Building from the Breadlines, Rotation 1 (Mayfield)
Rotation 1, Mayfair family - Autumn.
The first day or two in the house, Barbara noted, was without much excitement, but it was such a refreshing change, not having to worry about losing her electricity access, nor having to concern herself with if the roof was properly patched up from last time, and having food. This was the most amazing part, but she knew that when the food in the fridge was lost, she and her daughter would have to survive on what they caught or grew. Hopefully, added Barbara to her long line of mental rhetoric, she would be able to be self sufficient by then. It wasn’t as if self-sufficiency wasn’t something the woman was incapable of doing, considering she had survived on her own most of her life - her husband left her a long time ago, and society didn’t want to be in a relationship with an older, single mother. Her looks were leaving her, and her money was little.
When the stock markets came around, and the paying on the margin issue came to light, she jumped on the chance - who could have predicted it would have ended up like this? But the money she had once had was high, and she had put it away in savings for her daughter’s university fund, but by the time her daughter was old enough, the economy was collapsing and the money she had was worth nothing. She was told to pay back the margin loan she had taken out, but had no money to pay it back with. The bank repossessed her meagre home, and robbed the two of everything they had but the clothes on their backs.
She and Olivette had found the Hooverville by now, but unfortunately with Barbara - Babs, to anyone she didn’t dislike - and her advancing age, the harsh winters set in and froze the old girl’s bones, at least, that was what she thought. She wasn’t a nurse, she had worked as a showgirl to make ends meet. She never had the money nor the time to study for a nursing degree until it came to the mid and late 20s, and by then she had already gotten comfortable in her job, so why move? It was all she knew. It was a poor choice, in retrospect, but what could Barbara do? She was already rather old by the time of such excess, in her mid 40s. She had thankfully grasped onto youth doggedly until her 50th birthday, in which she had aged seemingly over night.
Her daughter was out working too, and followed in her mother’s footsteps, taking a job as a comedienne in a smoky lounge bar, sometimes with a few singing acts. Babs was Olivette’s biggest fan, and Olivette swore that if she ever won a Simmy award, she would dedicate it in it’s entirety to her mother, who had taught her all she needed to know about controlling the audience, and taking them where you wanted to go. Barbara Mayfield, by all accounts, was a master of the stage.
The first day was spent primarily practicing skills and meeting friends in the hopes of quick progression in Olivette’s soon to have job. Barbara’s joints were giving her trouble, recently, so she was unable to work, however she took charge of the gardening duties and looked after the plants and caught fish to stock up for when the family ran out of the fridge-provided food. Olivette had taken to an Arts and Crafts centred hobby, and thankfully Barbara found a lot of pleasure in gardening. She had lived in apartments all her life, so having a house with land was a very welcome change. A bit of gardening never hurt anyone, surmised the older woman, quite content at this time, if feeling a little melancholically reminiscent.
Jobs were scarce, but Olivette was surprised to find that it seemed that people still wanted to laugh. The Dionysis Variety Theatre in town seemed to be hiring people for the entertainment industry. She was thankful that the only job she could get was in this career - she had already done it before, so she was certain that she would progress with ease. Or at least know what the hell she was doing and not have to relearn her skills in total.
When the welcome wagon arrived, there was but one member - a rather pretty woman by the name of Amelia Bishop. Noting that this challenge of the simself’s was based entirely on people from Hooverville, and also thinking that the only house in the neighbourhood not included in the challenge was the simself’s own, she cocked her head curiously.
“Are you another simself?”
“Oh, no. Born and raised right here in the game.” Amelia laughed.
“Oh, alright. You look far too well put together to be a townie, and there’s no premades around here… what are you?”
“I work for the simselves. I’m there predominantly to keep house while they go mess around with people’s lives. Someone needs to be there to make sure the toilet is flushed and the beds are made.” The red head smiles, “also I may or may not be this simself’s current in-game wife.” She laughed weakly. “He’s a bit of a tool but he means well.”
Olivette lifted an eyebrow. “Seems like you found yourself a good deal.”
“Can’t say I regret the decision. Anyway, I was sent over by the simselves to see how you were doing. They would hop over themselves, but they’re all busy with their own challenges and such, and I had some free time. Are things okay? Not got any problems?”
“None worth screaming about, I mean I suppose I could complain about the lack of playability in your husband's house, but I suppose that’s a bit ungrateful. It’s a little awkward with the stairs and a toilet downstairs, though, just saying. Hint hint nudge nudge.”
“In that case you may want to start earning some money.” Amelia chuckled. “He can’t get you a motherlode loan or anything, not in this challenge.”
”Yeah, unfortunately. The whole country could do with one of those!”
Amelia and Olivette got along well, agreeing a lot on each other’s points, and rather enjoying talking smack about the simself that had thrown the two women together. Several things such as being easily distracted by cats, falling asleep right after sex right through to the morning, and being able to burn water when it came to cooking in the kitchen.
