Hey to both of my readers!
You recall that time what I interviewed people and they steered me directly inter the dragons as a way to locate Madame B. I has a piece of paper what says dragons dragons dragons so a’courst I’m onter something fer sure.
Dragon places … feels spots on. And that Miss Aura, she says she would send a note to Miss Mari with some dragon places idea’rs, basically all I have ter do is wait, I’m mostly supposin’.
So’s I wait outside o’ Miss Mari’s entrance with a basket o’ my best eatin’ spongiforms what I collect outa my backyard, cuz it’s mostly underwater bein’ a swamp and all. There’s some nice bits, over ta ther schoolhouse and what have ya. Good spongiforagin’ iffn you want tho.
Miss Mari rezzes inter Mudflats and I jump up and brush spongiform bits outa my beard and greets her proper, like. You don’ wanna be standin’ in front o the grid owner lookin’ fer the favors when you got beetles nabbin’ bits o’ spongiform and draggin’ ‘em deeper inter yer beard, sorta thing.
“Hiyas, Miss Mari,” I sez, stickin’ out my hand respectful-like, “did Miss Aura send a list of dragons places ter yer attention?”
Miss Mari smiled and slipped past my hand ter give me a wee hug. “Hi Trey. I have not seen Miss Aura’s note yet. How is the security business going?”
“Well Miss Mari, I been securitizin’ the rezz outa the place!” I knowed she’d be wantin’ to know I been diligentinin all over, though basically I walk around lookin’ fer the food for the tomorrow. And I scritched at my head and figured on that note-part of ther response fer a bit, while ‘preciatinin’ the hug.
“So’s no note yet? Does yer expect one sooner or later?”
Miss Mari smiled again, “Why yes, I do. Would it be okay if I sent a note to her as a reminder?”
She had me there, tryin’ ter figure iffn Miss Aura would react the good way or t’other way what nice society types react. But Miss Mari suggested it so’s I figured she wasn’t pushin me under the yak, sort o’ thing, so’s I agreed.
“I’ll do just that and let you know when I have a reply,” Miss Mari says, “and I suggest you ask Reyn about places where dragons abide. He’s always on the lookout for rock structures and should have bumped into dragons every now and then in opensim.”
I nibbled at a stretchy, orange strip of salty spongiform, thinkin’ that I don’t mostly see the Landlord ‘ceptin when I blows up a thing or two. Usually he’s pointin’ out itsa “material piece of the landscape” and sorta sighs. Seems to suck the sense o’ humor right out of him cuz he just looked at me when I said blackened mountain ranges is slimmin’.
“Thank ya kindly, Miss Mari. I ‘preciate yer advice. Just what I needed.” And some willow roots to take the sting outa the orange stuff, I decided. So tha’s what I went and did.
That’s what I was doin’ when the Landlord found me. He told me Miss Mari had told ‘im I wuz lookin’ fer him.
Reyn and I were under the 17-prim table holdin’ our breath real quiet like, when Da’s Da rumbled “Prims don’t grow on trees ya know …” and I slapped my hand over my mouth to stop from followin’ with “they just look like they do.” It’s the family motto, sorta. Reyn almost slapped his hand over mine.
Da didn’t look, he pointed ter the door and quietly said “Out.” We scrambled over each other, Reyn and I, cuz it were pretty quiet, that “out.”
Before the door auto-closed behind us, I could here Da sayin’. “The land impact of our bedroom is none of your business, and we aren’t even using 30% of our prim allowance. We’re fine, Drift.”
Da’s Da said somethin’ but by then we were too far away ter hear anythin’. Reyn said we should go rez lizards in the market bread cart, and that sounded like a good afternoon, and we raced over ter the market.
And after that memory moment, I didn’t figure him as the Landlord, but as Reyn, and I been his alt since forever when we grew up in the opensim. And I ‘membered he an’ Skye always looked after me, and wore a lot o’ mud with me, and Reyn even showed me how ter apply transparent textures on roads fer the joke, with me, since forever.
So I asked him ‘bout the dragon places and he said let’s sit in the shade. And it wuz another good afternoon.
Hey to both of my readers!
