Tuesday, October 26, 2010

The Bob Saga: XXVII: Passport Problems

Sweden Maintains an Embassy in Second Life
Written 24 October, 2010

The Bob Saga

XXVII: Passport Problems

Sweetie TOLD me the second ransom drop would be a bust. She was right. I wasted two entire posts of this fine blog by disregarding her advice.

"We're dealing with an unusual dynamic," she said. "This team of giant birdnappers doesn't quite have the characteristics of the organized type of  criminal, but clearly they're not disorganized. I'm more sure than ever we're dealing with a highly organized, deviously egotistical mastermind-- in other words, Diva-- and a dullard of a henchman. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the varlet has no brain at all."

"So they're like Freebie and the Brain?" I asked. It's one of her favorite television shows. Not infrequently she makes me wear mouse ears and say in my best fake Cockney accent, "Gee, Broin, what're we gonna do todaiy? Huh, Broin, huh?" She answers, of course, "The same thing we do every night, Pinky-- take over the world!"

"That's Pinky and the Brain," she said. "A brilliant maniacal mastermind and a mindless vassal."

"Narf!" I said.

"Do you know why I asked you to dress warmly?" Sweetie asked.

"Nooooo," I said. "Certainly not for Burning Life. It was scorching in that virtual desert!"

"You do have a passport, don't you?"

"Certainly I do," I said brightly. "How else have I been bop-bop-bopping around the grid for years? I've even used it to travel to Blue Mars and the OS Worlds."

"Do you have a visa for Sweden?" she asked.

"Sweden? Why would I need a visa to go to Sweden?"

"Because of  the unfortunate incident," she said."Sweden now requires a visa of all residents of the nation-state of Whimsy."

"Oh, yes, I said. "I still think Sweden overreacted. How were you to know that was the ambassador? Besides, I apologized on your behalf."

"I'd never heard of lutefisk," Sweetie said. "I thought he was proposing some sort of obscene sexual act."

"He didn't like it that you called him a marauding Viking, either," I said.

"By the hammer of Thor, Whimsy must guard her borders at all cost," she said, letting her gaze turn briefly to her katana.

And so, since Sweetie has been permanently banned from Scandinavia, she sent me here, to the Swedish embassy in Second Life, to get a visa-- visas now being required of any resident of Whimsy who wishes to travel to Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland, or Iceland.

What's that, hon? Oh, yes, or the Faroe Islands.

Hello? Is anybody here?

I guess the receptionist is out to lunch.

I might as well look around...

Strange furniture they have here.

I might as well sit around here and listen to Abba until someone shows up.

Okay, now I'm bored!

I'll just lean on the wall here outside Raoul Wallenberg's office.

Whoever's using Raoul's office these days, he or she isn't here. It couldn't hurt to poke about a bit. Could it?

This piece of paper looks like a clue. While nobody's watching...

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