5.11 Anarchy Rules

It was a dark and stormy night. Detective Guy Mansfield had just returned from a hard day of investigating. It had been a tricky case today, but Mansfield was the best there was, and the man was locked away for good. He wouldn’t be stealing another pack of gum anytime soon.

Guy’s trusty canine, Sparky Dogfield, stood guard at the stern as the detective put down his umbrella.

“Our work here is done,” said Guy. “Tomorrow we sail for Bridgeport.”

“Ruff,” said Sparky.

And on the other side of town, the story you came here to read.

Calamity: I’m gonna eat this grilled cheese and then take a nap!

Frieda: I’m going to sit here and wait for your father to die.

…Why do you want to read this story, again?

Is it for the occasionally adorable horses? That must be it.

Storm: Ugh, get a room!

Pokey: You get a room.

Storm: *gets a room*

Axorn: YOU SURE TOLD HER.

After successfully napping through her childhood, Calamity was finally ready to become a teenager.

Omen: God, Fiasco, could you take up any more space at this table?

Fiasco: S-sorry. Should I move my fingers?

Calamity: I wish…

For more energy?

Calamity: No, I wish…

To not have a gaping hole in your abdomen?

Calamity: No, not that…

Then what?

Calamity: I wish I could reach my cake!

Omen: World peace, a cure for cancer, an end to animal cruelty… and you wish for cake. How enterprising.

Need I remind you…

Omen: DO NOT DREDGE UP MY DARK AND TROUBLESOME PAST

Omen went off sulking, but that’s okay because literally everyone else came out to celebrate Calamity’s striptease birthday. Including Great-Great-Great-Grandpa Tewl.

Tewl: I heard derr was a striptease?

Calamity: Boy, that was hard. I’m gonna go—

Yeah, WE KNOW.

Newly Clumsy (oh god) Calamity couldn’t even finish her precious cake before she was out like a light. You’ll get a better look at her makeover soon.

But first, another birthday!

Tewl: Oops, gotta go. *cloud of weed smoke ghost vapour*

Poor Rhapsody. All her relatives were too busy eating cake and/or returning to the Netherworld to watch her blow out the candles.

Frieda: You can’t guilt me, I am dead inside.

At least she grew up cute! She looks an awful lot like Mommy and big brother Crash.

Oh, and her hair? It’s not black. But I’m horrible and I’m not telling you more until the pictures start doing their job. >:)

You’ll notice Cally’s hair isn’t black either—not anymore. That’s because when 70% of your bloodline is born with the same hair colour, you earn the licence to say “fuck it” and start changing things.

Frieda: What… interesting fashion choices.

Calamity: Says the corpse bride of 900 B.C.

Frieda: …You are dead to me.

Dead to you, and to everyone else. I have to say, I’m pretty pleased with my three ghost kids. It’s great because this fearless klutz can flail babies in the air all she wants with no risk of breaking them.

Calamity: Pffft, I’m not gonna drop her.

Rhapsody: I trust you. ❤

Fatal Error #1.

Hey now, what’s with the Skydancer hate? She’s not even in the same room as you!

Calamity: I have decided I need a nemesis.

Right, so pick the immortal pyromaniac with magical powers.

Calamity: I like to live dangero—

GET A NEW SCHTICK ALREADY.

Skydancer: I sense someone is upset with me. I must fix this.

Crash: Hurr?

Skydancer: You’re right, that should do it!

At least he’s found someone to communicate with?

But the rivalry was short-lived, as Calamity soon found a new force to contend with.

Calamity: Noooo not the all-in-one bathroom, what ever shall we DO??!

Use a larger more sanitary bathroom like normal p—

Calamity: Have no fear, Captain Napatron is here!

On the contrary, I am very afraid.

Captain Napatron is not the only one who likes to live dangerously idiotically around here.

Paparazzi: Mr. Langurd! Are you sure you want to race that horse on such low energy? He might throw you!

Gumby: Ha! I walk on the wild side. I laugh in the face of danger. Ha ha ha ha! *gets thrown*

Then butthurt Gumby zoomed off and left Axorn to find his own way home.

Axorn: THAT’S OKAY MASTER. I WILL WALK FIVE HUNDRED MILES, STOPPING AT REGULAR INTERVALS TO FORAGE FOR GRAIN.

