The Tangelled Web Sarah Oh dear, but I find it tiring. Sometimes I just wish I could live on my own and not have the stress of the daily grind. Three grand daughters! A grandson or two would have been good, oh Mistress of Fate. Oh what’s the use of begging a goddess who obeys no sim? Trouble is I have this fantasy in my mind of grandsons paying respects and … homage … (yeah I am not proud, homage would be nice). I could cope with some homage. But grand daughters are a constant worry. I took a walk over to Long Avenue yesterday. I only went for a nose around. The new houses up there went up so fast. Or maybe it’s just me losing track of time. By the time I dragged myself up that hill to the corner I was pooped, so I was standing pretending to rub my knee while I waited for my pulse to come down out of three figures (it felt more like four, but whatever. It was way too fast for my liking.) Anyway the new owner pulled up in a VW Beetle, done up like that car from the movies. He jumped out and introduced himself as Darrick Pickering and promptly dragged me inside for a coffee and to meet his wife, Moselle. The house is quite neat, but it seemed a bit cramped. Then I found out they have four kids. Eek! I thought three was bad enough; me, I stopped at one. The Pickerings are good company and they seem quite relaxed. He works for a video game company. Apparently they’re working a simulation game called The Hums; he says it’ll be mega. Me, I didn’t understand a word of it, but he made it sound good. Left to right: Lucien, Darrick, Sparkle, Me, Nisely, Moselle Some of their neighbours dropped by around noon and what a shock I got. The first “couple” was an oddity of a green-skinned man who was accompanied by a mech with a pink ribbon on its antenna. His name is Nisely — didn’t give me a first name, maybe they don't have first names where he comes from, wherever that is — and the bot’s name is Sparkle; Sparkle Nisely! Can you believe it? I wondered if I should mention our own bot, Marvin, but there was something about the way that Nisely kept looking at his machine that gave me the creeps. I decided to keep my counsel. The third member of the welcome wagon was a quiet fellow called Lucien Maugham, who I thought looked very fit and … ooh, if I were twenty years younger …. I was thinking that I ought to get back home when Moselle produced a big tray of toasted cheese. I have to say they were very good toasties. I polished off two, just to be neighbourly. I’d never thought of making them with sliced pickles before. It’s true what they say that you’re never too old to learn.
The Tangelled Web Sunday Left to right: Chloe, Edith, Polly “Well are going to do something, or what?” “What.” “Polly Tangell, you drive me crazy. Just shut up if you can’t think of anything sensible to say.” “Shut up yourself, Chloe-Woe-ee.” “I wanna go skating,” Edith said around a mouthful of omelette. “Me too!” Sarah chipped in from her usual station at the sink. “You can’t skate, Grandma!” Edith chortled. “Can she?” “Better than you, pip squeak, and Polly, would you mind telling me what you’ve done to yourself. You look … all loved-up.” “I am.” “Yes?” “Oh it’s just some stuff I got from that old gypsy who hangs around.” Polly dropped her voice to hoarse whisper and leaned over her eggy plate. “It drives the boys wild.” “Oh, is that what you used on Kory?” “Not forgiven me for that, yet, have you? Nope I didn’t need it for him. ‘Twould have been a waste anyway. He’s such a plonker.” “Did someone mention skating?” Rhianna appeared in the doorway. “Yes, dear, but don’t interrupt. They’re talking about boys and I’m not half as deaf as they think I am.” Sarah said. “What’s that, Grandma?” Polly said. “She said you and Chloe were talking about boys and that she not half as deaf as you think she is.” “Yes, thank you very much, Edith. That’s way too much information.” Polly’s face had flushed a bright pink. “Look, are we going skating?” Chloe demanded. “Yes. I’ll go book a taxi.” “Can Rocco, come with us? Ouch.” Polly had kicked her shin under the table. “What was that for?” “Ask him if his brother wants to come too.” “Herne? He’s too old for you.” “Tis not.” “Tis, too!” “Stop it you two.” Rhianna interrupted deftly. “Ask them both and we can let him make up his own mind.” She picked up Polly’s empty plate and sniffed. “What on earth is that scent you’re wearing?” “Don’t ask, Mum,” Polly said, flashing a warning glance at her baby sister who was on the verge of exploding with a graphic answer. She pushed her chair back. “I’ll just see if they both want to come, then. What time shall I tell them?”
