6.2 Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Happy October 13th! Today (which is likely long before I will actually post this) marks three important occasions:

1) The 22nd birthday of my K-Pop bias, but let’s not get into that

2) The end of a year-long slap bet of which I am commissioner (meaning four of my guy friends are now free to get haircuts, thank god)

3) The awkward moment when we learn that, even with a fire up her butt, Gryffindork is an incorrigibly lazy S.O.B.

Well, guess what? Now it’s the last day of October, and I think it’s safe to say SimNaWriMo has me beat. To a pulp. But we will press on, and turn that pulp into paper!

*excuses self to vomit at own pun*

Now, where were we? Ah yes, in the pits of despair after Pokey’s silent passing.

Axorn: MY SOUL IS COLD AND EMPTY LIKE THE NIGHT

Gumby: What’s got him so upset?

…Did no one tell Gumby yet?! Well fuck, I’m certainly not doing it.

I had this whole fire stunt planned as a last hoorah for Gumby and Pokey, knowing one of them was bound to kick the bucket soon, but I guess I forgot how much Pokey liked to kick stuff…

Gumby: What do you mean? Where’s Pokey?

Axorn: I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE STORM IS A UNICORN

Yes, thank you for that diversion.

Thankfully, Frieda takes one for the team. You da best, Frieda.

Frieda: I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Pokey died.

Gumby: She what?!

Frieda: And I know you’ll always love her more than me, so I totally understand if you want to go be with her.

Gumby: Nonsense! We’ll get through this together! *autonomous inappropriate makeout*

Frieda: No really, you can go join her.

Sky: This one’s thicker than the unicorn.

Welcome to Fruitless Undertakings with Rhapsody! A new miniseries in which our youngest spare repeatedly picks up new hobbies on Free Will, only for me to immediately shut them down.

Rhapsody: Hey Grandpa Razor, you were the only cool person in this family. I wanna be just like you!

No.

Rhapsody: But I got a white belt and everything!

No.

Rhapsody: It’s what Pokey would have wanted!

No. Go to bed.

Rhapsody: Hey, what the hell!

What can I say? I guess heiress does what heiress wants.

Rhapsody: But her bed is like a thousand times better than mine!

Calamity: Arrest me lol.

While Cal sleeps her life away, Omen deftly works his charm on Quinn, his elusive and indomitable chess opponent.

Omen: Hey man, how about spending the night at my place? We’ve got so many beds, you really shouldn’t have to go home between matches.

Quinn: You silver-tongued wizard, you.

Omen: So that’s a yes?

Surprisingly, it’s not Omen we have to worry about. Tricky little hobbitses, this will not do! :O

CALAMITY! Get out of the pillows and go get your man back!!

Calamity: Later.

I think this is how the legacy ends. o_o

She does eventually rise for much less important matters, i.e. her job, but she’s in no state to be here.

Calamity: My dad’s horse died!

Emily: Gosh I’m so sorry, let me make you a casserole.

Calamity: Really?!

Emily: No.

What do you do when your coworkers shun you and your job is a bigass disappointment of nothingness?

Caffeinate ‘til the cows come home, baby.

Speaking of cows…

Paparazzi: Hi there, I’m an investigative reporter tasked with untangling the deepest mysteries of the Langurd clan. Now, if you’re willing to do some talking, I think you and I can really help each other out.

Crash: …

Aaaand we’re back with another episode of Fruitless Undertakings with Rhapsody!

Rhapsody: I’ve found my calling. I’m going to be a pool shark.

No.

Rhapsody: Now just wait a second, you haven’t seen my trick shot!

*fails terrifically*

Rhapsody: Well guys, it’s been fun.

The end.

Sky’s entire life is a fruitless undertaking. I’ve long since had to abandon her Fairy Godmother schtick after realizing that all she does is upset people.

Sky: Did my charm work?

Kearney: I don’t think so. I want my money back.

Sky: You didn’t pay me.

Kearney: Then I want your money back.

Her existence is not exactly lucrative.

Maeve: Aw hell naw, you come near me with those sparkles and you’re dead.

Sky: Too late?

Maeve: *guttural sound*

Admittedly, she does brighten a few days here and there.

Aaron: Oh boy, I like this trick!

Sky: This isn’t how it— never mind…

Sky: Pssst, hey Logan, have you ever wanted to breathe fire?