Who’s walking on the wild side now? #Axorn4King2k16

I put Gumby on poop duty as punishment for being such a pansycake. Wow, that’s a lot of P’s. (Unlike what’s in the potty after this pathetic parenting attempt, am I right? XD)

Rhapsody: You left horsey on the road!

He did a slightly better job with simple-minded Crash.

Gumby: Now that’s a lot of P.

I know, blur grid and everything!

But with five single births in one generation, there’s only so much ground a parent can cover.

Fiasco: I was going to do my homework, but…

But what?

Fiasco: I was hoping…

Spit it out, chump.

Fiasco: Well, I was hoping maybe…

HA! Dream on, my little cinnamon roll.

I realize I’ve been super stingy about showing you Cally’s teen look. I wish I was being a tricksy little hobbitses, but the truth is I just suck at pictures. Here are some truly crappy, unhelpful ones for your viewing pleasure.

Cally: I love fishing. Eat, sleep, fish—that’s what I always said.

Since when?

Cally: Thirty seconds ago.

Cally: Aww yisssss! The pinnacle of my career! Time to hit the hay.

Actually no, time to go to school. You know, that place with the desks and the blackboards?

Calamity: I’m not familiar. Is there naptime?

Maybe ten years ago.

Calamity: This place. It sounds like hell.

A few hours later, I got this pop-up about Fiasco, who was under the weather that day. But it’s hilarious because…

Fiasco: Learning is fun! *sniffle*

…we totally didn’t.

I guess you don’t see it in the screenshots, but this family gets sick a LOT. Probably because they are a cesspool of human scum with no sharing boundaries.

Gumby: Oh no Crash, stop eating that shower grime!

Crash: Durrrr ❤

Gumby: Welp, it probably won’t kill him, right?

Except for little Rhapsody. She’s the paragon of purity, a Skydancer 2.0 if you will.

Rhapsody: ♩ Is this the real life, is this just fantasy? ♫

Until rock ‘n’ roll corrupts her.

Why can’t Frieda do her share of the parenting? Let’s ask her.

Frieda: Can’t talk now, too busy—oof!

Frieda: Too busy living life to the fullest!

Yeah, now that she’s pumped out five kids (with barely 5% of her genes, I might add) Frieda is downright fearless.

Frieda: Hello, unicorn. I think I will be your new master.

Axorn: NEW MASTER, I PLEDGE YOU MY LOYALTY!!!!!!!

Frieda: Yikes.

Another not-so-expert photobomb by Storm. Look at her, being a pretty little creeper.

Storm: I am not Storm, I am a tree.

I am also becoming increasingly concerned that “she” is actually a “he.” I remember her being born female, but I also played this stuff seven months ago, and a quick Google search of “my female unicorn has a beard” yields no results. At this point it’s highly possible that I’m highly confused. But hey, colt or filly, what’s it matter as long as she’s happy winning races?

Actually, she’s still in training and has yet to enter a race because Gumby is a slacker.

Gumby: Good work, team. We got this. *stands inert, reads a newspaper, smokes a cigar*

Pokey: All in favour of mutiny, say “aye.”

Let’s be real, Pokester. He’s only slacking on your daughter’s training because you’re such an attention hog.

Pokey: Hey, it’s not my fault he rolls all these wishes for me.

And their special bond does have its benefits…

You hear that? From now on, she’ll have more fun having fun. How useful!

Gumby: I’m so glad we’re best friends.

Pokey: Yeah, yeah. Let’s go have some fun so I can have fun having fun.

Gumby: Okay!

Sky: So they get to have all the fun and I get to live at the library?

Hey now…

Always remember the golden rule.

Sorry Omen, I don’t have a rhyme for living at the chess table.

Omen: That’s fine, I’ll go engage in another not-fun activity.

Omen: Having fun isn’t hard when you’re babysitting the family discard.

Hey now, don’t talk about your brother that way!

After all, we know that not-so-sharp Langurds can lead very fulfilling lives. Take Mandrake here, enjoying a night on the town with his invisible husband.

Mandrake: Isn’t this fun, Tariq? How about some karaoke?

Lonely Old Man: And I thought my life was sad.

Watch out, ladies, there’s soon to be one more lonely old man in town.

Gumby: Lonely? I’m growing old with horses!

Axorn: MAKE HASTE, MASTER! WE HAVE A RACE TO WIN!

Gumby: Look at me, Pokey! I’m a soggy old celery stick!

Axorn: POKEY WENT HOME, MASTER.