Community Chest Penn Vale Community Centre “Look at her.” Sarah said to her daughter as they leaned on the rail around the ice. “Poor Polly is such a romantic but she’s got so much to learn.” “I know, I know. Trouble is, you can’t learn their lessons for them. Some things are only learnable the hard way; the same way we learned.” “Yep, but it’s painful to watch, isn’t it?” “You go and bowl a few frames if you want, Mum. I want to stay and keep an eye on her. She’s so young, I don’t want to see her get hurt, but I need to feel that I am here for her, if she needs me.” “You’re worried about that Centowski boy, aren’t you?” “Am I that transparent?” Rhianna grinned ruefully. “Yeah, he’s been watching them for ages and he’s just stewing himself into a mood. Talk about wearing your heart on your sleeve.” “Surely he doesn’t think that Polly belongs to him.” Sarah said after a long pause. “You still here? I thought you’d gone.” Rhianna was half lost in reverie. “Well they were pretty sweet together through most of last semester …. But you know Polly. She’s a butterfly … wants a taste from every flower— Sarah snorted at the image of Orlando Centowski as a flower. “—but there’s no malice in her. She's just not ready to settle down. She can’t help being a flirt any more than Chloe can help being so serious.” “Hmph. She could help by toning down the make up a bit! There’s too much of her father in her genes.” Together they watched while Polly chatted and batted her eyes at a spellbound Herne Antrobus, oblivious to the presence of her erstwhile “steady” behind her. Eventually Centowski reached a full head of steam and he marched across the room and pushed between the love-sick pair and — as mother and grandmother held their breath — angry words were exchanged and no more. It did not come to blows. If anything Centowski came up with the short change. The row terminated abruptly with Centowski’s face crumpling in despair and sadness; evidently Polly had told him they were through, finished, over. “Ah, the pains of first loves, eh?” “Pfah! I’m too old to remember.” “Look, we’re just getting cold standing here. Let’s go get a coffee and then see if we can get a bowling team together. Maybe we can get the kids off the ice and show them some real moves.”
WowieZowie.... that's my daughter's name. Do you pronounce it with the z or s sound? we chose s, thus avoiding the pun MadamMozelle sorry I know this is way off topic...... and it's such a lovely story, dear.
It's fun. I like Sarah's perspective. Must be my age. And LOL at her take on Sparkle Nisely (love the name) and friend.
LOL I knew when I chose it that there was a Moselle floating around here at World Sims but couldn't quite recall where. I got the name (and spelling) from my big list. I actually printed off several hundred random names from a name generator site I found. Given names plus surnames. Some of them are doozies. I try to pick the surnames randomly and then be a little more selective with the given name. Sparkle didn't exist, even as an idea in my head, when I chose Nisely as the family name for the alien. But when he activated his servo I looked in the list of female names and Sparkle hit me in the eye. So apt. PS I just noticed I spelled it Moselle (like the German river ... and wine :drunk: ) in the story. In the neighborhood it's actually spelt Mozelle ... sheesh.
