Already in Progress, Chapter 27
Hi! Welcome back to Already in Progress! Before we get started, I’d like to apologize for a few of the pictures. (Including this one.) I managed to pick up a nasty computer virus that my anti-virus program couldn’t get rid of, so I had to wipe the hard drive and reinstall everything from the OS on up. It took me all freaking day! On the bright side, this is only the second time I’ve picked up a virus in ten years of having my very own computer, and everything is clean and working again, so that’s good. Anyway, the point of the story is that my graphics settings got a little messed up and I didn’t notice until after I’d taken some of the pictures in this chapter. And they’re not really the kind of pictures you can just fake later, either. I hope that you’ll be able to forgive me.
That said, let’s rejoin our story: Already in Progress…
Let’s start with the Miller household, where I had Byron spend the day being especially nice to Jerome because…
Well, just because. You know.
BYRON: (sobs)
JEROME: Come on, Byron, don’t cry. Mr. Spock wouldn’t cry at a Platinum death by Old Age, now, would he?
BYRON: Mr. Spock would bawl his framming eyes out! You’re younger than me - you’re not supposed to go first!
JEROME: I’m sorry, Byron. “Live long, and prosper.”
BYRON: Not without you, I won’t! (sobbing redoubles)
Jerome (Woodrow) Miller, three years younger than Byron. Jerome was a man of strong opinions, many of them about one science fiction show or another. He was also a lawyer who would argue his client’s case with as much passion and expertise as he would argue the case for Tom Baker being the best Doctor Who ever, so it’s probably not a surprise that he was successful. Jerome also brought Byron out of his self-imposed quasi-Vulcan shell, and Byron was grateful every day for fifty years or so. Byron will not be the only one who misses Jerome - I will too.
Rest in peace, Jerome.
Byron perked up a little when he attended his nephew’s wedding.
BYRON: Tyger! It’s good to see you! How are the sproglets?
But only a little.
And no, it wasn’t Tyrone’s wedding. It was Ryan’s.
Ryan has married into my Officially Wacky Boolprop Challenge, and any further updates about him can be found there. [/shameless self-promotion]
And then I had Amy spend the whole day being extra nice to Byron because…
Well, you know. Because.
BYRON: Well, finally! Took your own sweet time about it, didn’t you?
GRIM REAPER: Tha… ki.. .f an u.-Vul.. ..ing .o sa., ..n’t i.?
BYRON: Yeah, well, I’m not Vulcan. I got my drink - now point me towards Jerome.
Byron Miller, 79 years old, seen here listening to his future husband expound upon what really happened to the Mary Celeste. When it came to interpersonal relationships, Byron was a late but enthusiastic bloomer. Byron was a Popularity Sim who repeatedly rolled the Want to Adopt A Child until I finally gave in, and who thereafter kept on rolling Wants to interact with his daughter. I think perhaps there was a touch of the Family Sim about our Byron. He had a wildly out-of-character LTW, which he nevertheless achieved, and he took the secret of what it was to his grave.
Goodbye, Byron. You lived long, and prospered.
Amy has the dubious distinction of being 1) good at making robots and 2) boring. So instead of running out her time each rotation on Free Will while I do something more interesting, like fold the laundry, Amy will be taken out of the rotation entirely and will eventually run the town robot shop.
If I can ever decide whether it will be shiny-modern or classy-Victorian and come up with a design that isn’t a box.
At the Most Logical Brotherhood of the Telescope, Charlotte and Dante have become absolutely adorable Toddlers, with an extra helping of “aw.” Did you know that Toddlers could play with the jack-in-the-box together? It’s so cute!
Take a good look, because they don’t look like this anymore.
They’re still cute, but they're no longer green.
The sproglets didn’t attend Ryan’s wedding because they had what appeared to be bad colds, and Matt stayed home to take care of them. Except that they didn’t have colds at all. They had threeps, and Matt caught it too.
