Collagesity 2020 Middle 05


Tuscumbia

“So you have blue-green hair now, Wheeler. Blue… green.” She didn’t need to look. She’d seen it all before.

“Yeah. I changed it for Axis. And he changed it for me. He’s got blue-green energy lines all *over* his body now.”

“Axis, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s a ‘Tron’ thing for him now. ‘Lamb’.”

“Not Tropp? True Opp or whatever he went by?”

“The old boyfriend?” responded Wheeler Wilson/Venus, taking another sip and wiping her mouth again. So refreshing. Water. “Nah. He’s gone back to New Eden I suppose. I — I really don’t know what he’s doing,” she admitted to her old Collagesity friend. And still a friend. Mary’s just a good person like that. Shows up when needed.

“You should keep up with him,” Mary requested, knowing full well deep down that Axis and this Tropp were one and the same. Same body, same head. Same man.

“I suppose I should.” Another sip. Wheeler wonders why this is so delicious. She can’t get enough!


violet 04

“What am I doing here? In this sim, pheh.” She waves the bat in the air, contacting nothing.

—–

Downstairs in the Purple Marz house, somewhat human again Jack Snow answers the door. For no one.

“Rerro? (pause) Rerrooo?”

—–

How much for the lot of you?” Peter Osseo asks in a neighboring Southeast sim.

“50 lindens,” the talking battymobile responds for both.

“Sold!”

—-

Your job, er, Tom — just like before — is to guard it day and night. Just stay here. I’m going to find out what makes this baby tick!”

“It’s like a really — loud clock,” mafia dude Tom Blinks complains softly, then wonders the obvious.

Too late.

——

Peter Osseo wakes up with a start…

… then vows to get rid of that crazy bat wing vanity he bought yesterday on sale asap.

Too late.

—–

Peter Oesso wakes up.


batty

Peter/Tronaxis checked the next morning. The Esso poster downstairs *had* changed again, this time to Oesso (from Osseo). But the Tiger remains. Him, according to Wheeler. He was both embarrassed and pleased with the title. He still regrets being Dr. Young Kane over in the Weird-o Islands instead of Dr. Young Harris. Weir did he go wrong? What path could he have chosen differently? Venus knows, but she won’t tell him. She’s always shutting her mouth when it comes up with that zipper gesture she found online. So he remains Mars — Marz. Trapped here in essence, in this Purple Marz house located in a sim dominated or defined by that weird-o color (like surrealism). Maybe Blue Berry Girl would know, having successfully removed violet from her own wardrobe, this so called weighty Purple Sphere that poor little Katy Kidd/Kate McCoy always talks about releasing as well in a more mental capacity. A mentor to her this Blue Berry Girl is, despite the continued nudity. Popeye-like, she declares, “I am what I am.” Bulging eyed youths obviously foam at the mouth with the gunn sight. If only Bullfrog would have had the courage to shoot her with his own, different gun when he had the chance back in novel 14, he thinks, taking the mindset of the current doctor. “I better get over there,” he utters while checking his oh so loudly ticking wristful of watch, also with bat wings. He stops looking at it just in time to avoid another catastrophe. Too early in the morning for BOOM.

—–

“Your — sphere is back,” spoke Axis/Peter Oesso, stating the obvious.

“Shut up.”

Then the ghost of Dr. Baumbeer showed up and things got *really* interesting. He had a lot to say.

(to be continued?)


The Y’s

Straw Bear Y looks wistfully toward the northwest corner of Tyranea and Dr. Young Kane’s Mental Health Institute from her southeast position, wishing her husband Blue Bear Y would get well and be able to return home. But she knew it wouldn’t be anytime soon. They hadn’t kissed in ages!

Oh well, she has other options in the meantime. “Coming back to bed, honey pot?” Ralph the milkman queried from inside.

“Sure.”


more

“I *want* to get better,” bubbled a depressed Messed Up from a similarly colorful and confusing couch. “I — have a new love in my life. I’m motivated!”

“That’s great, Ms. Up,” responded Dr. Young Kane (played by Axis aka TronAxis). “I’m glad you have a reason to change. Makes my job easier.”

“You — may know him actually,” Messed Up sloshed haltingly again, knowing more than she let on.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” And then she spilled his name.

—–

“Young *Harris*,” spat out Dr. Young Kane later to his imaginary wife sitting below him, more cartoonish tonight than usual but still sporting the perfunctory blue-green hair.