My Landlord fella introduced me to this fella, seemed like a nice fella and all, not the Landlord, I mean, and the fella said he knows something I should be knowing about the whereabouts of Madame B and where she might be, umm, abouts.
This fella, Patch, sez that Madame B. had him as a student every time.
Every time, what? I asked him.
“Call me Patch”, he sez. “Let me tell you about Madame B., she told me, every time, that she could teach me some useful aspects about magic. Why did you go to Madame B.? Anyways, you writing this down? Patch, P A T C H. I’m a pyrodiverseamancer. I can make flame in balls, spears, or sheets. And I can hold it in my hand.”
I watched RL careful and when he took a breath I jumped in with the question, “Does yer know where Madame B. is nowadays?”
“Nope. If I knew where she was I would have told that Landlord guy. What’s up with him anyway?” He looked thoughtfullishly up at the butterfly wings on my travelin’ caravan interviewin’ place, ”All I can really tell you is that every time I went to Madame B.’s school, she greeted me with "Ful, los hi dovahkiin?" asking if I am dragon-born, and with a twinkle in her eye that looked like bits of flame she would smile and I could smell burnt stone. So, dragons, I know she felt herself drawn to dragons.”
I wrote “dragons” on my scrap o’ paper. And iffn I accidental-like blows up a mountain range again, I’m plannin’ to tell the Landlord I’m pyrodiversified, which sounded like a talent, iffn you ask me.
I kinda felt Patch was onter a solid ground, definite maybe fer sure. So I thanked him with a free cube prim, looks like it is made outa the wood, but it’s not. One thing our family allays said was “Prims don’t grow on trees, they just look like they do.” Tryin’ ter get a prim ‘llowance outa my Gramps was like prying a Yak Tick outa a stampedin’ yak, left you trampled like.
“I’ll see you agin, I hope”, I fared him well, sumthin you say, y’know.
“Every time, Man, every time.” And he blinked out.
The grid owner, Miss Mari, she had interviewin’ees fer me too. One of them Miss Mari said, was an attendant in a magikal store, the one where I couldn’t find it ‘cause it weren’t there. Anymore, sort of thing. The ‘nother one, she worked in the magik as a designer. Not quite sure what that looks like as a job. Mayhaps makin’ the spells match the wand or sumthin’.
Next: “Hey Miss Bollister, Miss Mari tells me you attended a store of the magik?
“Yes. How may I help you?”
I showed her the picture of Madame B. and asked if she had seen her?
“Yes. How may I help you?”
“I guess I’za hopin’ you had some knowin’ of where Madame B. was livin’ or teachin’ or hanging out, sort of thing, like where I might find her. Be a real timesavin’ iffn you did.”
“I certainly did not pry into people’s lives when they visited the Magical Emporium. I feel the faux intimacy implied by asking questions about which I haven’t the faintest interest is a waste of everyone’s time.”
“About Madame B., then, yer didn’ ask about where she gets her ‘nother magikal items, meybe?”
“No, it wouldn’t do. Your Madame B. spent an inordinate amount of time perusing over Dragon Artifacts in the showcases, plus she went cover to cover through all of our Dragon Editions of the Emporium’s catalogue. I do suggest she has a keen interest in the beasts.”
I carefully wrote “dragon” on my scrap o’ paper just under the ‘nother “dragon”. I felt one o’ them inner smiles makin’ my face want to smile out there too. “Miss Bollister, may I offer you a Cube Prim what looks like wood ter thank yers fer yers time?”
“Tell Miss Mari I am pleased to help her, every time.” And she was gone.
More next: “Miss Aura, Miss Mari tells me you design magic.” And I waz tryin’ to brush some crumbs from my beard and act all
cognoscenty and such while I thought hard ‘bout some example what would be interesting’, ‘n all.
“I would like to think I had the skills to design magic. I imagine Mari referred to me as a magical designer; I design magical worlds for Opensim. It’s mostly a blend of archaic and obscure environments, symbols, eerie settings.”
“Does yer design with dragons?” I asked, afore holding my breath.
“I certainly do. Dragons are de rigueur.”
And she speaks French too, I thought. “Does yer know Madame B.? She loves the dragons too, maybe as de riguerously as you.”