The Journal of Brighton Mayes I dont know about anyone else, but for me, the last month of winter is always 30 days too long. Maybe its just ennui. The first snow was fun I hope I never grow out of playing like a demented puppy in the first snow of the season but in the end snow is a nuisance. For school kids, snow days are special, but try telling your boss you wont be in today because it snowed overnight! At the end, winter is a farce. Neither freezing nor clement enough to leave off coats and scarves and nothing will grow and yeah, I dont like winter much. Of course I had more reason to be impatient for its end this year. My beloved Ash and I had set our wedding day for the first Sunday of the spring. We both decided on a small and relatively simple ceremony. The great thing about this country is that we can perform our own ceremony and need only the signatures of four witnesses on the documentation for the registry authorities. That was how we ended up with Benjamin Long and Marisa Bendett as two of our guests. I guess we should have gotten out more, we dont know many people here; well not well enough. We also invited Pete Ottomas and his mother. We got everything organised in good time. Ash, hired some disco equipment (we were told that Benj is a pretty good DJ) and some tables and chairs, while I practised decorating a cheap pergola with wilty flowers I got free from the Blooming Corner. I wanted to make sure we got wed under an awesome floral bower and I didnt want to practise with the good flowers on the day. Mr Vorderman, the florist, offered me a good price on a wedding arch decoration, but I explained that I wanted to do it myself, not to save money, but for the pride-value. Hes a nice man, because he said he understood perfectly and promised me all the leftover and damaged blooms during the last couple of months so I could practise my flower arranging.. So what happens? You makes your plans and the cruel goddess spits in your eye. Petes mother passed away unexpectedly the weekend before the wedding. We both felt sorry for the Ottomas family, but also for ourselves, because, suddenly, we were short of witnesses. We didnt really expect Pete to be able to make it, but he not only insisted, he also suggested a substitute. He introduced her to us at the funeral, which was on the Wednesday following. Meena Lagerfield lives the other side of the church on Pennfield Road (theres a quite a few houses along that way now!). Shes an immigrant like me. Her husband is a photographer and works weekends, but she promised that he would get away for an hour to take some photographs of the wedding. She is very shy, but I shall look forward to getting to know her. We foreign aliens must stick together. The big day finally arrived and, to my relief, the weather was perfect. It had rained all week, but had stopped on Friday night and Ashs I mean our back lawn had dried out pretty well. By mid morning we were putting plan B into effect, dragging the pergola outside and setting out the chairs and the buffet and the cake. I dont know about his pies (yet) but that Swami chap makes a stunning wedding cake. The guests arrived, on time, at 11am and we got straight to business. Our vows were simple and beautiful. I record them here, although I will never need a reminder. Ash: Brighton, I desire with all my heart to stay at your side for all time. I will remain faithful and loving and respectful and honest towards you and all that I possess is at your disposal. When you are sad I will comfort you, when you are sick I will care for you, when you are weary I will serve you. Me: Ash, I promise that I will love you and remain true to you and you alone until our lives end. Let those present here today, record that I take you as my husband and partner in life, and that I vow to share my life with you, to share your joy in success and to soothe your pain when troubles come: to be your wife. Well, were neither of us poets. At least it wasnt too soppy, sloppy. We swapped ring and then swapped some spit and then did a quick twirl around the garden while our horde of guests applauded in celebration of our union. No honestly, it was really romantic. Then Benj got his turntables spinning and we all had a really good dance until we were all breathless and sweaty. Even Benj Ive seen such an energetic disc-spinner, and he looks so straight-laced and stern whenever Ive seen him around. Oh well, I guess you cant judge folks by appearance. It really was the most fabulous day, and just when I thought it was over, Ash sprang a surprise on me. Hed booked a limo to whisk us off to the Capital Hotel, in Pennfield City, for a short, but unforgettable honeymoon. Well that was a week ago and it looks like we were just in time. This afternoon I was getting changed to go out for dinner at the Vales new restaurant, The Frying Fish its run by a busy little firebrand of a Japanese lady, and Ash and I were laughing about the innumerable possibilities concerning that choice of name when he suddenly stopped laughing and pointed at my belly. Youre showing, was all he said, half wonderingly. It was true. Id been noticing, in the shower, mostly, the slightness of a bulge growing more and more noticeable over the last few weeks, but until now it hadnt shown much when I had my clothes on. I hadnt realised until then how much difference there is between men and women. Poo! That sounds dumb, doesnt it? What I mean is that Ive known Im pregnant since, well, since before I knew. I cant say which day it was, because I didnt think to record it, stupidly enough, but I remember suddenly having this feeling that I was carrying; and that was a clear two weeks before the official signs and symptoms made themselves clear. But until now, all Ash had, was my word for it. OK its a nutty point to make, but hey, Ill say what I want to my diary. We didnt bother going out for dinner. Ash insisted that I should put my feet up and treat myself. I said I really fancied macaroni and cheese so he made some for me. It was just what I craved and they say that expectant mothers should give in to their cravings. I am happy to obey all sensible advice. Later on I started to crave some more personal attention; Im happy to report that my dutiful and faithful hubby was quite keen to oblige .