As you no doubt are aware, threeps is a devastating disease that unravels Birth Queen DNA and claims a 100% mortality rate for all pureblooded Birth Queens everywhere. Threeps is rare only because Birth Queen DNA is so rare; it can lie dormant for many years until a suitable host presents itself, and there is no known cure. Because Matt, Shonda, and their children are not purebred Birth Queens, they did not die. But the rare and valuable Birth Queen genes have been lost for another generation.
Matt is taking this rather hard.
MATTHIAS: But it’s the only thing that makes sense!
TYRONE (patiently, in the tones of a man who has explained this fifty times already and fully expects to explain it at least fifty more): Matt, you didn’t do anything wrong. Hobbes is not mad at you.
MATTHIAS: Well, it can’t be Esme or Iolanthe; they’ve Gone Before. It’s the Age of Hobbes, and if he’s not mad at me, why aren’t I green now?
TYRONE: Matt, you had threeps. You’re lucky to be alive.
MATTHIAS: I’m going to take my full vows. Maybe then he’ll be happy with me again.
TYRONE (patiently, etc.): Matt, Hobbes is not mad at you.
And that night, something happened that restored Matt’s faith and generally made everyone very happy, but which I cannot prove directly because when I reinstalled, I forgot to turn off the special events camera.
Although actually, “giddy” is probably more accurate than “very happy.”
BARTHOLOMEW: It worked! They came!
MATTHIAS: We’re going to have green babies again!
I hope we have a green baby, singular. Population control, and all that.
100% natural abduction, folks! I even remembered to save this time! And we got free peanuts! (does the happy dance)
Not much happened with Jasper and Jasmine while the girls were at college.
Well, not much that I can talk about. I like my internal organs to stay that way, thenk yew.
But I found it quite amusing that Russ Bear decided that breaking into her house would be a good way to impress his boss.
And speaking of breaking in…
YVETTE: zzzz - snkHuh? Robin? Did you hear something?
ROBIN: Mmmm?
GRIM REAPER: .r. San….? .ou’.. .us. bee. ..lec… to re….. . .ree on.-.ay .ruis. to th. …erli...
ROBIN (rubbing his eyes and sitting up): Really? Does that come with complimentary juice?
GRIM REAPER: O. .our…
ROBIN: Is there pineapple in it?
GRIM REAPER: O. .our...
ROBIN: Hot damn! - Honey, don’t forget to tell the kids that I’m expecting grandbabies, and that if I don’t get any, I’m going to haunt ‘em for all eternity.
Robin Sanders, née Smith. Robin was something of a surprise baby, since his mother was pushing fifty when he was born and had never had a child before. Robin’s father, on the other hand, was a mere twenty and a Romance Sim to boot. There was a complex and undocumented plot involving resurrection, the Secret Society, and an ex-boyfriend that was really cool and it’s too bad you missed it. To make a long story short, Robin’s mother ended up alone, and when she died on Robin’s sixth birthday, Robin was taken away by the social worker. Robin’s father stepped up, obtained custody, and was a terrific parent. As a result of this background, Robin was forever seeking True Love and a Real Family. Three bolts is hard to find, but I made sure he was happy with two. Well, except for the whole can-I-have-ten-kids-please thing.
Goodbye, Robin. I hope life is easier for you on the other side.
As part of my ongoing efforts to keep the number of houses that I have to play down, Mifune’s family has moved in with Eileen’s family. Yvette Sanders (right) and Elle Tang (left) get along famously and immediately rolled Wants to become friends.
Must be the hat.
Then, of course, it was time for makeovers all around.
EILEEN: Hey, Mifune - what’s with the dopey outfit? I thought you were going to wear nothing but Gilscarbo from now on.
MIFUNE: That was the plan. Then when I was in the bathroom, this old bald guy jumped out at me and told me that if I thought I was going to wear that in his house, I was very much mistaken. It’s a good thing I was in the bathroom.
