Day 29: Sponge Robi No Pants
The next morning, Claudia was still feeling a little queasy.
Luckily, it soon passed, and she was back to her normal self. The first half of the day was spent relaxing, as was the routine on any gig day. Farrah took a swim, Claudia honed her piano skills, Pete called up Sugar for either a nice chat or to have some hot Sim phone sex, and Robi worked on his novel. It was indeed a chill day. Perhaps a bit too chill. The gig was at three, and at one, everyone was only just starting to take showers (and they all needed it). With two showers in the house, and four disgusting Sims in need of them, simple math can show exactly what the problem is. Robi, however, loathes math with a fiery passion. Flipping the double bird to such limitation, he stripped down in front of the kitchen sink, shooed Pete out of the house, and grabbed a sponge.
His quick thinking allowed the gang to be squeaky clean in time for the show, which was good, because it took all of them a good hour to finally show up at the gig. There was just something about traversing the streets of downtown Bridgeport, using an elevator to go to a different floor, and walking through a door that they could not comprehend. Seriously, they stood in front of the building for half an hour, doing nothing. I thought they were going to miss their gig due to loitering, but finally, probably through the divine intervention of some Sim God, they made it. What followed was awesome.
Unfortunately, there was no one inside this place, which is understandable at 3 pm on a Tuesday. MML didn’t care, and neither did I. This place was like an arena compared to the other venues. Awesome lighting, great atmosphere, laz0rs, and a freaking fog machine. Of course, when surrounded by such epicness, the band needs to play just as epic. And they did.
Not even what appeared to be a pyrotechnic malfunction could turn that night into anything but pure metal.
Despite the lack of an audience, it was a sweet gig, with an awesome payout of 5000 simoleans, and a decent chunk of celebrity points. The gang then decided it was time to celebrate with a drink. Well, everyone except for Claudia. Ever the shy one, she headed home, probably saying she needed to water her hydrangeas or something. That girl needs to live a little. Anyway, Pete did what any responsible bass player would do and ordered a mystery drink, complete with a Riddler-esque swizzle stick.
While Pete was getting wasted on God knows what, I checked in on Claudia. She was whipping up what appeared to be borscht. To each their own, I guess. Back at the lounge, the rest of the band were just finishing up their cocktails. I’m not sure how many Farrah plowed through, but she wasn’t looking too good as she tried to get out of the elevator.
Rogue elevators aside, they were all able to return home safe and sound, and head to sleep after their best show to date. With any luck, their next gig would be just a phone call away.
Oh, PS, I forgot to fire Hans. I was too busy laughing at Robi. I’ll see about it next time.