And Penn Vale grows. Nice wedding. And I especially like the last picture. Those two are cute. I wonder whose nose the baby will get.
Antrobus Omnibus Man! Herne dumped another armful of wilted tomato vines into the compost. His shirt was stuck to his back, and he itched all over from the dust and sweat that pooled and dribbled into every crease. Overhead, the late September sun dominated a hazy metallic sky, which threatened thunderheads, so far without, seemingly, any inclination to follow up on the threat. The seventeen year old swept his forehead with a gritty forearm and glanced skyward, irritably. Hey! How about some rain? His tone was less challenging than petulant. Aw, stop complaining. Its your fault were grounded anyway. My fault? It wasnt me that got busted. Oh, and that cop who brought you home in his car was just a figment of my imagination, then, eh. I had that under total control. I had that cop eating outa my hand. He was all set to just drop me off quietly and let me go with just a warning. The rents would never have known. Yeah? Thats easy for you to say. Well, well never know, seeing as you were dumb enough to try breaking back in through the garage door. I mean . What were you thinking? At least I got back home without getting collared by the cops. Hardly counts if you set off the frisking alarm when you do, jerk! I was explaining my way out of that when you turned up in a squad car! They stared at each other angrily for a few moments. Then Herne smiled at his brother. But moms face was priceless, though, eh? Roccos face softened into a sly grin and then he bent a little at the knees and brought his hands up close to his chin, hunched his shoulders and pulled a grotesque face of self-pity. Oh, yes, officer, no officer, Im so sorry, officer, his voice a cracked falsetto. Together they fell about laughing.
The Tangelled Web Sarah I’m getting really worried about Rhianna. She’s taken on far too much with her job at the health centre as well running a busy toy shop. I’ve done what I can to help by keeping an eye on things at The Toy Box, but that Indian woman and I don’t get on well together. I find I disagree with almost every decision she makes. I went in the other day and she had the village idiot, Goopy, out front pitching sales to passers-by! Good-goddess! The fool was frightening more people away than he managed to press-gang inside. Meanwhile she had appointed herself in charge of the stockroom. I was probably a little short with her in explaining that Rhianna would not be pleased to find that staff had been reassigned behind her back. She did not speak to me for the rest of the day. At least I didn’t have to listen to her prattling away about her precious husband’s way of running a cake shop. Maxoids, you’d think he was some kind of Escoffier to hear her talk. At least The Toy Box is winning awards. I saw that reporter fellow hanging around again this morning. The shop was packed out and the till was ringing like a door bell. Goopy was run of his feet trying to keep the shelves filled so I was helping out. But that reporter looked very content when he left. He also bought one of our kites. I hope I don’t miss seeing a review in the paper. These days, I have to be quick to grab it before Marvin shreds it into his precious compost. I swear that heap of tin and transistors is more trouble than it’s worth. While I am still on The Toy Box, we’ve sold a lot of Whirl-E-Wettoes this month. They’ve been very popular this summer; and profitable too, since I persuaded Rhianna to jack up the price to ouch level. If this heat wave continues we’ll need to hire in another toy maker. But back to Rhianna. She has been staying up all night and skipping a lot of work these last few weeks. When she does bother to go in she comes home looking so pale and sick I really feared for her. I’ve lectured her and nagged her, but to no avail. She just pushes me away, snappishly, saying really odd and stupid things like: “you know how I hate the summer”, and “you know I don’t like it when it’s so bright”. I’m sure she’s sickening for something but darn it, she’s the one who’s supposed to be the MD. The trouble is I have the vaguest sort of feeling that I have