Gumby: Oh… Let’s win this race then, shall we?

They had a decent run at the jumps, and Gumby got a much-needed makeover. But he had only one birthday wish…

When your best ship is a guy and his horse.

#signsyourstoryisamess

Meanwhile, Frieda and Manny watched a lively spectacle at the Swanky Coffeehouse™.

Mandrake: I… don’t get it?

Frieda: What’s not to get? It’s an old man staring at a wall. It’s genius!

Manny: And this sells better than my acrobatics?

Modern art is a temperamental beast.

In other spare news, Lev’s middle child Dominique became an emo kid and found emo-kid love with simself progeny. Read: His life is in the toilet waiting for someone to flush.

A rare sighting of Calamity en route from fridge to bed. Still no decent headshot, I’m afraid.

Calamity: If you really wanna know what I look like, go see Auntie Sky. I’m sure her day is less busy than mine.

What’s wrong, Fifi?

Fiasco: I don’t want to be needy, but— but I’m almost a teenager and… and my parents have barely looked at me!

Par for the course, bud. You’re a Langurd.

Fiasco: I don’t know… do you think they’ll send me to boarding school?

Kid…

Fiasco: Did I do something wrong? I mean, they talk to Crash more than me, and he can’t even talk back!

Fiasco: LIFE IS SO UNFAIR! *thunder*

Shhh, don’t wake the baby!

Fiasco: *runs off crying*

Every middle child cracks at some point. 😉

And every family, even this one, has boundaries.

BOUNDARIES, DAX, GODDAMIT!

Dax: This frosted glass is a boundary to my perving. Teehee.

Calamity: You are so dead.

Calamity: What kind of trash perves on his great-granddaughter?

Dax: You’re my great-granddaughter?

Calamity: What kind of trash doesn’t recognize his great-granddaughter?

Calamity: Dislike.

And Captain Napatron gains another enemy.

Calamity: Fuck bitches, get money.

Uh, no.

Calamity: Fuuuuuuuuuck this, I’m going back to bed.

Now that Fiasco’s learning to stand up for himself, he finally scored a brief hangout with his mom. Clearly by accosting her as she came out of the shower.

Fiasco: Showers are rad.

Frieda: Word.

Fiasco: Omigosh we are so cool.

Frieda: Aren’t we just?

But that lasted all of two interactions, so he had to find more relatives to pester.

Fiasco: Oh no, I didn’t mean to wake you, it’s just that I haven’t eaten in three days.

Dax: Move, you’re blocking the TV.

Look at Cally here, being all responsibibble and stuff.

Omen: Why is your hand up Mom’s skirt?

Calamity: Shh, I heard she keeps diamonds in there.

Omen: And? Does she?

Calamity: No, it’s actually just a freakish solid mass in here. I’m not even sure she has legs.

Calamity (writing): Conclusion—my mother is a liar and possibly a cyborg.

Frieda:

Frieda: I’d like to congratulate you on your vegetarianism.

Omen: God, that’s so embarrassing. It’s not like I do it for the recognition.

Arabella: Admiring Rarity, are you? Well, kindly get your own favourite, as she is mine.

I so wish these two could’ve met in life.

With summer finally upon us, it’s time to visit the newly de-thawed Fool’s Goldmine. How many corpses do you think we’ll find on the beach? 10? 20? The Walking Dead incarnate?

Gumby: Hey hey hey, the Big Boss is in the building! You got ten seconds to stop goofing off and make the place spotless!

…Right. You merciless tyrant, you.

Gumby: What? The place looks perfect.

You don’t notice anything… a little off?

Gumby: No, why?

You’re the worst resort owner ever. Go soak your head.

Gumby: Okay.

Things aren’t really so bad at the resort. The luxurious swimming pool is enjoyed by satisfied simselves and their canine companions.

Sammy: This isn’t my dog.

Oh. Well in that case, yeah, the place has gone to shit.

It’s that time of year again! Time to lurk outside the high school doors and scout marriage prospects.

Guy: Wut

Our options so far include Jowly McGinger…

…and the lovechild of Gollum and Elrond.

Golrond: Llie n’vanima ar’ lle atara lanneina.

We’ll keep looking.

The Ghost Trap strikes again.

Frieda: Wall is fascinating.

And a few hours later, it’s time for Storm’s racing debut!

Gumby: Don’t worry girl, you’ve got this.

Storm: I know I’ve got this, but do you got this?

