Squattin’ Life: Part 3 – When You Got Trouble in Mind
by Alphaville Herald on 28/04/10 at 12:14 pm
by Jezz Enoch, Hillbilly Hellion
Now you listen up good, cause I ain’t sayin’ nuffin’ two times. I gots better stuff to do, like shootin’ folks who bothers me.
But since Pix done said she aims to pay me to write this-here thing up for y’all. My damn dumb brother, Pappy, who usually wastes your time, are busy settin’ up his latest squat. He got throwed out of Squat 1.0 when the neighbors quit their fake land (proberly because o’ Pappy) and them Linden Flyin’ Monkeys swooped in and cleaned out both plots.
Pappy ain’t one to court no dangers. Hell, he only wants to court pretty gals. I are the Enoch famberly member who deals in trouble. So if’n you folks am on the lam, livin’ in some Gawdforsaken wasteland for free, instead o’ payin’ a passel of them Linden Monkeys for your land, you cain’t do no better than Jezz’s Rules:
Rule 1: Git a parcel that gots scripts turned on. Pappy am such a sissy that he went and got one without that, and what kind of fun am that? You cain’t get knotty and nekkid, cause the damn sex-doodads won’t work rite. They ain’t no fappin’ in that kind o’ place.
Rule 2: If’n you cain’t find scripted land, git some next to a good spot. Pappy did one thing good–probly by accident–he found land that am next to for-sale land that DO got scripts turned on. So I reckon I could shoot or cut up or burn stuff to a crisp over there, or ride me a cowboy once I does some drinkin an’ gits me a wild hair stuck up my bizness end.
Rule 3: Pushing folks around am FUN. Check that "about land" tab thing and be sure the deadbeat who up and left the land have got it runnin’ so you can commence to aim and fire at anybody who comes along, or run ‘em down with your fake car, then shoot ‘em dead.
Rule 4: For-sale land am great. I tells you what–them owners don’t come round too often, and them Lindens, if’n they checks, won’t know that you ain’t some friend o’ the seller who am "keepin’ up the place" until it sells…which ain’t often on the Mainland these days. They am fake land goin’ empty in Zindra, too…hoo whee Katie bar the door! XXX Squats!
Rule 5: Git it in your head that no matter what you does, some gawd-damn goodie two-shoes will catch you. Suppose it are a reg’lar person: use Rules 1 & 3 for some laffs before you gits ARed. I recommends gasoline and fire, cause the fun lasts longer than shootin’ them dead rite away. Chain saws does good close work, too, but you am gonna need you A) one of them latex pervert suits you kin hose down later or B) some blood-free, non-pervert clothes when you am done with the cuttin’ up.
And most folks won’t AR your butt if’n you plays dumb (or mean: see rules 6 & 7). One time, out drivin’ my ’75 Nova stock-car, I spotted me a city-boy who was buildin’ sum’fin. I put the hammer down, and that rascal flew a mile when I hit him. He were the land owner, and he banned me before I could git some rounds off at his skinny latte-drinkin’ butt. That ain’t the same as no AR, I reckon. Besideways, you git banned and they am plenty other places to run folks over (and shoot ‘em or cut ‘em up later for laffs).
Jist recollect this: most folks, even sim owners, am too dumb or in a hurry to read the dang rules. An’ readin’ am rite important to gittin’ stuff done (like how to AR when you gits after ‘em).
Rule 6: If’n it are some JLU fake hero, git your friends qwik and you ALL run them over, then use Rule 7 (in this kase, just say that ya’ll am havin’ a fake smash-em-up derby for a fake county fair).
Rule 7: If’n it are them rascals from Linden Lab who finds you out, well, once agin’ just play dumb. This am easy for Pappy, who would say sum’fin like "why, Orificer, I was just a-testin’ this stuff before I buys me a big ol’ Linden Dream-Home like ya’ll wants me to and moves in wif my fake wife, Clotilda-Mae, who gots her a prim-bun in the oven, don’t you know."
Or (rule 7, part B) you does it MY way, saying "Pappy Enoch told me to live here, cause he said King Mark are a rat-fink who cain’t run a crap game, let alone no fake-world game. Besides, I are just a po’ widowed gal whose lovin’ husband vanished…just like the other three done did….oh boo hoo hoo what am to become o’ poor me."
Well, they found the body from my last husband, but his head am still missing. How soever that do be, if’n you aims to be a liar, keep them lies short and haul out details only as you needs ‘em for backup.
Final Rule: buy yo’self a fast fake car, so you kin run like hell and find another squat when the deal goes down.
Okey-Dokey, Pix. I’ll take my money now. I reckon you pay out faster than that pussel-but, mealy-mouth, corky-arm, tom-cattin’, good-for-nuffin-but-shootin’-dead brother o’ mine. I lost me one eye in the roller derby cause o’ him goin’ to jail (and I had to take up skatin’ to buy our po’ mama’s medercines).