seen her illness before. But every time I think I’m about to settle on it it flits away. It’s infuriating, like trying to catch a butterfly with one hand tied behind your back. It’s kind of corny but I even pulled the old physician heal thyself thing on her. You know what? She sneered at me. Actually she sort of went: “blergh”, right in my face and for a second I thought she was going to bite me. I shut my eyes tight for a second, half-scared of my own daughter, but when I opened them again she’d gone. I found out a minute or so later that she had locked herself in the cellar … again. My little granddaughter blossomed into proto-womanhood this summer. Edith suddenly filled out and shot up about five inches without anyone noticing. It’s really quite unsettling the way kids seem to do that. She’s really quite pretty, though I know I’m supposed to say that. Along the way she adopted a sort of quasi-goth look and is attracting all sorts of attention much to the disgust of her elder sisters. Maybe, with Chloe heading off to University this autumn, Polly will mature a bit when she finds herself suddenly in the big sister role. Somehow I can’t see it happening, but I must try to be positive, and, besides, an old woman is entitled to hope. There’s an old woman — even older than me — who wanders around the square a lot. I think I’ll ask her if she knows about herbs. I feel sure a good tonic will sort out Rhianna ….
Have I said yet how much I'm loving this story? Sorry if I haven't commented yet. I love Herne and Rocco. Also, I just KNEW there'd be a vampire popping up sooner or later.
The Tangelled Web Rhianna Oh mercy! I’m in trouble. I’m pretty sure that Mum knows what’s up with me, and now I have to make some hard decisions. Mirelly alone knows what I should do. The biggest problem is that I like my new condition, in spite of the inconveniences; well that and the fact that I cannot set aside the overwhelming compulsion to spread my ‘gift’ around. I nearly bit Mum the other day. She was nagging me so much, right in my face she was, and for a second — I swear it was just a second — I almost did give her a nip on her lovely neck. But she had closed her eyes and that stopped me long enough to know that she might not forgive me. Marvin knows. I don’t know what possessed me to install an empathy chip … talk about a chip off the old block. He made it perfectly clear that he wanted me to infect him as well. I told him it was impossible and for a while I thought he was going to throw a tantrum. I had to ask him how he imagined he would recharge. Ha! Brain the size of a planet, and all the sense of a lightning bug. The real problem I have is that I am going to miss a lot of my daughters’ lives, if I don’t watch out. I also like being the Vale’s GP and The Toy Box is going great, rated with 9 stars at the PVCoC. Life would have been so much simpler if I hadn’t met K______ at all. I mean, he’s such an odious little creep, I can’t imagine what possessed me to seduce him … except that of course I do. It was he who seduced me the rat-fink. Or maybe that should be bat-fink. It would certainly stir things up around here if it got out that there’s a Grand Vampire on the loose. I know that He is looking for another to convert. I’ve spurned his offer of eternal, infernal matrimony at His side. He is way too creepy, even without being a vamp. Oh! What can I do, though? I can’t keep going at work. House calls are sheer torture; an ecstasy of agony. I even toyed with buying a delivery van so I could fix up some sort of rejuvenation contraption in the back, so I could bring myself back from the brink if I got too much sun. As it is, my practice is suffering, big time. I am barely managing to make it to work more than twice a week. And when I do get in I am scaring the patients as often as fixing them up. The other day I smiled at cute little Teagan Coyne — who’d popped in for her pre-teen rubella shot — and she fainted dead away … and that was before I got the syringe out of the drawer. Why does life have to be so complicated?
LOVE it, Mirelly! It just keeps getting better! I laughed out loud at the thought of a manically depressed robot vampire! THAT would shake things up a bit!!!