Logan: YOU MEAN LIKE THIS?? *incinerates her face*

Sky: Not… exactly…

At least she’s making a name for herself?

Paparazzi: Say, how’s it feel to be the worst fairy ever?

Sky: I would like to announce my retirement.

Lolno, not when we’ve come so far I enjoy this so much.

Oh, hey Quinn. Sneaking in some practice to ensure another swift crushing of Omen, I see.

Quinn: Who, me? Never!

He lies. This is a man in intensive training. I once got like six pop-ups about his logic skill increasing in two sim hours. I’m not even mad.

He has apparently attained such skill that he can juggle both sides of the chess board AND an unrelated conversation.

Quinn: I heard your dad’s horse died.

Calamity: Yeah.

Quinn: My condolences.

Calamity: Thanks.

Quinn: But I’m not making you a casserole either.

Calamity: Okay.

And so, after much delay, the wooing of Quinn Flanagan begins – and progresses smoothly despite the sabotaging efforts of this kid.

Calamity: Get this, I’m a frrrwwmmmfff.

Quinn: Sorry? I didn’t catch that.

Calamity: *inhale* I said I’m a firefighter!

Quinn: Oooh, fascinating!

Kid: Get a room already.

Luckily, they’re one step ahead of him.

Quinn: I can’t wait to have a slumber party with your brother.

Or not.

Turns out Cal is just as suave as Omen when it comes to giving guests the grand tour.

Calamity: Welcome to my crib.

Quinn: You sure know how to make a man feel at home.

Meanwhile, these other budding love stories trickle in from around town:

Nice try Donte, but dating another Sam won’t help your Oedipus complex.

Speaking of Mommy dearest, the new incarnation of my simself hasn’t changed her tastes…

…and her latest sugar daddy is two-timing with another simself. More like Manwhore Langurd-Scott, amirite?

This one I suppose I can live with (Dom is LeffJeff’s son). And apparently they live right across the road!

Can’t you just see it? He was touring with his emo band, she was running errands for a big-time producer, she spilled coffee on him in the break room, and the rest is history.

Dominique: I’m just a notch in your bedpost, but you’re just a line in a song.

Livy: Oh stop it.

Dominique: I’ll follow you into the dark.

Livy: No really, stop.

Here’s Episode 2 of Tragic Crash, entitled “No Man Is an Island… Well, Almost No Man.”

If you look really closely, there’s a stupid Zenyatta at his feet. I thought I deleted them all when we moved, but there must’ve been a stowaway.

When he’s not being tragic, he pumps iron in the Gym of Terrible Logistics until he gets heatstroke and a suntan.

On second thought, that’s also pretty tragic.

On that note, let’s check in on Calamity’s love life. She and Quinn must have at least made it to friend status (that or this bed is really glitched) because come morning, this is how I find them.

Quinn: Where am I? Whose house is this?

Quinn: Who are you. What the fuck.

Quinn: Whatever, I’m outta here.

Calamity: Zzzz…wait don’t go…zzzz…

Quinn: *slides in*

Gumby: POOOOOKEEEEEEY!!!!

Quinn: *slides out*

Quinn: Phew, glad I got out of that nuthouse!

Katana’s Ghost: Would now be a bad time to reappear?

Cal tries to salvage things by making breakfast, but she’s still a grieving mess who can’t handle menial tasks.

Calamity: Pokey liked waffles…

Uh no, Pokey hated everything. Get the fuck over it.

On the bright side, Omen manages to re-summon Quinn later for chess purposes.

Omen: How could you stay here last night and not challenge me to a single game? That hurts, man.

Quinn: I’m sorry. I guess I was just trying to put off our last match as long as possible.

Omen: Aw, you think I’m going to win?

Alas, this one ends like all their others – Omen runs away crying, Quinn becomes one with the chess table for seven hours, and I sit here immortalizing the sunset instead of doing anything to help.

So as you can see, things are going well.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sorry for another scraggly chapter with zero plot progression! An equally scraggly part of me is still hoping I can churn out another before midnight… Between quidditch practice, last-minute fabric shopping, working on costumes, and carving a Trumpkin, it’s probably a stretch. But with the power of All Hallow’s Eve, anything is possible!

Happy Hallowe’en to those who celebrate, and Happy Simming!

-Sam