“The reason you came *here*,” she returned. “Where are we going with this?”

“I — was going to ask you that.”

“I think — we should go to bed now. We can think better in the morning. With our coffee, eggs and tea.”

“*No*,” Axis said firmly. “We’re going to *figure* this out *tonight*.” His voice was pitched just below a yell now. “*Why* is she here?”

“New patient,” said Venus cooly from below. “You need the money.” She stared at The Sun between them, the rays. “It’s the Corona–”

“*Stop* saying that word. I’m sick to death of hearing it.”

“–V Drink,” she dared to finish. “The deal is almost done.”

—–

He finds himself in a different place, sporting the Esso t-shirt once more. Peter Oesso now, formerly Peter Osseo formerly Peter Esso. “Like an opossum,” he explained to Randolph the pirate beside Storybrook’s Gatcha Warehouse about the newest name. Fresh from another hand washing he is.

“Possum; opossum. I *think* I get it.” He turns toward the effigy of Mr. Fix It against the Black Elephant with the graffiti art. “So that’s It, huh? The man you killed to get that gas station.”

“I *didn’t* kill him. It was just a — convenience.”

“Convenience *store*.”

“In the future,” Peter Oesso admitted to the bastard buccaneer.

“So, are we on for 500 more cases of the often deadly brewskies? Or are you done with it now? The killing and all.”

“I — have a confession.” And it was here Peter Oesso told Randolph the Bastard Pirate about the conjoined trunks streams.


Peters’ town

When Oesso, Osseo, and Esso get all smushed together, this happens. I think it is a *sign* to probe further. Let’s move inside…


“welcoming” lozenge

—–

A church with double red doors. Sounds familiar.

—–

I believe that’s an elephant over there at that fork in the cement almost across the street. Sure of it, actually.

The red truck seen at the entrance sign has just managed to turn onto the main highway. Red is going away in both cases as the double red church doors become irresolute as well. Elephant is at its peak.

—–

In the next shot where the elephant also becomes less distinct, both reds are gone.

—–

There is a possibility for more here.


Peters’ town 02

Certain Death?

Baw Beese L., source of St. Joseph River Lake Michigan, helps change Osseo to safer Oesso. Think Possom to Opossum once more.


“Thanks!”

The “Endless Window” collage changes accordingly.


ants and uncles

“I *hate* Star. I will *never* go with the Star, pheh.”

—–

Marsha “Pink” Krakow was confused. She had come back home to Storybrook after being way up in the air over in Southeast (aerial), then landed here instead. Apparently a whole ‘nother town on top of her hometown (!), or at least the start of one. Was this the future of Storybrook, hidden in the sky only to descend when the right time comes? And — will the right time be at the end of the Corona-V Beer scare? Why did she think that at this moment?

She turns. Just like her uncle’s shop in NWES City. How? She hadn’t seen him in years. Axis or Ally or something. Yes, Axis, um… she can’t remember the last name. Her own uncle!

She looks across a side street…

… to see herself exiting a bar called The Trunk Ant. Herself! A different timeline, she realized. One where her Storybrook never existed.

She had found the beating heart of the Big Inside.


Black Elephant

—–

Complete loss of red. Black Elephant confronted full on.

—–

“I know what you are. I know why I’m here!”


NWES City

“Yes I remember now. It was called the Red Rose and I was Peter (Peet) at the time. Before the explosion that destroyed Club 88, you see, and accompanying Little Jimmy, the lesser boom. This would have been, oh, ’88 I think?”

“’98,” corrected Venus Flytrap, by his side all this time, an Ant to his Uncle. “But what about *my* place, the bar (across the street). Noodle?”

“It appears so,” Axis aka TronAxis replied. “And the battymobile was still intact,” he added, zooming into the garage of the building now. “Mr. Fix It was fixing it up.”

“Perfect,” responded Venus. “It all makes sense now. Red Rose; Marty; The Lamb/Ram fusion (Rupert). We must then inquire about Legos.”

“Later,” requested Axis. They had enough for the moment.


Marty and Harry’s son.


stamp it out

Trunk in the air, the bellowing elephant threatens to take over everything, including Jeogeot, including Nautilus — all the rest. Jett (Harry’s son) is here to stop all that, or help stop. NWES rises in importance again, a balance to Collagesity perched on a high ridge between Highways 13 and 14 over on Nautilus. The interaction between the 2 must continue. “This is not a time to move the behemoth that is Collagesity,” he speaks aloud, perhaps to himself but perhaps also to the camera he knows is upon him.