He ain’t bought me no glass eyeball yet, but I aims to git one out’n his hide. Mark my words. I knows where he am a-squattin’ and I done put some TNT under the tawlet seat in the outhouse, rigged to blow at 400+ pounds o’ fat boy takin’ a dump.
Next week: Fat-boy returns (maybe from orbit in the first-ever Hillbilly Space-Crapper) to write how y’all should decorate your squat.
Hugs, Kisses, and Reloads,
Jezz Enoch
Flint Stone
Apr 28th, 2010
Not quite as good as Possum Pie; but it works.
GreenLantern Excelsior
Apr 28th, 2010
Mama always said you’d put your eye out.
Emperor Norton hears a who?
Apr 28th, 2010
And when the Gorians come about late at night and the scripts are on?
Do you really want to end up dressed like you’re out of “I Dream of Genie” and juggling chainsaws for the purulent amusement of your new furry Gorian rope master Jezz? I think not. You’re just asking for trouble. Yes, I can understand with your family history why you leery at spending the nocturnal hours near your brother but you need to have some virtual street smarts.
Jezz Enoch
Apr 28th, 2010
I ain’t skeered o’ no Gor-gor boys. I knows they wants me as one o’ them slave gals, but I are too smart. I already done made me a deal with one o’ them Steampunk Mad Scientist Fellers, after I read sum’fin you done wrote, Emp’rer Norton.
So if’n them Preacher-Kings o’ Gor lands an’ comes after me one nite, they am a gonna have a jarnormous steam-run robot steppin’ on them!
In return, I’ll git them scientists Pappy’s brain, what they am of it.
hobo kelly
Apr 29th, 2010
Wellzum, I was goina drive my hotwired Corvette over to the Enoch Squat to pickup Jezz for a ride, cuz I done need a good Gunner in the shotgun seat to go out for a Wednesday night of indiscriminate killin’ and maimin’ of them thar Flyin’ Monkeys, rich folks and land barrons. Someone handy wif a gun that could really make a difference, you know, like someone who recycles their brass soas they can have moar fun on the cheap, moar shootin’ and maimin’ fun that is. I envisioned gettin a little loaded and then loading up a little. Or gettin’ a LOT loaded and then loading up a LOT. I even filled up that thar window washer fluid tank with that blue fluid what gets the blood and ligaments offin your windshield real fast.
It would be like a disenfranchised Thelma and Louise type of senario only wif more of a dripping crimson scene. Maybe a little blood and gore and guts in our teeth when time comes to pull into a handy fake roadhouse to have a few moar fake barley pops before findin’ us some moar victums. The kind of thing you moar and moar in Second Life today.
But then I see where that thar green Flyin Monkey says he’s bees bein your brother, and how your mama used to talk about puttin’ peoples eyes out and all. But that thar just don’t seem right to me cuz’ I knows that your brother bees bein one Pappy Enoch. And it don’t make no sense to me no way, no how, that you could have one brother as smart as Pappy, and at the same time have another brother who is so much moar dumber like that thar green Flyin Monkey.
So I bees bein hangin’ back for the time bees bein. As much as a night of indiscriminate Killin’ and Maimin’ sounds like a load of fun against anyone wut gets in our way, I’ll just have to squash bugs an think of things that could have been.
Plus that thar fake ground aint workin so well tonight since them no good Woodburys took to crashin the grid to the ground. I gets me a feelin’ that this is gonna be the summer of discontent. Unless you like hoppin’ trains and shootin Flyin Monkeys that is…
Jezz Enoch
Apr 29th, 2010
Yep, Hobo…some riled-up rascals done brung down the whole fake thing….Xstreet shoppin’ maul, SL fake world, fake-money bank, an’ so on.
We’ll go on that-thar killin’ spree soon as them-there flyin’ monkeys props the mess up agin’ so’s we can have us a time.
Only thing about havin’ us a summer o’ discontent am that like ol’ Richard III (which I were forced to go to in skool–an’ liked somwhat becuz ol’ King Richard were a stone-cold killer) am that somebody come along an’ cuts of YOUR head in the end.
Them flyin’ monkeys am a gonna be madder’n hell now.
Emperor Norton hears a who?
Apr 30th, 2010
Jezz,
hon’ someone needs to explain the facts of life in the big virtual city to you; mad scientists aren’t like your bother, when a mad scientist looks at you he doesn’t see a female avatar, he sees “experimental test subject”. Sure he looks hot with his Tesla coil, lab coat and bad hair day but underneath all that glamor lurks the heart of a mad man. Do you want to end up with a meter tall beehive hairdo after he pulls the leaver? No! Be smart, be safe.
Archie
May 13th, 2010
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