I, Sim My name is Errol Waring. I am not a handsome guy. I might even be ugly. Depends on who you ask. My last girlfriend, for instance, will be pleased to list my worst features in sharp detail. My mother, on the other hand, had many good things to say about my face. But that was quite a few years ago, and if she were alive today, well, who knows. All this is to say, I couldn't very well complain about the condition of the house. We were well suited to each other, me and that house. I complained anyway, because as humble as it was, it took every wretched simoleon I had to my name (a small account set aside for me by my mother,) leaving me with nothing for even the most basic of repairs. The agent just shrugged at my noise. What did I expect? Real estate values are out of sight. Where've I been? Where have I been? I didn't tell him. But would you look at this house! Its hard to tell what happened to the front of it. Right up through the middle the shingles are off, exposing concrete block. Unusual construction, I think, but say nothing. One of the first floor windows is gone, filled in with concrete blocks which did not stop a tree from growing right through the wall into the living room. The tree is dead now. The agent pointed out that city code required the seller to replace the stairs because they were dangerous. He also replaced the toilet and the stove. The city inspectors had apparently said nothing about the floors. The agent suggested I be careful where I put my feet. The warning wasn't necessary. I could smell the basement and all the creepy crawlies that lived down there as soon as I stepped in the front door. The stench oozed up through the cracks in the boards. The agent wrinkled his nose, handed me the keys, and left. OK, House, introduce yourself. I pulled out my little camera and took a handful of pictures. Pay attention, House, I said out loud. As soon as I can earn some cash, things are going to change for you and for me. The house creaked. La cucaracha and his mates down below rustled.
Sorry, folks. I just couldn't stand it, not having a story. This is a new city and a new start for me. And I need to buy groceries and get some furniture. So I'm forced into the unfamiliar position of hunting for a job. Not that I'm lazy. Don't get me wrong. Earning the bread to pay the bills is one of those unfortunate circumstances of life that I've done before, but not recently, because you don't have to worry about the grocery bill when you're in the pokey. So maybe you didnt know that because you havent been there. Lucky you. What was I doing there? A few years for breaking and entering. Jewels. Easy to pocket and trade. Not any more! I'm going straight. Like an arrow. Jail cells are crowded, miserable, uncomfortable, foul smelling and hard on my bones. I think I might have caught a touch of arthritis. Disagreements with my cell mates didn't help the state of my face any, either. Sorry, Mom. The camera, the clothes on my back, this ugly house and my own ugly face are my whole world now. Well, I do have one friend. He gave me the camera. Congratulations on getting parole, he said. The camera's not hot, he insisted. You won't get busted for it. Well thanks, Buddy, I said. I decided to keep the camera locked up anyway. Why take chances? Whos that freak in the mirror? Oh, yeah, its me. Maybe some breakfast would help. This morning its going to have to be a can of warm soda loaded with caffeine. Im not ready to open that refrigerator door. Im thinking some of the smell around here isnt all from the basement. I went for the first job listed in the paper--test subject. Youre hired, they said after I signed a form. I stand in a wind tunnel. Easy cash. And they paid me at the end of the day. It was a good feeling. I bought groceries that didnt require refrigeration. When I got home later some neighbors banged on my door and introduced themselves. They seemed to expect to be fed so I gave them tuna fish sandwiches. I told a few jokes then said nice to meet you, its late, Im tired, goodbye. I was feeling sort of lonely, but this group was just annoying. Maybe Id meet someone interesting downtown. So what do you think, House? Youve been here a long time. Notice anyone youd like to have under your roof? The House groaned as I left for the city.
Grrr. We both produce sim stories on the same day, and yours is so totally better than mine. It's so deep. I love it.
No, it absolutely is not better than yours. They're just totally different. I'm not even sure where mine is headed yet. It could crash and burn in 4 chapters.
Hey, I'd date him. Great story. I absolutely love it. I saw that you'd posted last night but was tired and didn't read it. I'm supposed to be working right now, but had to take a break and read your story. I'm glad I did. Please, more! More! And, I want that house for my sims. Did you create it yourself or just remodel it? It looks so real ...