EILEEN: Oh, that’s Uncle Colin. Not exactly a surprise.
MIFUNE: So I changed to a nice suit. Maybe the Gilscarbo casual line isn’t up to his standards, you know? He looked pretty nattily dressed.
EILEEN: Yeah, Uncle Colin was big into clothes.
MIFUNE: Well, he didn’t like the suit, either. Which reminds me - have you got any good stain remover for the carpet?
EILEEN: I dunno.
MIFUNE: Oh, never mind. We’ll just have it replaced after the wedding.
The family has nearly $190,000 in the bank. Yvette lost $30,000 on a chance card, and I don’t think anyone even noticed.
Both bride and groom wore Gilscarbo to the wedding. It was during the day, so there were no dead relatives to raise objections, although certain people decided to take a nap instead of watching their own twin brother get married.
Eileen Tang is now Eileen Sanders.
MIFUNE: Well, Mrs. Sanders, I must say: that outfit really emphasizes your assets.
EILEEN: Oh, come now, Mr. Sanders. You know you’re not supposed to talk about a lady’s stock portfolio in public.
MIFUNE: But we’re married now. It’s okay.
EILEEN: Not in public. But I’ll tell you what: Let’s mosey on upstairs and you can have a nice close look at my holdings.
(Mifune turns and starts for the house at only just barely under a run.)
AMY GOSS, EILEEN’S FRIEND FROM COLLEGE: Why are they going upstairs? The party isn’t over yet.
AMY MILLER: …You mean you really don’t know?
I’m sure you’ll be unsurprised to hear that the party was a Roof Raiser.
ROBI: Rosie, have you seen Parenting Your Half-Alien Teenage Girl? I could have sworn it was here a couple days ago.
ROSALIE: Oh, that. I threw it away.
ROBI: Why’d you want to do that?
ROSALIE: It didn’t work. I tried everything in it. Heck, I tried everything short of interpretive dance.
ROSALIE (V.O.): Trixie just hates me, that’s all.
ROSALIE: Ixietray, oday ouyay antway ancakespay?
TRIXIE: No, Rosie. I have a toaster pastry.
ROSALIE: Alktay otay emay inyay Alienyay.
TRIXIE: Nobody else has to talk to their father’s wife in another language. I’m not going to be weird like you.
ROSALIE: Iyay amway otnay eirdway. Andyay ouyay allcay emay “Ommay,” oday ouyay earhay emay, oungyay adylay?
TRIXIE: Yeah, whatever. There’s the bus. - Bye, Daddy! Love you!
Trixie’s relationship with Rosie has not improved.
Trixie’s aesthetic sense has also not improved, unfortunately. And her dancing has gotten worse now that she can’t just stand on Daddy’s feet.
Robi is quite a good dancer, actually. Dancing ability is not correlated with dress sense.
ROSALIE: Thank you, Robi. You’ve always been able to make me feel better.
ROBI: You’re welcome. But why are we stopping? (joking) You got a hot date or something?
ROSALIE: In a manner of speaking.
(Robi sobs)
ROSALIE: Wow, is that what they look like? I never thought it’d be an actual hourglass.
GRIM REAPER: ..at di. .ou ex…t?
ROSALIE: I thought it was a metaphor. So what comes next?
GRIM REAPER: .el. -
TRIXIE: No, Mr. Reaper! No! Don’t take my mommy!
ROSALIE: Did you hear that? She called me “Mommy”! Trixie called me “Mommy”!
TRIXIE: Mommy, don’t leave me! I love you! I’m sorry! Please…
ROSALIE: Oh, now I have to stay! That’s the first time in fifteen years she’s called me anything but “Rosie.” We’re going to have to do this another day. Come back when Trixie’s in college, okay?
GRIM REAPER: .orr., .rs. San….. .o ca. .o.
ROSALIE: Party pooper! Goodbye, Robi. Goodbye, sugarlump. I love you both!
