There’s a peculiar frame of mind I need to be in to write these chapters. Considering I just tried to drink a burning candle, mistaking it for tea, I think I’m good to go.
Last time, the Gen. 3 kids came back from university to a laggy, snow-covered Sunset Valley. Our unicorn was tragically stolen by Joanna Rodgers, curse her name. Lance and Tommy made their escape from the household, and the screwball Dax French was caught up in our web forever.
In case you missed my shameless filler post, the Langurds moved camp! I packed up the main household, Tomahawk & Gabby, Lance & Eddy, and my simself, who—go figure—happened to be living with Weston Jolina-Sekemoto, so he came along, too. Everyone else is lost to the abyss.
So here we are in Riverview, ready to start the next generation at last. THANK GOD.
Well, howdy! With my second year of university well and truly over and another summer upon me (even if the SNOW on Sunday was trying to tell me otherwise) I decided it was about time to get back on this legacy thing. If I had a quarter every time I wrote those words…
Anywho, I figured out that, if I keep going at this rate, it’s going to take me at least a decade to get through this thing — and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to bring that figure down a bit. Who knows, I might not be this charmingly witty when I’m thirty.
So it’s time to down some caffeine, put on my funny cap, and fly off into the sunset blast through the rest of these chapters so we can get to that long-awaited heir poll!
Must I recap what happened last time? I dunno, I sort of forget and I’m too lazy to open a browser and find out. I think there were some glitches and some birthdays, and some guy called Smewl made an appearance. Sounds about right!
Life around town continued in much the same disconcerting fashion. Here we see the do-good kids of Sunset Valley following the Golden Rule: Never leave the house unless accompanied by at least two people sharing your lineage, regardless of whether you know them or not. Oh, and a paparazzi lady who used to stalk your father makes an ideal chaperone.
Dorothy: Now, children, we’d best be getting you home.
Razor: Not today, lady. I fly in the face of sketchy authority. I will sit here and finish this polynomials worksheet. You cannot stop me.
Marjorie: Well, let’s see. According to my calculations, it would seem that the ladybug count in this hedge is— ah yes, too damn high!
Zachary: Jeez, what happened? My head hurts and I have no idea how I got here…
I worry sometimes about the youth of today.