Aura smiled, “I’m afraid I do not know her. However, I can suggest a few places she might go to study unusual dragons. Is that advice of interest?”
Well, gosh, YES! I inner-voiced. I carefully wrote down “dragon places” under “dragon” under “dragon” on my scrap o’ paper.
“I would be pleased as sunshine onna cat iffn you could help me out.” And I offered her TWO free cube prims what looks like wood fer her next project. She accepted them with a tilt of her head.
“I will send a note to Miss Mari with some ideas for you. Lovely to meet you; I must away,” Miss Aura smiled goodbye.
“Well, iffn you need more free cu…” And she was gone too.
Dragon … Dragon … Dragon places … I’m inter somethin’ Madame B. Feels right.
Hey to both of my readers and that other feller wit’ the nice smile,
As you know, interviewin’. Miss Mari put The Question to me: Who? An’ that’s when I had ter wish I had a thinkin’ cap ‘cept there happens to be a type of beetles livin’ in my hair what likes the sunshine, so I have ter do it the ‘nother way.
As it happens, I wuz standin’ in the swamp pullin’ out last year’s unused crop of good eatin’ weeds, an the Landlord walked by and inquired inter my health.
“I see you standing neck deep in the swamp, and nothing is on fire. Is it laundry day? Are you using the Deep Mud as medicine again? You okay?”
Well one, beetles, can’t go deeper than neck deep, and next, I told him I was a bit stuck on the Who question, about the interviewin’, and thanks for the interview place.
He says I’m welcome for the interviewin’ place, cuz it felt like a grid-wide need anyways glad to help. And he had sum ideas on one person to be interviewin’, a fella he knew. And he would place inquiries (quotin’ straight up I tell ya”) with Mari (Tha’s Miss Mari,
the Grid Owner. The Landlord strikes me as a bit too casual throwin’ out the big names like he’s someone or sumthin’) about a connection she may have.
So’s the Landlord wus thinkin’ maybe we should be mocking these interviews, to get ‘em real good afore Miss Mari asked people to show up, sort of thing.
I made a list o’ questionin’ and we mocked it out.
It were kind of like a starin’ contest, really, I would ask my questions and they would stare at me. The Landlord, when he ain’t whining he’s pretty quiet and good at staring, I’ll tell you what, he should try the Security jobs I had. Good starin’ is a metric key, or somethin’, like a total baseline necessities.
Pardon my tangenshial surge, I wuz missin’ the steady work, me and my best friend staring at people. But there was more than that, can’t recall xactly the other thing.
Fixin’ the interviewin’ questions is my short-term goal, one of them mentioned. Prolly that Landlord, wasn’t the whining tone he normal adopts, but sorta. Good idea though.
Madame B.: Where are ya? Tha’s the one I want The Answer.
Hey to both of my readers,
As you know, I had the Sea Monkey accident, so’s the preparing of the interview place I had in mind got pushed to one side of my mind what wuzn’t doin’ the buildin’.
The point of the interviewing place was to go through an exhausting list o’ questions to help me pin down Madame B.’s direction and activities, sort of thing. Then I could get myself inter the same trail and not be peering about dither and non.
The Landlord built the Interviewing Place (I wuz gonna call it) but I let him run with his ideas, a’course he’s got too many iffn you ask some people. He pulled out one of his fancy French titles, la studio magnifique. My translatin’s not the best, pretty sure it means THE studio magnifique. However, he sez it has the correct amblience fer the intimidate setting of thoughtful questioning.
He doesn’t speak in The French, but I wuz playin’ wit’ the studio lights and didn’t quite capture his wordin’. Then I did, when he offered to mock interview with me.
I thought that prolly I got to make fun of him, but he sort of disabused me of that thinkin’ after we got the interview started and he asked Miss Mari, the Grid Owner, ter join us. And they’s married, y’know, so no funnin’, fer sure.
“We’re just practicizing here?” I started off.
“Indeed” sez the Landlord. (Who sez ‘indeed’ anyway?) “Explain your quest with some useful context, then ask a series of questions designed to tease out details that lead to the discovery of Madame B.’s more recent locations or activity.”
I set him straight with “I’ll be asking the questioning.”
