Well, it is over hundred degrees outside, which I’ve discovered is awful biking weather. Thankfully, however, this gives me perfect justification for being a recluse for the rest of the day. Home alone for the next five hours? Score. My first plan was to watch Blue Velvet..
But then, realizing that I had more than enough material for another chapter, and watching Blue Velvet beforehand would completely spoil my mood, and I’d spend the next hour looking for symbolism at the expense of any humor I could possibly churn out.
Also, before I begin, I’d like to ask for a little bit of feedback from any possible readers. Is this format okay? Should I stick with my sort of storytelling, sort of commentary, or should I limit myself to one or the other?
Thank you in advance. I really look forward to hearing from you!
Meet the first B, Blair. The blue eyed black baby.
Looking down at her child, Bridget felt a wave of love overcome her, splashing over Blair, lightly brushing over Darren, and finally landing on the stressful, diaper filled days ahead of her. The idea of being a stay at home mom repulsed her, but being unemployed and too occupied with Blair, she could hardly muster up the motivation to search for work. Every job opening was dull, every interview she fell asleep. Only one career seemed to call to her, but yet it never showed up in the papers or on the online job listings. She had seen it in the movies, though; it had been her father’s favorite film.
She was going to be the next Indiana Jones.
She had to put her dreams aside for the moment, however. Blair’s baby days passed quickly, thank god. She had evolved into something more interesting, something with personality, charm, something like…
Not quite that.
A human being.
In a bear suit. Charming, reminds me of Nicholas Cage in The Wicker Man. I hope she doesn’t punch out her mom.
Being too poor (an extra bedroom had been added to the house right before the wedding-Dirk needed somewhere to sleep for the winter) to afford new clothes, Bridget supposed the bear suit would have to do. Besides, she had bigger problems to wrestle with.
“My thought bubbles burn as much as my hatred.”
“I will steal all of your newspapers, so you can never find a job, and you won’t be able to pay your bills, and you won’t be able to afford food, so you’ll starve to death in this poor, miserable winter. That, dear Bridget, is true revenge.”
Dumbass, she has a computer. You should know.
Darren’s thought bubbles weren’t the only thing on fire, though.
“It’s BUUUUURNIIINGGG! COVER MY EYESSS”
And thus, the second B arrived. I blame Darren and his flaming thoughts. He blew up the stove with his mind! Scheming bastard, plotting to ruin my legacy at the third chapter..
Thankfully, the fire response team in Sims 2 kicks the ass of the one in Sims 3, and so the legacy founder survived, thus ensuring that the legacy won’t end before the second generation hits puberty.
“How could this night get any worse?”
You tempted fate, Bridget, you tempted fate.
[insert loud, obnoxious siren noise here]
Even though Bridget has done some pretty terrible things (Poor Darren), I honestly admit to feeling bad for her right now. Exhausted from baby, terrified from fire, and now burglars? Can’t a girl catch a break?
I am so glad these police drive like they’re in NASCAR or something.
“Awh shit man, it wasn’t me, I swear.”
Rather than pulling the whole “hands over your head” deal, the policewoman goes for a good old fashioned wrestling match.
“No smoking on the porch, guys.”
After what I swear was a three hour wrestling match, Pippi Longstocking puts away the criminal. “For justice!” cried Pippi.
Bridget, who was a firm believer in justice, followed suit. “For justice!”
Exhausted and wishing to do nothing but play computer games, Bridget found herself in a very difficult predicament the next morning. Blair was begging for attention, but Bridget hadn’t had a single bit of fun in weeks. Two voices called her, each beckoning with wise proverbs, each with powerful reasoning behind them.
Bridget decided on a compromise. It was time to spend those aspiration points.
“This machine is almost more frightening than my counters!”
“Here’s some Nilbog milk. Special milk. High in vitamin content.”
DON’T DRINK IT!
OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
Half man, half plant. A goblin’s favorite food. Bridget, what have you done!? You’re a crazier bitch than I’d thought.
*reads the reward’s description*
Well, that was embarrassing. Bridget’s plan was much less sinister than I’d imagined. With the special milk, Blair’s learning curve hit turbo speed, and Bridget managed to teach her how to walk and talk in a few short hours.
Toddlers walk so cute.
After having spent some quality learning time with her daughter, Bridget decided to take a well needed trip. She would not be visiting her mother and grandmother in Florida-this would be too philanthropic of her, and besides, none of them could understand her goal, anyway. They’d been the deniers, constantly scoffing at her father’s ideas. Bridget was in desperate need of someone to talk to, however. She’d spoken to a close friend on the phone many times, but she craved physical contact. A telephone could not give her what she desperately needed.
Mind made up, she decided to spend what little cash remained on a nanny.
Only slightly worried by her zombielike stare, Bridget thanked the nanny and was on her way.
Besides, she rather liked zombies.
A number of colorful characters graced the bar. The not-Scotsman and sad faced flapper were on their eighth drink each, neither speaking to the other. Bored by her tired depression, he leaped to the karaoke machine and turned to Bridget.
“I’ve just met you, and this is craaaazy,” he sang.
“But we have less chemistry,” sang Bridget (Her singing voice reminded the woman in the red coat of a depressed frog), “than lions mating.”
“You sing worse than my grandma’s cat,”snapped Not Scotsman.
I’m bummered out that they don’t have any chemistry. I really liked that guy.
A future mating prospect! Bridget chatted him up immediately, learning his name, Benjamin. The fourth B of the day. After ten minutes and a few less drinks, their meeting became a date.
They started by playing karaoke. If they could manage each other’s dreadful voices for a song, they could manage married life.
“You ready for this?”
“Are you the girl who was singing earlier? The really shitty one?”
IN EVERY SINGLE WAY
AND WORDS CAN’T BRING ME DOWN
“You were pretty great,” purred Bridget.
“I know,” replied Benjamin.
Orgasmic hand kiss! I can feel their self righteous babies kicking already.
Love! Sex! Hope! Betrayal! Gratuitous violence!
I leave you with this.
Please don’t eat her nanny:(