Day 28: Predator
The final day of the fourth week started off with what can only be described as Gnomic Trickery. The how and why of the situation may not ever be known, but it’s safe to say that the Flamingo guard has finally fallen for such a travesty to occur. Behold!
That bastard gnome moved! I didn’t know it could move. I was just using it as the center-piece of my Flamingo-based lawn art. If I had known those Flamingos were actually protecting the world from some kind of pointy-hat abomination, I would’ve replaced the one lost to the overzealous repo-man. Now look what has happened. Who knows the kind of havoc this thing will bring to the land. For his part, Robi took some time to be by himself. Perhaps he had remembered those instances where he kicked the Flamingo soldiers, and was now feeling the heavy burden of remorse. Could that have been the reason why they were so lax at their post overnight? We may never know. However, after a while, such thoughts were pushed aside. Farrah received an invitation to play at the Banzai lounge, the must upscale venue to date for MML. A lounge! Perhaps we’d meet the Sim version of Tom Jones. It was sure to spread the word even farther. Best of all, it meant that we had graduated from the Dive Bar Circuit, and were well on our way to becoming a lounge act! Naturally, the men of the house celebrated with –and I’m not exaggerating here – a six hour video game spree.
Seriously, six hours. They began after breakfast, with full hunger, bathroom, and shower bars, so they literally had nothing to stop for. And they took full advantage of it. The world progressed around them, moving forward in the infinite loop that is time while they watched on as outsiders. Nothing could phase them. Lunchtime? They weren’t hungry. Phone calls? No thanks. Hans walking in front of the TV? Who’s Hans?
I almost forgot about the rest of the house, so enraptured was I by this marathon chaining of SimGames. Luckily, (or unluckily I suppose) I happened to catch Hans walking into the bathroom as Claudia was standing in front of the mirror. Curiosity got the better of me, and I watched as he pulled out his cell and snap a bathroom pic of MML’s star pianist.
I didn’t know what to think about this. Was he just hoping for a picture of his favorite member of his favorite band? Why didn’t he just ask? Was he actually a maid, or just some deluded fan who had infiltrated the house and earned our trust just to handle our underwear? Dear God, I bet Hans isn’t even his real name!! Shocked, and feeling slightly violated, I went back to the boys, to see if they were still going strong, and to think about how to handle the Hans situation. Luckily, Claudia hadn’t seemed to notice that she had been ogled from the corner of the bathroom and she eventually came over to the TV, presumably to try and talk some sense into the boys. At first, she merely integrated herself, watching them with mock interest, flashing the occasional grin to ensure them she was there as friend, not foe. However, when she saw her opportunity, she struck, unleashing what was surely the most scornful tirade they had ever heard since their mothers found their hidden porn collection.
Eventually, it was time for dinner. The wondrous aromas of Farrah’s homemade mac n’ cheese finally forced them to set the controllers down and remove themselves from in front of the TV. Hans the Creeper had only left an hour earlier, but I had spent the time after his bathroom incident with one eye on him. I would have to fire him. He was the best household help I could have ever asked for, but the last thing I needed was a potential sexual predator stalking the halls and stealing the most delicate of laundry (and possibly our skin). I would tell the group the next day, so that they could at least enjoy the rest of their evening. Unfortunately for Claudia, her evening was spent in front of the toilet. Somehow, she once again ended up eating something with meat in it. It’s been a month at this point, surely everyone should know not to serve her meat. Maybe Farrah used a jar of sauce that had meat in it. Maybe she had enjoyed an entire bottle of Merlot before cooking and it simply slipped her mind. Whatever the reason, it was 1 am, and Claudia was not feeling well at all.
And so ended the first month of the story that is Masochistic Murder Llama, heaving out of Claudia’s throat like a liquefied meat slurpee. For the most part, it had been nothing but success. The next day would bring a brand new venue, and things could only go up from there. Right?