Thanks so much, everyone. The whole time at work today while I was doing menial data entry I was thinking about my little sim Errol Waring and my plans for him. There are more than bugs in his basement, as you've probably guessed, and it's not a vampire or zombie. Chapters are on the way--Wednesday, I hope, in between housecleaning and a little more Christmas shopping. Oh and by the way, SBW, it's one of the houses in the house bin with NL. Except I made it a mess using wall coverings provided with the EPs. Mostly Uni, I think, but I'm not positive about that.
Her name is Katelyn Cox. And she is one fine-looking chick. She speaks my language and that aint the language of angels. Call me Kate, she said. Oh, you gorgeous creature, I want to call you Mine. Her hair is red, her skin is the color of hot coffee and her eyesnow her eyes are what leave me deaf and dumb. I look into her eyes and I forget my name and the whole rest of the world. I took her on a couple of dates to the diner. I splurged on pork chops for us. A little smooching in the car. Shes interested. I can tell. I dont want to lose this woman. Listen to me, House, we gotta clean up around here. No bugs, understand? A knockout chick like Kate wont go for the bugs. Blast, I cant find the stairs to the basement. I know its down there. I can smell it. I can hear it. Someone must have bricked up the door in one of these walls. OK, House, I swear on my mothers urn that if one single crawlie shows its buggy face to my date Ill burn you to the ground. Got that? 100 simoleons to paint the kitchen. And another 300 give or take a few to put in a couple of cabinets. Not bad. Still need to replace that refrigerator but I havent quite got enough moleons yet. I decide that whatevers living in that fridge cant be worse than the creeps I met in the lockup. So I open it up and scrub the thing out. You dont want to hear about what I found inside. Lets just say that wars were fought and lost within those metal walls and no one had come back for the bodies. I aired it out afterwards for a few days then hit the switch. Well, Ill be a simians uncle! It worked. Finally, a new bed! I needed a bed with more room on it, enough for two people. Some blinds in the windows. Looking better in here already. Wonder what Kate will think of me when she sees the place. Will she like us, House? The house sneezed. Someones in the house, is my first thought. I ran around in a rage, looking everywhere. Well, except for the basement because it's blocked off. I figured that if I couldnt get there, neither could anyone else. I found a few dead crawlies--glad to see the exterminator had earned his fee--and no one else. Must have been someone passing by outside. I called Kate to ask her over for dinner.
We were ready, me and the house, when she arrived. I’d cooked spaghetti for us and I'd put candles and flowers on the table. We talked about all sorts of stuff and got on real well. I flirted with her, got the signals I was hoping for and when I wrapped my arms around her for some serious kissing she didn’t push me off. In fact, she warmed up real nice. So I showed her around the house. Workers make a mess, don‘t they, she said. Get them to clean up after they finish the floor, she added, pointing. I looked down and saw footprints. Bigger than my big feet. Hmmm. I’d done all the repairs myself so far. This is real bad, I thought. My house has been invaded. But I shrugged for Kate’s benefit and took her hand to show her around. We ended up in the bedroom. I relaxed on the bed. She straightened the covers and lay down next to me. The next hour or so is none of your business. Over breakfast the next morning she told me she’d had a strange dream. A tin man, she said. What? I joked. Hope you weren’t thinking of me! No, Baby, she said, I wasn’t. But I’ve never had a dream like that before. He clanked. He walked around the room. Looked out the window. He left. He clanked down the stairs. All that wine with dinner, I guess. Anyway, I’ve got to get out of here and get to work. What kind of work is that? I’m a police lieutenant, she said, then grinned at the look on my face. Close your mouth, Lover, she said, so I can kiss you. Don’t fret. I know your history, talked to your parole officer. See you later. I watched her out the door then sat down at the table and stared at the flies attacking last night’s spaghetti on the kitchen counter. Whoa, House. We’ve both been invaded.
I can't say enough good things about this story. I love your turns of phrase, the spareness of the writing, the whole voice of the character. Wow, Lynet. My favorite line to date: "Not the language of angels ... " Made me laugh out loud. You go, girl.
Thanks, friends. I want so much to do more now but I've got to go out into the traffic and get my husband's Christmas present. Late as always!
My parents never get each other presents, and I only get a present for my sister because she gets one for me. I'm cheap, yes. Oh, yeah, almost forgot: I love your story! I hope you know by now that I'll always love your stories and I don't have to post it.