“The thing of it is,” I began, “Madame B. or Madame Burrury started a school called Madame Burrury’s Finest School For Wizzards and Magikal Creatures School of Magik. And it was doin’ a pretty good job o’ educatin’ the young creatures and the people like me what needed to know how ter magic ‘just so’ ter turn lead into graphite. But it was located on a Opensim grid what took the sad circumstantials and went, ummm, away.”
Miss Mari smiled at me and asked what it is I am trying to do?
“Well, Miss Mari, iffn I could, I’d bring Madame B. back here ter your nice grid and get her school goin’ again so’s the multiverse would be a better place.”
“And a’course I want to make pencils fer the Children to Educate them to make the multiverse a better place, so’s it’sa better-better fer the … fer the everyone!”
“I need Madame B. and I need to find her.”
Miss Mari suggested, “Then you simply must ask people who have seen her iffn [with a smile] they know where she went and what she was discussing. Don’t you agree, Reyn?”
“Who do you plan to interview, Trey?” asked Miss Mari.
I sat up in my lawn chair and tried to look thoughtful, but the only thoughtin’ was, “Jeez, good one, Miss Mari.”
Madame B. iffn you are reading this journey, call me, or know I am finding you soon as the possible.
Hey to both of my readers,
I accidentally spilled a few tons of Sea Monkey Eggs inter the ocean cove place behind my cave. It wuz one of Them Accidents what you never seen coming, iffn you know what I mean.
You guessed it. The Landlord had ter brace hisself on a tree to whine that hard about his lovely ocean and what he precepted to be The Disaster Of A Lifeline. Sumthin’ like that. I was watching billions of them Sea Monkeys billowing up onta the beach. Good, stiff onshore wind back there, normally seems nice.
Point is, no searching fer the Madame B. until the sand sparkles like new or sumthin’. So’s I’s only been pickin’ away at that Interview Place I mentioned previous-like.
I started by pickin’ out a sweet spot, good view of the local cranes huntin’ fer their food, I ‘spect. And then I added a trailer, a constructive trailer, a’ course.
Then I added some workin’ people, make the place respectable.
Then I added a lawn chair, fer the supervizin’ I was born to, iffn I’m not bein’ too subtle.
And some constructive signs. Safety and stuff.
And that’s when I figured it:
Get the Landlord ter do it. I am a Sea Monkey Wrangler (supervizin’ type).
On my way, Madame B., maybe not one of the straight lines sorta thing.
Hey to both of my readers,
I don’ get many complementaries from the Landlord, he’s a hard man some would say, not me, o’ course, but he came up to me one day moaning about me destroyin’ his new mountain range with a wee bit of an explosion of sorts. It was not the moment to ‘splain it was one of the INplosions, not BOOM, but sorta MOOB, y’know. Anyway after his pointin’ at that empty, sorta burnt, I’ll give him that, kinda charred, really, space, he looks me inna eye and says “I read your last Journey of Tiers installment.”
“Do continue.” I sez, hopin’ installment payments wasn’t next.
“It was astoundingly bombastic. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Well I sure as shadows inna cave have no idea what bombastication is, but I have it. I may have “astoundingly bombastic” stitched onna pillow, iff’n I hadn’a imploded my naugerhyde recliner along with the landscape, nowheres fer the pillow, y’see? Well, don’ need no swollen head.
Last time I mentioned it, I went to a magik place, Ilha Magica (on The Kitely), which is a place named in another language, but essentially means Ilha of magik, pretty sure. And then I ran around to spots with shiny lights expectin’ to find Madame B. hangin’ out learnin’ the magik. All the learnin’ was the lesson of “ain’t never gonna find her thisaway.”
I studied up on detectin’, mostly watchin’ a cat pick through some shrubs out by the cow barn on a place called Abandoned. And the cat kept smellin’ things. So I figured the Trey answer to smellin’ around magik spots, cuz I have no idear what Madame B. smells like, pretty good, I imagine, but ‘stead I decided to do some quizzin’.