Yet the trunk is raised, the leg angled upwards, ready to squash the ideas, the dreams of the young professor. We know he lives, however. We’ve seen him — as Young Harris — in the Weird-o islands, purchasing the lot from Messed Up who’s also just reappeared in this here photo-novel (19, once m0re: the Corona-V photo-novel as it will be called).

It’s time to bring back the late great Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer of Braynard’s Place, his Central space ready for psychiatric investigation once again. “Pardon the mess,” he might say to willing patients around him. “It’ll be fixed up by next Wednesday’s Tuesday (or something).”

Jett doesn’t pretend to know all about the doctor’s mysterious therapies, most involving tv static and constantly sipping on milk or other liquids. But he’s willing to give it a try. For the future of NWES, of Collagesity.


“I *am* the static.”

But most important now: Osseo is Oesso now in the downstairs collage.

The Club 88 explosions hadn’t happened yet. We are frozen in a slither of time about the size of a small 50 x 15 foot opening in thickly shrubbed woods. A *window*, if you will, endless in the moment.

The engines across the street remain quiet.


change of heart

“F-ck it, SEAN. Let’s go to New York.”

“New *What*?”

—–

“Sure wish Marsha was here. To help me.”


Big Inside 01

“What’s so secret?” But the girls just tittered and waved her on.

She entered…

—–

“Pardon the mess, fellow patients,” spoke the revived Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, fairly fresh from a grave and sporting a protective bat covering now. He decides to explain his resurrection first. Good idea. Let’s listen in.

—–

“They had to go back to conception and take out half the rabbit and replace it with half bat, which removed the attached rat(s). My parents had to cooperate. They’re not dead because of it but let’s just say they’ll be incapacitated for a while. Resurrection takes energy! But here I am — *voila* (he indicates his renewed body here). Waiting to get your ideas about how to manifest true center again in NWES City.”

“Storybrook,” corrected Marsha “Pink” Krakow from the door, unseen until now.

“Oh.” He turns and peers at her intently. “So you’re on *that* timeline. WELL (he glances back)… you must think me a raving *lunatic* for talking to a bunch of empty chairs! Why don’t you join me. Marsha *Star* Krakow.”

“You know my name?”


Big Inside 02

Per the good doctor’s recommendation — no surprise here — she stared at the tv static for what seemed like ages, trying to make sense of the appearing and disappearing shapes. After a while, she heard what was suppose to be the observing doctor snoring behind her. He must have been out for a while, she deduced from the still undrunk milk. And here I am, trying to *remember* so hard.

She turned back to the static and cleared her throat *loudly*. Dr. Baumbeer sat up with a start, mumbling. “S-so, ahem, how’s, er, it going dear? Are — are you remembering anything? Anything at all?”

“No. Thanks. Not yet. I think we should end for the night. I need to get back home to my parents.”

“Oh that’s right. You probably think you’re — WELL, how old do you think you are, Marsha?”

Marsha knew she was a star now. She’d gotten that far. But the overlapping timelines still confused. “15?” she guessed.

“Well then you better run along! Dinner is probably getting cold at your house. I trust you know the way out.”

Marsha knew there was only one entrance to this second floor room. *Oh*, she needs to ask about her uncle, and why this building is the same as the one in NWES. She does.

“Your Uncle Ally or your Uncle Axis?” returned Dr. Baumbeer, attempting a weak joke. “They didn’t get along; that’s actually where the timelines split. For all of us.”

“Axis, I think. I don’t recall an Uncle Ally.”

“Yes, that would explain it,” and he sat back and folded his hands behind his head while gazing blankly upward with his still spectacled eyes. Soon he was snoring again. Marsha “*Pink*” Krakow left him alone now.

—-

“Oh just stop it.”


further

“I want to be a Bonham or a *Moon*, but not necessarily a *Star(r)*. What did Uncle Axis say, exactly?”

“You better ask your mother about all that. It was *her* brother.”

“Okay. I will.” Then she put down her fork only to pick it up again. “As soon as I finish eating this superbly delicious meal Ross C. prepared for us.”

“Thank you, child,” robot maid Ross C. cooed from just around the corner, humming with pleasure.

—–

“I’m *sure* SEAN “Green” Penn won’t mind me borrowing his row row row boat while he’s gone to New Orleans again. Maybe I should have gone with him. Gotten away from thinking about the Big Inside — too much time on my hands without him, etc.” She looks straight ahead and aims the boat accordingly. “Sure hope Mom and Charlie aren’t at it again, like the last time I dropped in. How embarrassing!”

