M is for Myg

“Dough? Car?” I thought to myself as Allotta’s drunken whispers rattled in my ear. What the hell was this guy off about?

Just then a man and a woman walked into the bar. The man sat at a little table and started to play Rock Paper Scissors with himself. The woman sat on the bar stool next to Allotta. He loosened his grip on my midsection, so I hopped behind the bar and started to polish bottles, thinking I’d stall for time and try to find a convenient exit point. “What are we drinking, folks?”

The gal started jibbering in Korean to Allotta, who started jabbering back. They knew each other–he’d called for back up! My gut told me they had it in for me. But why?

I poured some booze into a glass and handed it to her with a wry, wan little smile. She returned the favor with an icy look and kept yammering on in whatever hieroglyphic symbols I couldn’t understand. While Allotta was distracted by her prattle I poured another and handed it to him, dumping it in his lap at the last second. As he started cursing me in 7 different languages, and she started to unpack what looked like a nice little handgun, I hurled the espresso machine across the bar between the two of them and ran for the exit.

Once outside I ducked into a public toilet and frantically scanned my inventory and friends list. Wiped clean again! My memory still fuzzy, I opened the search window and tried to think of the name of my home…topgas…torvgol…toglepac…then a snippet came to mind. Wawa. I searched Wawa and hit the button.

Schhhhhhhhhht0ink!

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“Myg, we’re really worried about you.” Romana insisted.

I didn’t want to listen, but she was so damned earnest that it was pretty hard to blow her off.

I’d only been back from Paris 1900 (SLURL) a couple of days when they started in on me: “We had no idea where you were for days, you didn’t answer any IMs, you could have died, what’s with that whole sock monkey dancing dream, etc., etc., etc.” Same old, same old. But they had a reason to be worried. Read more

All hail to Wrath Paine! He gave us such an incredibly sweet compliment over at his blog - Wrath Paine vs. Second Life (one ‘o my favorite blog titles of the SL blogoverse yet, too).

What? You can’t read that? Well, of course you can’t - you have to go there and read the blog! That’s what it’s all about people–sharing the love.

You know, I love when men blog…*gives Alex a long look that seems to say, “type, you man, you!”* and Wrath has verbiage enough to make up for the absolute dirth of male textophiles. He seems to keep up with Vint Falken and pays respects to our pals the Mean Girls in his summary there, so the man obviously has excellent taste!

So, what are you still doing over here folks? Come on, feel the Wrath!

Do you remember that unbelievably original looking razor necklace Sable made for me for my birthday? NO?! Well, here’s a picture of it again:

Well, ha, it’s your damned lucky day because Sable is now selling this hot item, along with a bunch of other kick ass jewelry at her new store in Little Philly, called Blood Orchid (SLURL). I’ve got more to show you from there, so keep going. Read more

It started out as an ordinary Little Philly evening. The foliage glinted copper light under the dimming sun. Somewhere down the block you could hear the telltale sounds of a skinless noob with his genitals out looking for hookers. Romana, Alex and I gathered around Sable as she told us all about Hair Fair.

How was it? “Laggy,” she said. We spend a lot of East Philly nights in banter such as this. But this was no ordinary East Philly night. Not by a long shot. Read more

Have you met Aria Abbatoir?

I honestly don’t know if its the gargantuan boots, her self-made cement colored skin and signature eyes, or the fact that she is really really tall, but as far as a put together look goes, I’ve seen few do hipster goth this well.

I’ve met Aria a few times and wanted to weave her into a post for awhile but haven’t quite been able to do it yet. She is a friend of Alex’s from Midian City.

But anyway, here she is, in all of her goth hipster glory, looking swank and cool while Romana and I gleefully hop up and down on cows in the background.

Cheers!

Hey, Alex and I finally got to meet the mighty Vint Falken last night!

She popped into Little Philly for awhile, where Torvalpac (now aka Furry something or other) gave her ample opportunity to play with her gun. She’s quite a shot, I will say. In fact, she exhibited the most effective bubble-cage I’ve just about ever seen. Bounced around inside that thing like bits of plastic inside a snow globe, he did. Try as he might, Torvalpac had quite a bit of trouble sitting his way out of that one.

He did finally get out, but Alex had to orbit him after he went wild with the hands off device on her.

Heh, welcome to Little Philly, Vint!

Late last night the heat was bearing down on Section 8.

I shuddered, remembering the bad times in the Baji police station the other day. Burned black 16 hour old coffee, vending machines without Tastykakes and a fat slob of a cop named Louie all came to mind as I scampered for a place to hide out. What had I done this time that they had to send black ops? My mind was racing with all the possibilities. Read more