So I had an artist rememberin’ picture of Madame B. prepped by Miss Mari, the Landlord’s wife, only reason I don’ make faces at the Landlord as he moans away into the sunset, she likes him okay, so’s he’s got a good side, meybe. And then I was goin’ ter a magik shop, prolly called shoppe, to ask if Madame B. had been seen and just when was that? And in what direction did she leave? Does yer recall what she smelled like? Did she happen to mention any hotel names or worlds what seems likely as “next”?
I fire up my old trustworthy hauler-trailer designed for interworld travel and went to the place where the shoppe was listed. Yet it wasn’t actually there, had a quiknap onna bus which seemed to go well, the Driver was real polite. I showed him the picture of Madame B. “Has yer seen her recently?” No? “Has yer seen her ever?” No.
Kinda odd fer a place with a magik shoppe, not havin’ one, yet I stopped a few more people I could find around. Then t’acourse my mind goes awanderin’ back to the shoppe. Maybe that shoppe is gone, but someone worked there, and that someone might be found for the Interview!
Naturally, I built an interview place and started huntin’ fer the Shoppe Assistance Person. I’ll find you, Madame B.
Hey to both of my readers,
As you know, I been lookin’ for Madame B. in my own way - about to step offworld in my Mobile Transit Housing Searchin’ System and search about the multiverse, and I know just where to look, it’s all pretty simple when you do some figurin’. And I been figurin’ hard, like the time that person at my door said meybe I didn’t ask to get my ducks cleaned, but they had a feelin’ maybe it was about time.
Well, it was a pretty dank cave so’s I had it just so, and after we had some lunch and a beer I sent them duck cleaners on their way. Ducks seemed to take some joy from that escape from the washin’. It was like that but different in the sense that, well, s’all different, really. Coulda used some yak cleaning, a’corse, but they kep’ on sayin’ nope sirree.
Madame B. was sorta shoved out into the multiverse and she decided to go learn up on magik, so I figured she’s pretty smart ‘bout that magic, so’s she would naturally head to a place what has lots of the magik what might seem hard. A’corse I been learnin’ the magic fer less time than most, I suppose, so all the magik seems pretty hard to me. Iffn I had written down my breakthrough thinkerin’ I’da been marking’ it down here again. But it was about languages of vast complexity, and I giggled, thinkin’ “English, a’corse” but it weren’t that at all, not really. So’s I went to the non-English places, pretty simple really.
Dragons; dragons is powerful magik with the wings and dangerous-like, from the fact that they like to eat things and sometimes you are just a thing, iffn I’m not being too subtle. So’s I went to this world with dragon. Maybe dragons, s’not like I look fer ‘em. Madame B. likes the dragons, and steps lively ‘round ‘em, I’m expectin’, but she’s possibly fer sure on this world. And you know her, the difficulter the magik, the … the something … ta-dah.
The best secret caves is behind waterfalls. And the toughest magik is likely stored in secret caves, pretty simple, it’s them core-elations, right? I found the best waterfall on the world and walked right into it. Wish I had a slightly different ending to my Moment of Deep Insight, but no. Mostly I feel cleaner and have eliminated one waterfall from a plentitube of choices. However this place is loaded with magik, I must be closing in on Madame B. :)
I am carefully studying this clearly magical contraptionation, sparkly, whirly lights, arcade shapes, and otherwise just ‘ttractive decoratin’. Iffn a small cafe was nestled nearby, I’m supposin’ she might hang about. I carefully check for bootprints in the dirt. I add a bit of water hopin’ fer the native mud, which is everybody’s friend. Nuthin’ :| it’s not unlike washin’ a yak. Pointless and, well it ain’t smelly, so there’s that.
I did the figurin’, and Madame B. has a few more choices here fer the difficult magik. I don’ get most of it, but I do get that when I do magik, there’s lots of light and noise, but the light tends to be monchromatastically explosive-ish. So’s the colorful, quiet light must be the difficult stuff, magically-speakin’.
I stared at this until that glass of ice tea I found in the palace made me wish I hadn’t gulped it down after all, like the sign said, “Don’t Drink Me.” Iffn I had a 20% of a monetary unit every time I was told that, I’d have LOTS of partial monetary units, pretty sure, really. Faded my pants a bit, too. Mind you, this place had a Clothing Optional tag in the land description thingy, and that how I dress, not really clothing.