“And I’m trusting this guy with our lives?” Olivette laughed.
“He’s better with sims than he is with sex, focus or cooking, if that helps any.” Amelia returned in like, feeling greatly entertained by the circumstances.
Unfortunately, Olivette needed to leave for work right after, so left Amelia to the whims of her mother. Hopefully Barbara would go easy on the girl. Olivette knew that her mother was certainly one hell of a character, and certainly even in her old age a woman you would want on your side. She played to win all the time, even if there was nothing to win.
Thankfully, Amelia and Barbara got on wonderfully, and by the end of the day they were Amy and Babs and no-one could tell them different. Olivette had always been Olive, anyway. They both seemed to agree on a lot of points, and while Olivette had no experience with men, Barbara and Amelia could both share horror stories of their own. It seemed incompetency of guys was rather a favourite topic between the two. Not to say that they loved or respected them any less, but more to suggest that they simply enjoyed joking about their own experiences. It seemed to make even the most embarrassing experiences bearable.
Amelia left, soon after, and when Amelia returned from work, they found her without promotion. She was confident next time she would progress, however. The morning after came about with Barbara in her underwear in the garden, weeding like there was no tomorrow. She would say she regretted not dressing before leaving, but she didn’t. It was rather nice not to have to bother to get changed in the morning, actually. No-one around her cared, so she felt she should take advantage of it.
Also, when people did care, she rather enjoyed watching them squirm uncomfortably. Was she evil? Probably. She loved it.
She did put her clothes on soon afterwards, and met a rather handsome fellow elder outside her home on the way to go fishing. A handshake and a smile was all the two needed. Jewell Franklin and her had at least, she thought, 2 bolts. Possibly 3, if he grew a beard.
Fishing together, it soon lead to flirting.
Meanwhile, Olivette busied herself with teaching a stray to sit up. She hoped that this would be enough to adopt the adorable thing, but the canine left before they could progress their relationship further, but at least she had taught it a trick. That was always good, she supposed.
Dogs were her weakness. They were simply the most adorable things, and she couldn’t help but want to adopt any dog that came by - even the bratty little ones.
With the final bowl of mac and cheese, the family’s fridge emptied. They were now dependent on what they grew and caught in the ways of food, but thankfully they had plenty enough to survive.
Upon the running out of food, Olivette decided she would further her knowledge of creativity in the hopes of being able to paint herself and her mother portraits, because why not? Portraits were always enjoyable, and she needed some project to busy herself with in her free time.
“Hey you’ve reached such a high level in the Nature hobby that we’ve chosen you to come join our secret Hobby clu- are you fishing in your underwear?”
“Are you green?” Barbara retorted.
The gardening Hobby club woman silenced herself, then gave Barbara the card and left. Barbara snickered a little as the green skinned woman disappeared into the the neighbouring lots.
On the same day, a very peculiarly dressed man came to Olivette and gave her a pass to an Arts and Crafts club. Not much was said, asides from a few clever quips at the man’s appearance, who looked well and truly offended and stomped away, steaming. Olivette, too, snickered at the man.
The apple truly didn’t fall too far from the tree.
Both Barbara and Olivette had progressed splendiferously in their chosen fields, and they could only hope for further good luck. Olivette had been faced with an awkward situation involving corn and angry audience members which she quickly managed to turn around into something vaguely entertaining. Due to her creativity on stage, it had lead to a rather lovely promotion.
She was also available to purchase a “money tree”. A statue that obviously represented today’s society, where there was so many notes, worthless as all hell, floating around that it seemed the money really did grow on trees. It was also helpful for an extra funds boost every once in a while if she just pinched a couple of notes here and there.
Feeling lonely, and not wishing for a Social Bunny visit, she found herself on the art lot, primarily speaking to a sparkling green man who she found both interesting and enthralling. She blamed the ears.
“Your ears are bigger than your head and shaped like troughs, you realise?”
“Yes. Yes I do. And they’re the most attractive ears in the town.” The atrociously evil warlock pouted and placed his arms on his hips. His ears wiggled rather comically to represent his anger, and Olivette found herself rather enjoying the display. With the sparkles and all, it was almost enchanting.
Asides from his title and his ears, Olivette found him a rather interesting conversation member, and spoke with him and played such games such as red hands and tickle right into the night… and following morning.
And she couldn’t deny that while she was a dog person, Luke’s cat was rather adorable. Even if it was surrounded by a ghastly shade of poisonous looking green.
It was an eclectic group of people there at the arts hobby club. Professors and warlocks and university students abound, Olivette found it rather uncomfortable. They all seemed to want to talk to her through bears, and when that failed gathered around her and often spoke of her as if she was not there. Even the warlock joined in, but she figured he was doing it just to spite her after she’d won that game of Mahjong.
