4-2: The Sun Sets on Sunset Valley

Young Watson was working on his novel. Unsure of what to name his characters (“I don’t like to define them too much,” he told his editor during the day he believed in editors) but certain of his totally fantastic, completely original plot, he barreled on.

The Inspector punched Poverty Williams in his mangy, hideous face and laughed triumphantly as the villain slammed into the ground. Poverty would never loom over The Inspector’s family again, and with a few more incredible, earth shatteringly powerful punches, he would be deader than a fossilized dinosaur. None of that Jurassic Park coming back to life mumbo jumbo. Poverty’s fall was entirely thanks to The Inspector’s massive intellect, of course. Pianist, Lazy Gold Digger, and Nobody were no help. Pianist simply neglected her piano and slept with her lovers, Lazy Gold Digger found love in an overflowing bank account, and Nobody, well, nobody knew what Nobody did. With such a hedonistic family, naturally it was The Inspector’s duty to save the day.

Perhaps he should write a note to his parents, just a little goodbye before Scarlett, Daisy, Rose and he snuck away to Moonlight Falls. An upfront farewell seemed too risky, Young Watson had decided earlier that morning. He didn’t want his mother to weep, or his father to smarmily wish Scarlett good luck on her grades. Young Watson loathed when his father talked down to his children. It was not that they were dumb-well, except for Rose and Daisy, most of the time-they simply hadn’t had the centuries Malix had to build up their knowledge and cynicism. Damn pretentious vampires. If Young Watson were to be truly honest with his self, as he usually was, he didn’t want to write his father a goodbye note at all.

His mother, however, deserved the courtesy. She was only stupid, not actively malicious or mildly condescending. He would continue for another paragraph, and then write the formal goodbye, if only because he didn’t hate his mother.

Unfortunately, Poverty would hunt them forever, unless they snuck away from the Stepford Suburbs and into Lovecraft country. They’d blend into the scenery while reaping in cash by the barrel-perhaps through debatably dubious means. The Inspector gritted his teeth together and pulled his hat low over his eyes, glaring at the monstrous, wicked man on the ground. “Just you wait, Poverty Williams,” he growled, “I’m going to put an end to…”

“This relationship,” said Scarlett. “I didn’t want to have to do this here, but I think this is something that has to be done. I’m really sorry, Terrance. I wish things could stay the same.”

“Are you breaking up with Gage, too?” growled Terrance. He was often furious when being broken up with, and liked to attribute his hair trigger temper to his hamster’s exaggerated suicide when he was four. “Or are you trying out monogamy for a change?”

“It’s not that I want to leave either of you,” sighed Scarlett, although she wasn’t so sure about this now. After his previous comment, she was quite looking forward to breaking it off with Gage. “I’m leaving town tonight, and I don’t want to go with too much baggage.”

“Is that all we are to you? Baggage?”

“I care about both of you-that’s why I’m doing this.  Long distance wouldn’t work. We thrive on intimacy, not romance. The miles would kill us all.”

“I don’t believe this!” shouted Terrance. “You’re shitting me.”

“And you’re being an asshole,” snapped Scarlett. “I didn’t come here to get called a liar.”

“And I didn’t come here to get dumped like some worthless sack of shit!”

“Go home, Terrance,” sighed Scarlett. “I’m done with this.”

“Fuck you, too.”

Scarlett rubbed her temples as Terrance sprinted to his car. Her lashes fluttered when the door slammed. Her fingers trembled while the wheels screeched away, away, away, and gone. They always left like this. Angry, dismissive, frightened, lost, nearly as lonely as they were before and twice as sexless. Scarlett hated to see them flee, but she never wanted to see them return. “Relationships aren’t made for second chances,” she’d said, back when she was young and still fresher than spring rain.

“Neither are toilets,” said Young Watson, who had clogged up the toilet three times that day and was terribly fed up with modern plumbing.

“He just didn’t understand how much fun it is to kiss different boys,” sighed Scarlett.

“Maybe he should try kissing boys,” suggested Young Watson.

“You’re not very helpful,” she giggled, “but thanks for listening, Young Watson. You’re my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother,” stated Young Watson. “It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice.”

Thinking back on the conversation, Scarlett smiled. She’d learned a lot from playground games of kiss and tag, and later from cafeteria games of truth or dare. She followed her love’s every fleeting fancy, and that suited her just fine. Nothing tied down Scarlett Belue.  Head held high, she marched to the beauty salon, fully prepared for the awaiting war.

Scarlett arrived in a timely manner, though her feet felt as if they’d been mauled by a furious swarm of tax collectors. Heels weren’t nearly as comfortable as sneakers, Scarlett decided, and vowed to stop by the consignment store on her way home. She then sighed as she realized that she could not afford the consignment store. “Being poor sucks,” she muttered to herself. The salon patrons heartily agreed.

“Yeah, it does,” said Gage, appearing beside her. He never wore shoes, and thus his arrivals often came silent unannounced. When asked why he despised typical footwear, Gage shattered into a blubbering wreck and sputtered more nonsense than a lukewarm politician. Scarlett would’ve thrown up her hands and left if he hadn’t been wearing such lovely socks.

“I need to talk to you,” said Scarlett. She took a long, tragic breath. “About us.”