But it’s about Madame B., and her really well done magic journey. She has found some tough magic, fer sure, and it may not be here, magical as it is. So I have narrowed the plentitube in a ‘nother way.
Not here … wisht it were so
Not a person imitating an elephant after all. Gotta get close to figure it … pretty nice up close … my bum was never that hard, mind you.
Magic is so bright gotta wear shades, but no Madame B.
Other worlds, ‘nother find the vehicle system, coax the vehicle to start, hope the fridge ain’t on the blinker circuit sort of thingy.
I will find you, Madame B. I’m feelin’ pretty simple already.
(Artist’s conceptualization of Trey huntin’ Madame B. Maybe he needs a cape and a flashlight. Trey - stop editing our image titles. And a friend, like an otter, and angry otter with sumthin’ to prove!)
Hey to both of my readers,
I did some ‘splorin’ inside the schoolhouse what the Landlord replaced on Mudflats. An’ as you know, I been lookin’ for Madame B. in my own way - about to step offworld in my Mobile Transit Housing Searchin’ System and search about the multiverse, she’s somewhere, and the school just in’nt no school without Madame B.
I found a Clue, pretty excitin’. Tucked under a bench in the school I found a note, what’s been transcribed to the here and now:
I am Madame Burrury, the Founder and Proprietor of Madame Burrury’s Finest School For Wizzards and Magikal Creatures School of Magik. And I simply must insist, my darlings, that you call me Madame B. or Ms. B.
The school was founded on a grid which closed and everyone lost everything. At my age, not to be coy, but people tell me I don’t look a day over 800 years, and I am grateful for that, and of course, I use a magical creme that seems to scrape off the decades, and at my age, losing everything is a bit of a stumbling block to one plans. So I needed to rethink my plans.
My plan pre-loss-of-everything was to keep teaching at the school, transitioning minds from the seemingly magical worlds of Opensim to include the magic within the magical-seeming worlds of Opensim. For example, Trey tried to convert gold into lead for pencils using Alchemy. But of course that is simple, and after hundreds or thousands of missteps and wee explosions melting a bit of the world he got it! Indeed, I am so proud of him.
Then Trey discovered by reading that pencil leads are actually graphite, and after a few years it became obvious to him that Alchemy does not provide a pathway to convert lead into graphite. He needed magic - and he joined the school.
The lost school is sad, but not as sad as sitting about drinking tea and feeling sad. I set my mind to developing a deeper understanding of some magics with which I am less familiar. It’s a BIG Opensim, and there are lots of magikal beings, creatures, and minds from which to learn.
So I, Madame Burrury, am switching places and am off to learn magik. Be good my darlings, always remember: You matter.
I’ll come find ya’ Madame B., we need the magikal school doin’ the teachin’ ‘n all. First, I gotta find my keys.
As both of you readers know, I has to leave Mudflats to go find Madame Burrury so’s Madame Burruy’s Finest School For Wizzards and Magikal Creatures School of Magik gets re-schooled-up, so’s I could learn how to do the magicking of lead into graphite; for the children and equality.
Well Madame B got lef’ behind when some big grid closed up and she went somewhere’s else. But somewhere’s else is kinda the thing, we got ourselves a multiverse. Tha’s like a universe but with more parts, layers, worlds, and permissions, sort of thing. And a’ COURSE I tried her email first thing after her school was built in Mudflats, but the interweeby thingy says it ain’t no good:
I checked the spellin’ a few times.
So’s now it’s the journeying, and Miss Mari suggested an itinerant or sumthin’, which I figure is plannin’ the journeying such that you have places to figure out if Madame B. is there and going past the luck. Cuz you gotta go there in the multiverse to look up iffn a person is there, sort of thing. I’m thinkin’ there’s a world called Aardvark and get goin’! But Miss Mari says to plan next steps.
Well, she’s the grid owner and I don’t want her thinkin’ I’m some sort of looney, but the Landlord already thinks that, so’s I ask him fer his thoughts on plannin’ an itinerant. He starts his yakkin’ ‘bout probabilities and social pressurin’s and preferencin’, when what he wants to know is what do I know about Madame B., her life outside ‘a school, and maybe hobbies and friends.