To add further fuel to the fire, Dusty O’Mackey the Infallibly Good Witch showed up, and a slap fight to last the ages took up place.
Dusty O’Mackey was far from pleased.
In truth, Olivette also wanted to use their draft tables shamelessly, intending on planning several technical designs and selling them off. It would certainly assist with the family’s income. It seemed that the owner of the hobby club did not quite grasp being told to “get that teddy bear away from me or I swear to god this ruler will be impaled into your spleen and the damn thing will never reticulate again”.
When the stupidity and nonsensicality of the lot reached too much for her, she made her way home. It was almost as if she’d been thrown in an asylum! Slapfights, teddy bear conversations and ghostly cats socialising with heavy mustachioed white men with dreadlocks and poor fashion sense, drama professors and a cheerleader who probably bought a store’s worth of hairspray to get her hair to go how it was.
“Yeah. I’m finished here.”
She returned home to her mother having learnt far more about gardening, which she was infinitely grateful for. The better the garden produce, the better they ate. Simple as that.
She had also earned a promotion from a Birthday Party Mascot to a Mime, which in her opinion was a very, very good upgrade. She loved kids, but sometimes they grew to be a little too much.
Barbara also started a business - “Babs’s Food Market” - where she sold her fish and any grown produce she had, as well as boots. She was sure *someone* would want the things. Not her, but whatever. Maybe there was a shoeless size 11 out there desperate for some lovely waterlogged boots.
Business was pretty good, considering, and the uni students from the town over all seemed to like old Bab’s fish.
“Freshly caught, y’know.” Barbara added on as the girl came to the counter to pay.
“That’s the third time you’ve told me, ma’am. I know that they are freshly caught, yes. Thank you.”
“Come agai- OOF!” The cashier tray hit her squarely in the stomach, and Barbara cursed. Damned till. One day she’d work the thing out. One day.
At the store, Pony made an appearance, as the next person sent to check up on the sims by Thai.
“A business already! You’re doing really well, Babs. Can I call you Babs?”
“I’m okay with it.” Barbara laughed. “It’s good to be able to do something. I guess it’s a nice feeling to know that when I die, I can leave my daughter something more than a groady old brown stained bandana.” Barbara smiled wanly and Pony clapped her on the shoulder. The two talked rather avidly for a bit, and Pony bough a fish from Barbara and faded back into the Simself home.
While fishing for more stock, Barbara found herself becoming more knowledgeable on fishing, and aspired to reach the most knowledgeable level there was.
Barbara also took to the mirror for a make-over, feeling that since she was now in her own home, a business owner (regardless of the fact she could only buy a small lot of land due to stupid restrictions set by the current economic status, and the manipulation she was under from the mafia) and even had a boyfriend - the lesser mentioned Jewell Franklin, who she had since developed a mutual crush with. The two were very much good companions with the other, and it was this day that Barbara had made a decision to ask him to visit. Hopefully things would go rather smoothly from there.
Olivette had also finished an updated portrait for Barbara, and was now working on a newer, much edgier project.
She had christened it “Harken to childhood”, and it was a bit of a risk, considering it looked like a child’s drawing, but due to her artistic vision and her explanation of the project, it sold for a tidy 250 simoleans. Which would buy her maybe… a vase? But vases were obviously very needed in today’s economic climate.
At this time, Barbara had finally called Jewell over, and was feeling excited in anticipation for his arrival.
The two seemed to get along very, very well.
Soon after their time was, in Barbara and Jewell’s opinion, well spent, Barbara had gotten down on one knee and offered something to Jewell.
It didn’t go very well, but not one to give up, Barbara took him up in her arms and squeezed and kissed until all oblivion.
It then went much, much better. Jewell Franklin moved in, and before any minds could be changed, Barbara and he married.
And Barbara Mayfield became Barbara Franklin.
With a quick clothing change and make-over, Barbara and Jewell became a three-bolt couple. It was a shame they were not younger, for they would surely have made beautiful babies.
It didn’t stop them doing the pre-baby ceremonies, though. Not in the slightest.
When Olivette returned from her job with a promotion, not to be outdone by her mother, she invited around the green, sparkling, atrociously evil warlock.
He certainly flew in in style.
While she could have done with using a different bed to her mother and now step-father, she made do, and certainly was not protesting in the end of it.
“Hey, Luke?"
“Hmm?” Replied Luke, half-asleep and feeling rather naked without his towering hat.
“Did you hear a lullaby?”
“No. It was probably just the wind, dear.”
“Yes… alright then.”
And with that, Olive settled into a deep sleep, the green sparkles exuding from her lover not putting her off in the slightest.
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Points so far:
+17, for every sim in the neighbourhood.
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That’s all for now! See you all soon, and happy simming!
- Thai