Gumby: Oh, we got this.

Don’t mind me, just crying at how pretty this game is.

Just like that, Storm won her first race. Can’t say Gumby isn’t good for anything.

…but we can say he’s not good for much. Considering Fiasco managed to disappear from the household for several hours before I found him on some random’s patio, contemplating the meaning of life.

Fiasco: It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.

Even Frieda was a better parent than Gumby that night, taking Rhapsody on a moonlit stroll through the gardens.

Rhapsody: Ooooh, pretty flowers!

Frieda: And that concludes our tour.

I really must think about doing some more landscaping.

Sibling bonding, now that’s what I like to see! What a perfect opportunity to exchange some chit-chat by the pond. 😀

“So sis, how’d you bite it?”

Not exactly the “chit-chat” I had in mind. -.-

This legacy may be a shitshow 90% of the time, but other times things work out too perfectly for words. The girls had their communal birthday earlier – now, it’s the boys’ turn.

Calamity: I don’t wanna go to a sausagefest.

Do you realize how many sausages have graced that microwave you’re standing in?

Calamity: GET ME OUT OF HERE

Omen: We are manly men. We are so cool.

Fiasco: Lol yeah!

Gumby: Don’t forget Crash! He’s manly too!

Crash: Heeeeeee!

Cake: *foom*

Gumby: Oh, bother.

So one cake lights up, and three barely-adjacent chairs decide to join the party.

Gumby: What do we do?

Sky: Terminate the bloodline.

Frieda: Well that’s awfully morbid.

Razor: What’s this about ending the family? You wouldn’t do that to your ancestors.

Frieda: Who are you?

A cooler ghost than you any day.

And guess who else came to call in the middle of a crisis.

Razor: You tell him hell no, sister. That boy is leagues beneath you.

Skydancer: Already on it, Pops.

Everyone did get to their cakes eventually, and here’s what we got out of it:

One Dramatic young adult.

Omen: The end is nigh.

(Oh, and let’s not ignore the fact that he suddenly got muscly and pretty??)

One Neurotic child.

Crash: …

(+ One bonus case of the Bimple Pox)

And one Excitable teenager, but ain’t nobody got time for three whole close-ups, so guess who got shafted… again.

Rhapsody: Are you my daddy?

Omen: No.

Rhapsody: Where’s my daddy?

Omen: Let’s just say we’re orphans, okay kid? Heck, we might as well be.

At this point, the five-kids-with-basically-no-parents dynamic struck a chord with me, and I got nostalgic for a 90’s drama (as you do).

The kids’ ages even match up perfectly right now. How weird is that?

Fiasco: Well hey, if you’re Charlie and I’m Bailey, you should teach me to drive.

Omen: Technically, you’re Julia.

Fiasco: Oh.

Omen: I can give you awkward non-advice on boys and make-up.

Fiasco: N-no, I’m good.

Jk though, ‘cause their parents weren’t killed by a drunk driver. They’re just CONSTANTLY STUCK IN THE LIGHT FIXTURES OMG.

Frieda: Lol halp

______________________________________________________________________________

You know when you put off writing so long that you get rusty? And not just rusty as in “this totally sucks,” but as in “it physically hurts to put words down, feels like my brain has arthritis” kind of rusty? Yeah, I really need to start churning these things out faster because I just ground some serious corrosion out of the old cogs. I’M TOO YOUNG FOR THIS SHIT. D:

To be fair, life has been kind of insane lately. We’re in the heat of competitive quidditch season and that means practice, practice, practice, jam-packed weekends living out of a gym bag, and dragging around leaden muscles for days afterward. This regime doesn’t leave much room for sitting down with a laptop and a fully-functioning brain. I’m also doing a ton of admin crap which means booking hotels and barking orders and begging 40 university students for money on a regular basis, which is a downright party as you can imagine.

I feel like some of you still don’t believe me when I talk about playing quidditch, so here’s some blurry proof.

This is my “I’m going to kill you but please don’t take my bludger” stance.

As opposed to my straight-up “I’m going to kill you” stance.

So next time you think “omg Sam is such a slacker, what is she just lying on the floor like a potato,” rest assured that I am probably running around on a broom throwing things at people, which by contrast is a totally productive use of my time.

Nationals are next weekend so I doubt I’ll update before then, but I can’t predict how I’ll end up channelling my stress. 😀

Happy Simming!

-Sam

Advertisement