Days 34 & 35: Bow Chicka Wow Wow and the Musings of Bertram
Robi knows Kung Fu. Or, that’s what he’d have you believe, if you happened to catch him making poses in the mirror.
Why is it that every day in Casa del Llama starts in the bathroom. Whatever the reason, today would be one of the most gripping that I’ve experienced with this group. Not because of anything overly intense or exciting. No, it was gripping purely from a scientific stand point. Today was the day that Robi found out he absolutely loved coffee. We’ll start things out at 9 am. Gig day. Six hours before the show. Everyone’s just had a breakfast of waffles, and Robi decides an overly complicated cup of coffee is in order. I think it was something with chocolate-banana sprinkles. Whatever it was, it must’ve been the best damn thing he’d ever tasted, because he made four more.
In true Robi fashion, he drank three of them. Of course, he was buzzed for the next eight hours, which suited him just fine, as he never likes to sit down anyway. Surprisingly, he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, like rewire the entire house, or have a heart attack. I imagine four, multi-shot espresso drinks are nothing to one who was born in the darkest pits of Hell. I kept my eye on him, wondering if the effects of the caffeine would suddenly wear off at the worst time, like while driving, or in the middle of the performance. The hours passed, and everything went as smooth as can be. He stayed hopped up and full of energy, the others unnoticing his extra-excitable behavior, and before we knew it, it was show time.
Like always, the gig went flawlessly, despite the absence of any viewers. MML doesn’t care. A gig is a gig, and they play for the love of the music. And the money. And the fame. And, the fans too, probably, if they would ever show up. Spirits were high after the show. So high, in fact, that Pete called Sugar to come join everyone at the Banzai Lounge to hangout. Now, follow along closely here, and tell me if this is what you would consider to be a normal chain of events in a relationship. First, Sugar invited Pete on a date about two weeks ago. Since then, they’ve gone on three more (which have more or less been decent, blood-pouch consumption aside), and hung out a couple of times besides that. There has been plenty of flirting, making out, and presumably some dirty talk exchanged through heated whispers. My question, is date number five the appropriate date to get buck wild in the elevator?
I’m not judging. Sometimes, the urge just strikes people, regardless of whether they’re at home, or in the elevator of their latest gig. I’ll admit, I had no idea Sims would just turn on rabbit mode without some kind of user interference. With it only being rated T, I thought there wouldn’t be random acts of sex just occurring like some kind of National Geographic documentary. I was wrong. Good for them! Perhaps this was that last big step in their relationship before things became “super-serious”. Or, maybe Pete just let her know that he was DTF, and things escalated quickly. Regardless, he was incredibly happy with himself as soon as he emerged from the makeshift love cave, strutting around like he had indeed just pounded a vampire in an elevator.
There was a downside to Pete’s sexy time. It seemed to place a damper on the rest of the band. They had been chilling at the bar, enjoying some drinks (even Shy Claudia), but after he emerged with Sugar, hair all disheveled and pants on backwards, the rest decided it was time to go home. Perhaps they were just slightly weirded out. Though, I think the event just made them look at their own lives and realize, for the first time, that they were in fact alone.
Actually, the only one who’s spirits hadn’t seemed to sink was Robi, probably because he was still feeling the final effects of his earlier binge coffee drinking. It was clear he had become addicted, because his first action upon arriving back home was to make another round of coffee, where he drank two more espressos. This is where things start to get a little strange. He would stop drinking them. His tiredness level continued to drop, and he continued to fight it by drinking coffee. They had some dinner, and he drank coffee. They watched some TV, after which he drank another coffee. Pete finally came home around 2 am, finding Robi drinking a coffee and the girls already sleeping. Robi simply wouldn’t let himself fall asleep. I was amazed. He was pulling an all-nighter. Even as his sleep bar hit ruby red and he gained the exhausted debuff, he would simply drink another coffee before his caffeine buzz faded, and he stayed awake.
This continued until nine the next morning, when the rest of the house awoke to find him watering a patch of lettuce that he had planted during the night. I didn’t even know he had lettuce to plant. Hell, I didn’t even know you could plant lettuce, but there he was, watering can in hand, standing over a tiny garden.
By now, the first inclinations of concern were beginning to hit me. Robi had consumed eight coffees, each with who knows how many shots of espresso, and he hadn’t slept in over 24 hours. Even more worrisome, he simply continued to keep himself caffeinated instead of going to sleep. The rest of the group came down for breakfast, but he refused the food and opted for more coffee. He had become an addict in just a day. What had I done?
It was another off day, so there was no chance of sending them off to play and making Robi come down off of his buzz. I could only sit back and watch the entire ordeal unfold. After another two coffees, I watched as he approached Bertram for a chat. I can’t tell you what the rest of the group was doing, I couldn’t let Robi out of my sight. If he went into some kind of caffeine shock, I was his only hope of survival. What I didn’t know was that Bertram was trained in the art of de-caffeination.
He then asked his new butler pal for advice. Advice about what, I don’t know, but Bertram told a story of how he used to laugh at the word “ham” as a child. Yeah, WTF is right. Of course, Robi understood each and every word, nodding in agreement as Bertram spoke. Whatever this message of nonsense meant, Robi shook Bertram’s hand, walked up stairs, crawled into bed, and slept for the next 12 hours. Mother of God, Bertram is….not of this world…He’s some kind of angel, sent to watch over my misguided flock.
With Robi apparently broken out of his downward spiral of caffeine and no sleep, the rest of the house could go on with their day. For Farrah, this meant reading the newly printed 50 Shades of Baphomet. I have no idea how she got this, because it only hit the shelves a couple of days before, but I’m pretty sure she read most of it in one sitting. She didn’t move for about five hours, caught up in the hot and steamy bliss that was Baphomet and his sensual ways. At one point, Bertram came over and sat down next to her, presumably to sneak a peak at what she was reading.
No doubt, it was far too graphic for his distinguished tastes, and so he set himself about the house, giving new meaning to the butler name.
By now, it was nearing the end of the day, and what a day it had been. Robi was now in a mild coma, Farrah was learning about exciting new sexual deviancy, and Bertram was truly the man of the house. What’s more, I could feel the dynamics shifting within Casa del Llama. I just couldn’t figure out why. There was a different feel to the group. Not bad, necessarily, just different. Perhaps they were maturing. Perhaps they were beginning to think about their futures, beyond MML. Whatever it was, I could tell it would have to lead to some interesting events in the near future.