—–

“Yes, that sounds like Uncle Axis,” responded Marsha “Pink” Krakow’s mother Parasol (Krakow?). “By the way, I forgive you for telling your father about us.” She looked back at Charlie Banana, eating yet another of his kind. “Sure, sure,” he mumbles with mouth full of yellow. “Tell your (swallow), dad, that its the best thing that happened to us. The sex is truly *amazing* now with all the guilt going on.” He stared at Parasol again. “Not that it wasn’t *amazing* before, um.”

Now white Parasol turns to her daughter again. “Just go back and tell your father that you’re okay, I’m okay, we’re all okay. The Big Inside is just a dream. You were dreaming, dear. Dr. Baumbeer has been dead in his grave oh, about, 5 months now. 1/2 bat (and here Parasol laughs) — I don’t *believe* in monsters, sea *or* sky.”

“I saw one,” spoke over Charlie Banana again while peeling one more. “I’ve lived on the water, this houseboat, all my adult life. “I’ve seen ’em.” *bite*

“Oh stop it.”

—–

And with this Marsha “Pink” Krakow returned to her “Good Side” of Storybrook mansion, convinced the session with the resurrected Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer was all in her head. Wrongly, of course.


Barry X. Vampire

I have a chance to return, finish my novel. “The Spinning Tire.” “The Revolving Wheel.” Still working on it. Still working on the text. I should talk to Buddy about it, the butler.

—–

“Wait, you’re Alberta.”

“Correct, sir. Did you enjoy the Great Belt?”

“Umm.”

“Did I tell you I am a butler and my original home was Butler? In Pennsylvania of the US of A.”

“Yes, I think you mentioned it. But what about *Urqhart*? We’re in Greater Urqhart, true. But if I choose to buy that land, or *retain* that land, we’ll be right in the heart of things. Green, Alberta. The land is so green. It feels like home to me. I’m not sure about Baker Bloch, though. I think he’d like to downsize and keep things in Fordham over on that arid Nautilus ridge. Obviously I’d like the opposite — seems like it. What — how do you weigh in, Alberta? You’re a trusted friend, and you know the area. What about that dried up body of water over there, Sox Pond and Indian Lake combined? Seems like that’s enough to keep me — us — in the area and away from Nautilus.”

“I think sir, considering all the possible pathways, that there is no true wrong decision at this point. And NWES —”

“Ah yes. NWES. Export of bits and pieces of Collagesity into that still growing, massive burg. Fast becoming the Tokyo of Mainland, Our Second Lyfe it is.”

“Marty is there,” suggested Alberta. “But also Marty is *here*.”

—–

You can start with the house; build out from that.”


elephants

“Well. That looks like it for Collagesity in Nautilus, Hucka Doobie. Can’t upgrade beyond a 8192 here any more. Only way to expand is to move to Urqhart.”

“Or thereabouts,” amended Hucka. “Not *quite* in Urqhart.”

“Close enough,” responds the male Baker, perhaps soon to be sole owner of this downsized Collagesity if things swing back the other way. Wheeler Wilson will be out on her high heels. I wonder what that would do to the somewhat diminished town moving forward? Will Carrcassonnee fully return? *Can* she? With perhaps help from relative newcomer and fellow one eyed monster Frank, for example? Trouble is, there might not be a Temple of TILE to house them, if so.

Bottom line: I have an 11924 in Urqhart or thereabouts to play around with or else sell again in the next several weeks, probably for at least the same amount I bought it. Only thing risked, really, is increase of tier for the month. But like the RL wife said, it’s all for art. Why not? Not much of a risk at all in the bigger picture.

But the sale could be the 8192 in Nautilus. Here.

In my estimation, Hucka Doobie is plotting to eradicate Wheeler from the picture: push the fusion of Collagesity and NWES City and the at least partial absorption of the former into the latter, kind of like what was planned for Collagesity and VHC City several years back in the story of photo-novel 4. We’ll see if Baker Bloch/Barry X. Vampire listens close enough.

“The story of Mainland remains downsizing,” she continues in her urgings. “NWES City is an anomaly in that way. We *must* latch onto that energy. The signs are there.”

“Oesso signs,” replies Baker Bloch, also thinking of the newest collage set in NWES City and its perpetual window. To what, though?


Star?

I think it might be swinging.


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