Rosalie Sanders, 70 years old. (Dang rebuild, messing up my ages!) Rosie was the biological daughter of Marcel Sanders and his husband Zeeshan, thanks to some alien technology. coughBoolpropcough Rosie had a special relationship with her (second) cousin (once removed, by adoption) Aren in college, but eventually settled on a life with Robi instead. Following Rosie’s unproductive natural abduction, she made her own husband available to the aliens, for a fee. Her relationship with Robi’s daughter Trixie was not necessarily as bad as I have made it appear, and there will be much inconsolable crying at the Sanders household for some time.
Goodbye, Rosie.
You can tell when I’m at the end of a generation, can’t you?
Hi, Kitty! How’s it going? How’s Mircea? No more heatstroke?
KITTY (V.O.): No more heatstroke. Most of us are doing well.
Most of you? How’s Tirtha?
KITTY (V.O.): Tirtha’s gone popularity of all things. Everyone else in the family wants one skill point before breakfast -
Except you.
KITTY (V.O.): Except me. One skill point before dinner is good enough for me. But with Tirtha, it’s all mirror-related wants: Gussy Up, Practice Romance, Practice Speech… I wouldn’t be surprised if Use Acne Cream showed up one of these days.
How’s Simon?
KITTY (V.O.): Simon has his young lady, of course. Or she has him. (sniffs disapprovingly) I think she’s too bossy and opinionated to be a good wife, me.
Not a shy retiring violet like yourself, huh?
KITTY (V.O.) (suspiciously): Was that sarcasm?
Sarcasm? Heaven forfend! How’s Nirel?
KITTY (V.O.): Not so good. He has no friends outside the family, and he spends all his time on a stupid fansite - All Possible Worlds, I think it’s for? But he can barely see the screen, no matter how close he gets. And that’s not the worst of it.
It’s not?
KITTY (V.O.): No. He couldn’t read the directions on the TV dinner last month. Or read the oven knob either. And when the stove caught fire, he couldn’t see to get out of the kitchen. I’m glad we live so close to the fire station, that’s all.
Maybe he needs glasses?
KITTY (V.O.): We took him to the doctor. It’s degenerative.
What does that mean, exactly?
KITTY (V.O.) (bitterly): It means that Mircea and I handed our baby boy a genetic bomb with a lit fuse, that’s what it means. His eyesight will get worse and worse as the fuse burns down, and when it goes off, he’ll be blind. Permanently.
Wow, Kitty, I’m so sorry.
KITTY (V.O.): “Sorry” isn’t going to help when we’re gone and the kids have to sell the house. “Sorry isn’t going to get Tirtha a life of her own, instead of one spent caring for her brother. “Sorry” isn’t going to help Nirel have friends, or ever get him the family he craves. His life is effectively over now, do you understand?
Oh, come on. Being blind doesn’t mean -
KITTY (V.O.): No. You don’t understand. Go away.
Okay… In other news, Harkon is leaving home for the first time.
AMETHYST: Bye, sweetie! Have a great time at college! Meet lots of fun people!
PERRY: And let me know if you need any money for the matchmaker.
AMETHYST: Don’t pressure him, Perry!
PERRY: Who’s pressuring him? We both want Six Grandchildren. His LTW will be a lot easier if he fulfills mine, that’s all I’m saying -
HARKON (to the driver): Can we get out of here, please?
We’ll see more of Harkon next time, in the next college chapter.
Perry and Amy celebrated having the house all to themselves for the first time in eighteen years in the traditional manner of parents everywhere.
But Amy had to become an Elder with no party at all, and she was Not Happy. This was, um, due to Perry’s complete and total lack of Outgoing points.
Yeah, that’s it.
It has nothing to do with my incompetent playing. Nope.
Not at all.
Why are you all staring at me? Quick, look over there!