LOL, Sacha. I wasn't even sure if robots could be vampires. Rhia was on the verge of having a go when I thought: "hang on a tic ... how the heck is the bot gonna recharge?" I've gotten quite attached to Marvin. Until now I never really had much use for servos, but he's getting to me. He doesn't feature enough in the story, but I'm sure that he will come into his own ... eventually.
I have a coffin which my non-vampire robots use to recharge. Works great, and I don't think it's because of any hack. Everybody in the household, in fact, wants to use the coffin, so I have to keep the door locked all the time unless sending a robot in to recharge. So I think Marvin can be a vampire. It's easy enough to check the coffin recharge effect. Chee-Z's robot Bender was a vampire. Very funny to see a robot with fangs. Are you around today, Chee-Z? Am I right?
The Ash Mallory Blog Why do things always decide to happen in the wrong wretched order? With our little one expected toward the end of the first week of autumn, I have been saving up my vacation time, so I could be home with Brighton when the baby decides to grace Penn Vale with his or her presence. But the music industry is no respecter of a sim-wombs schedule and it has to be admitted that a baby cares nothing at all for the demands of the music industry. Suffice it to say that on my first night off the phone rang to tell me that the lead guitarist of Zed Leper Lyn had broken his strumming thumb and the studio urgently needed someone to play in his place at the final recording session for the bands new album, Sultanas Offswing. Naturally I shouted and swore and refused. I tartly suggested they let the girl, who does the photocopying in the office, stand in, because everyone knows that Bijou Strongarm only knows three chords and he only made up two of those to widen his repertoire. What can I say? They persuaded me. Hey, Im as persuadable as anyone else if the persuasion has enough zeroes. I kissed Brighton on her luscious lips and promised to be back in time for Ironsides (isnt that a hoot? We both found out that we loved that show first time around before we knew each other then we found it being re-run on an obscure cable channel.) In spite of trying to be cheerful, I set off for the studio in a less than convivial mood. I remember that the sky looked back at me in matching tones of sombre grey. I scowled at it and then swore at the car because the air-con had broken again and it was 35 Celsius and barbarically humid and the radio was receiving nothing but Thunder Squelch FM. If there was a bright spot in all of this, it was not easy to find, but it did look as if the Vale would escape the storm. The further I drove the brighter my rear view mirrors image became in contrast to the vision I saw revealed ahead. That thought, minor and insignificant-seeming, was all the comfort I had as I headed down the Pennfield Road toward the studio. As soon as I crested the ridge, I saw that Pennfield proper was entombed in a heavy grey fug of humid, stormy air. Just before I turned into the studio parking lot, my last thought was that, at least Brighton wouldnt be sat at home needing the lights on. It was good thought to have because it reminded to turn off my car headlights which was a Very Good Thing as it turned out. I was relieved to see that the legendary Martin George was in charge when I got to the studio. As a producer, he takes no nonsense. He let me know that he intended us to be done quickly, because he had a party to get to; yeah, right on Marty, a party with one count her guest. I wasnt complaining and had no intention of starting. I did not comment when I saw him unplug the leads from the drummers cubicle and replace them with a percussion sequencer. ZLLs bassist is actually very good when he hasnt spent too long on the bubble blower; we were in luck. Suddenly it was all going too well. Wed just run through a first practise take when my mobile phone did its vibratey thing in my back pocket. I hate it when that happens. It always makes me leap half out of my skin. It was Brighton. It was urgent. We were having our baby. Marty, the old dog, just sighed and said that hed recorded my rehearsal feed, anyway, and that after hed de-tuned it a bit and digitally broken the rhythm about, no one would be able to tell that it was my playing rather than Strongarms, and to get the hell out and to be in place to catch Mallory minor before he/she hit the carpet. OK, hes crude, but he has a heart of solid bling. Id been told to git, so I got. If the rain was lashing down in sheets then those sheets were quilted with ponds. I got as wet crossing the car park a mere 20 yards as I wouldve got falling into a lake. The car windows steamed up as soon as I closed the car door, but at least the engine started first time. It was the longest ten mile drive of my life.