Coulda saved a lot of time iffn he just asked me that. He filled a blackboard with staticlistical formulatins just to ask iffn I know her hobby? Well, she studied the stars, sez they tell you pictures of happenin’s tomorrow. And she studied up on lotsa magic types, sez they’s all sorts: vampires, unicorns, banshees, zombies, chimeras, demons, dragons, wizards (of course), witches, genies, phoenixes, griffins, revenuers, werewolves, centaurs, fairies, imps, dwarves, elves, mermaids, ogres, leprechauns come to mind. And she had a ‘maculate garden. S’how you could tell her place, all kinda nice all the time. And only one on the sky platform, where she invited students to BBQs at the end of the semesterin’. Tha’s a good bit o’ information, she liked her students.
Then the Landlord starts his talkin’ ‘bout keywords and longtail keywords? And then matching the worlds and mappin’ the matchin’s. I’m searchin’ on aardvark and about to hit the gas to get journeyin’, when he said somethin’ useful. She’ll be wantin’ access to magic, so that’s a gotta have it thing. I don’t remember aardvarks bein’ magic, so’s maybe I was rushin’ a bit.
Then the Landlord hands me a list of worlds. Easy, he sez. Well tha’s a relief, the easy part is finally done.
Madame B, here’s I’ma comin’ fer you.
To be continued...
As both of you readers know, I has to leave Mudflats to go find Madame Burrury so’s Madame Burrury’s Finest School For Wizzards and Magikal Creatures School of Magik gets re-schooled-up, so’s I could learn how to do the magicking of lead into graphite; for the children and equality.
Miss Mari, she’s the grid owner, she suggested I speak ter the Landlord ‘bout getting trailer’in off to the other bits o’ the multiverse, ‘cuz Madame Burrury ain’t here on this world. So’s I sez, sure, and meetin’ w’ the Landlord was next on my list (while secretly vowin’ to make a list).
The Landlord and I get on like a house on fire. S’posed to mean fast, but fer us it’s the lots of runnin’ around and gettin’ wet part. He found me out in the swamp at dawn, harvestin’ some good eatin’ weeds to go with the Fromage d’ Yak, a wee sumthin’ to kickstart yer day. I sought his advice.
“Your trailer is somehow in a tree. You inadvertently parked the truck deep in the Narrows one night after you arrived home from scouting out pubs and grub. I recommend that you find a way to carefully move both objects to common ground, and then you can assemble your trailer and pack for your journey. I would try to Take the items then place them in a more convenient place for assembly. My wife, Mari will know a good spot, please ask her where you can work on your mobile home system.”
(That’s how he talks, yer know? All sentencey and grammar, like.)
‘K I’m thinkin’ then, I’m gonna need a big, whopping balloon to get the truck and trailer from the storage spots I selected advertantly, nothin’ inadvertant ‘bout ‘em, and get them to the’r flat ground, like, and pack them w’ sumthin’. Not sure what, tha’s fer later. Prolly Miss Mari knows anyhows, or is that anyways?
She has the perfect spot, does Miss Mari, so’s I rented me the biggest balloon-set around, hitched up the truck and rode it back fer two days ter this garage place what even has the tools.
Then I ballooned back and got the trailer. I sure liked the pace. :) Lots of time to just chew on the weeds and spit out that chewy bit and watch it drift down ter an ocean, like.
Then I did the ‘sembly bit, it’s technical, can’t explain it more’n lined ‘em up and shoved ‘em together till they clicked. Prolly one of them engineerin’ people looked at it a while back.
Miss Mari sez to get some grub to take along, won’t have no good eatin’ weeds everywhere, y’know. So’s tha’s the packin’ part. Had that figured out and I took a deep breath, and then she asks about my itinerary.
((O.O)) gotta go look me up a word. I’m hopin’ it means the extra beer n grub sort of thing.
Madame B, here’s I’ma comin’ fer you.
Just the right amount of the hot air and heliumation.
Chewin’ on the weeds and enjoying the warm air.
Fixing ‘em by jammin’ ‘em together. S’technical, I wouldn’t understand.
I’ma thinkin’ I’ma done.
But now there’s the itinerant thingy.
To be continued...