Day 18: The Desolation of Josephine
Every now and then, there are events in life which just don’t seem to add up. Questions of fate and chance that leave you struggling to understand reality. Why do you lose socks? When will 2Pac come back from the grave to release more music? Why the fuck did Josephine just drop a pile of dirty laundry onto the kitchen floor?
This was how the household was greeted the next day, by a maid with literally the worst work ethic I have ever seen. Dirty dishes were on the tables, the countertops were filthy, there was a puddle in the bathroom, and then this – tossing laundry on the floor. Why Josephine? Just tell me why? You’re being paid $125 for like, four hours of work. That’s $31 an hour. Seeing this was just so unexpected, I paused the game and investigated a bit. Surely there was a reason that lead to her just tossing laundry onto the floor in front of us. Was it the spiders that I saw in the kitchen earlier? Nope, Robi must have eaten all of them. Was there simply too much work? Sure, MML seems to be comprised of two complete slobs, a hipster and one neat freak, but together they’re less hygienically revolting than any dude’s dorm room. I quickly arrived at two conclusions. The first was that she was some kind of demonic messenger, sent here to retrieve Robi and deliver him to his masters in the Nether. The other was that she was just a shitty maid. Luckily, there was one answer for both conclusions.
I fired her so hard, it made Robi’s shirt burst into flames and burn to ashes on the floor next to him. The worst part was that she was only about an hour into her shift, and she still took the full $125 from me after she received the boot. People these days. I was curious to see what the household’s reaction would be to the firing of dear, stupid Josephine. No one cared that much, as it turned out. In fact, after she left, Claudia gathered all of the laundry in the house and began to wash it, load by load. I suppose that’s what happens when you unleash a caged neat-freak. But, as they had a gig later that day, there was no time for further questioning of Josephine’s misguided logic. Now was the time for rest, to collect their thoughts, and prepare their minds for the gig. Claudia, of course, continued to clean. Farrah took a swim, Pete enjoyed some light reading, and Robi broke ground on what appears to be an unexpected life goal: writing a trashy romance novel. Seriously, I switched over to him and this is what I found.
I intervened a bit here, cancelling his action and restarting his novel, this time with a proper name. I know we are all waiting for the day 50 Shades of Baphomet hits the shelves. With Robi’s new hobby set on its proper course, there wasn’t much time left before the show. I let him type another chapter or two (Claudia needed a little extra time to properly starch everyone’s pants) before gathering everyone up into the Murder Mobile and sending them off to the gig. Like always, there was a smattering of bar flies milling about the foosball table. Though, this time, the gang was soon recognized, as indicated by the bubbly thought clouds featuring their faces floating above the handful of patrons. Of course, they could have all just been in a drunken stupor and thought the band was the police, but I’ll stay positive with this one. Anyway, even if they didn’t know who Masochistic Murder Llama was before this, they were damn sure going to remember after. MML was no longer simply playing music, they were entertaining.
The picture doesn’t show it, but even Pete was spinning his bass around like it was his high school prom date and he was trying to make it to second base. And Claudia, she was jumping up and pulling one of the finest reverse Stevie Wonders I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t have been prouder. They had come so far in such a short time. This was sure to attract the proper attention. Just watching them, I could feel the record deals and sold out shows just beyond the horizon, awaiting their monumental ascent upon the MML Love Rocket. Before long, the gig had ended, and the after party began. I’m pretty sure the gang could feel the magic of that show, because there was no drunken table dancing, or binge-eating bar nachos or trying to stab people with darts. It was a subdued celebration, one of controlled energy and introspective thought. Plus, I think everyone was a little tired, so they called it an early night, got paid, and headed home.
The sun set that day on a household full of stardom, after rising just 12 hours earlier on one brimming with hopeful uncertainty. Yes, they were still playing dive bars at noon, but the energy they were bringing to each show would soon be too much for the flimsy, beer-stained walls of such establishments. All four of them were rapidly rocketing up the celebrity charts and making a name for themselves through their music. They were even receiving gifts now, simply for being Simlebrities.
Life was most definitely on the path to awesomeness.