“Terrance called,” stated Gage. “You’re breaking up with me.”

“Er, yeah. It’s nobody’s fault but those money mongering, property stealing, fishing addict jackasses. You’ve got to believe me when I say that this hurts all of us, and I’m really sorry to have to leave you and Terrance.” The second breakup of the day was no easier than the first, Scarlett realized. Leaving is never simple.

“At first I was angry,” said Gage gravely, “so angry I tattooed ‘Dirty Slut’ on my client’s ass. She was pretty upset, but then again, so was I.”

“Wow.” Scarlett clucked her tongue and nodded her approval. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“I was really, really mad.” Gage looked away. “But then I thought for a while, and decided it’s probably a good idea. Long distance wouldn’t fit any of us.”

“No, it wouldn’t. We’d fall apart inside a week.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m okay with it ending like this. I want to us to end in friendship, not in murder.”

Scarlett smiled softly. Gage had always been her favorite, though she’d never admit it. He was the only nearly levelheaded man she’d ever dated, and definitely the least traumatized, too. “Can I have one more hug before we never see each other again?”

“I’ll miss you, Scarlett,” whispered Gage, pulling her close. He brushed a strand of hair from her ear, and let out a long, resigned sigh.

“I’ll miss you, too,” said Scarlett. She wasn’t quite sure if she meant it, but thought it sounded better than a curt, “Er, yeah. Right.” Gently stepping back, she added, “But I’ve got to go.”

Meanwhile, Daisy was trying to disentangle herself from an embrace of her own.

“You’re beautiful,” said Thornton. His wife shuffled about upstairs.

“You’re married,” said Daisy.

The mood died nearly as quickly as the affair, and only half as cleanly. Daisy left the house swiftly, silently, and without shedding a single tear. She’d gone through three boxes of Kleenexes the night before, and knew they couldn’t afford another six-pack. “I’ll find a new fiancé,” she muttered, “and this time, I won’t be his goddamn side dish. I’m totally an entrée.”

Her phone buzzed, clear and frightening in a hazy night. Clumsily, Daisy reached inside her dress and groped around for a bit before discovering her phone frantically vibrating between her breasts. She yanked it out and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“Daisy?” said Young Watson.

“Yeah?”

“The cab’s here. Where are you?”

“I just broke up with Thornton.”

“Spectacular. Shall we come pick you up?”

“You really have no sense of empathy, Young Watson.”

“And you have no sense of punctuality,” retorted her brother. “We’ll be there in ten.”

Young Watson snapped his phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. Glancing up, it suddenly dawned on him how lovely each star was, and how brilliantly the moon shone in the inky night. The universe was aligned to bring him good fortune.

He hoped that meant they’d con lots of people.

“Someone turned on a torch,” said Rose. What she meant was, “Mom and Dad have just woken up, and Mom seems to have stepped into the kitchen and discovered the note that you so lazily wrote on a dryer sheet.” What Young Watson heard was, “Let’s go!”

They piled into the car. Rose glued her nose to the window, and Scarlett glued her nose in a book of sheet music. She wanted to memorize the notes before they hit the town’s outskirts. Rose scowled first at her book, and then at Scarlett. “Music when home’s on the line?” she hissed.

“Mom and Dad will manage,” said Scarlett. “They always have.”

Inside, Pandora discovered Young Watson’s hasty goodbye. “Whizzer!” she cried. “Malix, they’re going to college!”

“Fat chance of that,” said Malix, reluctantly slinking out of the bedroom. “Who would give financial aid to those lazy kids?”

Nobody would give them financial aid, but this was a result of Sims 3 lacking a University expansion pack rather than the Belue children’s questionable work ethic.

“They’re not lazy!” protested Pandora. “They’re just a little wibbley wobbley when it comes to making the wheels turn-that’s all.”

“If you say so,” shrugged Malix. “To be honest, I’m glad they’re gone. They were way too old to be living with us.”

Pandora thought about this for a moment. A grin spread across her face. “You know what?” she asked.

“What?” asked Malix, raising his eyebrow quizzically.

“I’ve been waiting for an empty nest.” She stepped closer to him.

“You’ve gotten a lot older than you used to be,” said Malix.

“You’re still, like, totally smoking,” sighed Pandora. She began to cry. “And I guess I’m really unlucky to be in love with someone like you.”

Feeling terribly awkward and a little sad, Malix leaned forward. Humans rarely garnered his affections, but over the years he’d grown a bit attached to Pandora. “Hey, don’t cry, Panda.” he said softly. “I still think you’re pretty.”

Pandora looked up. “Really?”

“Really.”

As a kiss was exchanged, the taxi grew smaller in the distance, winding up twirling roads, roaring dangerously into the moonlit future.

                                      

Yeah Yeah Yeahs – “Cheated Hearts”

A/N: And the plot begins! I’m sorry for all of the long waits between chapters.. I hope to get another chapter out during break, but don’t know how long it will be after that. Finals and the One Act are going to take up most of January. 😦 I have NOT given up, though. The Belues will endure!

Beeteedubs, the Family Tree has been updated with Generation Three, and the Soundtrack page has the playlist embedded, so no more link hopping.

Thanks for reading, everybody. (:

In conclusion:

Daisy’s feeling some Irene Adler today.