As you may or may not have noticed with the cover page for today’s story, Descartes is still my little Glitch!Baby. I figure that the best way to fix a Gitch!Baby is to grow them up. After all, you can’t have a Glitch!Baby if you don’t have a baby, right?
No, but you can have a Glitch!Toddler.
Who, by the way, grew up into one of those stupid Happy Holiday Stuff romper suits. The pack was probably worth the low price I paid for it - I like one of the updos, love the Asian outfits, and fireworks and mistletoe are always good for a laugh. I hate hate hate the toddler outfits. Fortunately, here Glitch!Baby is in his pajamas, which are normal.
Now if only he would stop relieving himself in his father’s abdominal cavity…
Glitch!Baby - or Descartes, as he was officially named - has proven to have a definite fondness for the Wobbly Wabbit Head. I don’t know if that is because he’s particularly Outgoing (he is), because he likes to talk (he does), or because it makes the most interesting noises when you smash it on the floor (I wouldn’t presume to judge).
Here you see Sarah Jane trying (unsuccessfully, as it turned out) for one last crop of eggplants before winter sets in. Descartes learned to walk from Daddy, just like Mommy learned from her Daddy.
Descartes is not so concerned with Tradition, though. If you can walk, you can go more places without having to wait for someone to come carry you.
Not that Descartes has ever waited particularly long.
Case in point: Sarah Jane was taking altogether too long to come and get Descartes out of his high chair, so Descartes telepathically summoned Cousin Jasper to come and let him out.
SARAH JANE: Descartes, I was on my way over!
I’m not kidding. Jasper walked right in, picked Descartes up, and gave him a snuggle. I don’t think he’s even seen Sarah Jane since her wedding, though they talk on the phone sometimes.
Yes, Descartes thrives on attention - to him, or to his every need. So he was thrilled when Uncle Ryan and Aunt Ruth came over to visit. Cousin Buttercup stayed home with a sitter, which was probably wise: Glitch!Baby doesn’t like sharing the spotlight.
RYAN: So he goes down for a nap easily?
TIMOTHY: Easily? Corrupt files, no! He’s being extra charming because you’re here. Is Buttercup a good napper?
RYAN: She was, until she started teething.
DESCARTES: Good napper! Good!
TIMOTHY: Yes, you’re going to be a good napper today, aren’t you? (to Ryan) Have you tried giving her those chew toys that you freeze? They really help a lot.
DESCARTES: I good napper! No Booca! Bad baby!
TIMOTHY: Cousin Buttercup is not a bad baby. Cousin Buttercup is a good baby. And you are going to be a good boy and show Uncle Ryan how well you sleep, aren’t you?
And while the men discussed such important and manly topics as which type of gel works best for relieving teething pain and whether disposable diaper wipes are better or worse than a good supply of damp washcloths, the women spent time bonding.
RUTH: Ha! Scissors beats paper! I win again!
SARAH JANE: Ehhh - how can you be so good at this? Best seven out of twelve, okay?
I just realized that you really didn’t get a good look at Descartes, so here he is again, large as life and twice as natural. Aunt Ruth is having a wonderful time teaching him swear words.
RUTH: Say “damme,” Descarte. Go on, “damme”! “Damme”!*
DESCARTES: Howwow! (bangs Wobbly Wabbit Head on the floor)
*Note: “Damme” is pronounced like “dummy,” except with an “A” instead of an “E.” It was a Very Bad Word in Victorian England.
And I will leave you with this picture of a no-longer-green Matt giving his pregnant-with-alien-spawn husband a Slow Dance Twirl. Still three bolts, folks, and still adorable.
Until next time: Happy Simming!
*******************************
The Grim Reaper’s lines, in order:
That’s kind of an un-Vulcan thing to say, isn’t it?
Mr. Sanders? You’ve just been selected to receive a free one-way cruise to the afterlife.
Of course.
Of course.
What did you expect?
Well -
Sorry, Mrs. Sanders. No can do.