fiestafabulous

Drabble Requests: strange_tomato "lucky"

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 15:06:10 GMT

Request from strange_tomato

Prompt: lucky

Characters: Jasmine and Zoey Zimmerman

WC: 117

“. . .that has nothing to do with it,” Jasmine sat back on the bike saddle, legs still pedaling.

Zoey snorted in reply.

“Oh, it’s a big plot, right? A breeder conspiracy to try and ruin the band? Tell me when I’m getting warm.” Jasmine laughed and sighed, standing up on the pedals.

“Bitch, please,” Zoey countered. “I never said it was a conspiracy.”

Jasmine swiped sweat from her forehead, eyes rolling.

“Don’t roll you eyes at me.”

“Oh, I’m going to roll my eyes at you all I want.”

“All I said was it was LUCKY.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes again.

“Shut up. The way they’re going, we are lucky. Lucky they aren’t knocked up. AGAIN!”

Drabble requests: simfulacts and zepheera

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 20:38:41 GMT

Request from simfulacts

Prompt: mystery

Characters: Peter Ottomas, Tommy Ottomas, Sharla Ottomas

WC: 101

Tommy jumped at the sound of his father’s coughing. He turned in time to see Peter, hand covering the receiver, smirking and nodding.

“Sorry about that,” Peter coughed again for emphasis. “Yeah? Honey and hot tea? I’ll have to try that, thank you.”

Tommy peered out from the safety of the refrigerator door. As he watched, Peter huffed a breath into his hand and sniffed before heading into the bathroom.

The bathroom and refrigerator doors closed in unison.

Outside, a horn honked.

“Cheese wagon’s waiting, Tommy.” Sharla plucked at her brother’s sleeve as she made her way to the front door.

Request for zepheera

Prompt: tomato

Character: Glam and Kitty Curious, Edwin Curious

WC: 141

“Did you see the size of these?”

Glam looked past the impressively large tomatoes to Kitty’s chest, leering playfully.

“Yeah, I’ve been watching those for years.”

Kitty gently nudged him with her hip and turned of the faucet. Glam pressed against her, chin on her shoulder, hands moving from her waist to her breasts.

“Nice and ripe, too,” he whispered. Kitty laughed and pressed her buttocks back against his crotch, encouraging him. Glam sighed into her ear.

“GRAMPY!”

Glam closed his eyes and tried to will his grandson away.

“Gramp-E,” Edwin repeated, more than a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“What-E,” Glam sighed audibly.

“Come look,” Edwin accentuated his request with a quick tug to his grandfather’s pant leg. Glam sighed again as he quickly kissed Kitty’s ear.

“Have fun,” she laughed.

“Yeah,” Glam replied as Edwin led him away.

Drabbles/Ficlets By Request: franwi and zepheera

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 20:42:10 GMT

Request for franwi

Prompt: lawful

Characters: Lunar Rockette Khillian, Pascal Curious

WC: 102

“It makes sense.”

Rocky smiled and pinched an unwanted bud from the bubble plant.

“Of course it makes sense,” she laughed, winking at Pascal. “It was MY idea.”

“So,” she continued, “I’ve been looking around and. . .”

“Why am I not surprised you’re three steps ahead,” Pascal cut in, laughing.

“What?,” Rocky gave a look of faux surprise and wiped her hands on her pants. “Like you were going to say no?”

“True,” Pascal produced a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands. “I’d be a fool to miss out on the opportunity to be the legitimate front for this operation.”

Request for zepheera

Prompt: inevitable

Characters: Pascal Curious, Percy Beaker, Albert Curious (aka PAP)

WC: 548 (follows “lawful”)

“Ok,” Pascal slid his plate onto the table as he sat, “we need to talk.”

Percy looked from Albert to Pascal and back, the hint of a smile trying to curl the sides of his mouth.

“Funny, we were just saying the same thing,” Percy waved his full fork between Albert and himself, noodles threatening to mist the tabletop with sauce.

“You first,” Pascal offered, breathing a sigh of relief as the potential mess finally made its way to Percy’s mouth.

“Well,” Percy spoke around the half-chewed food. Pascal grimaced.

“Well,” Albert drew Pascal’s attention away from Percy, “Percy and I have been talking and. . .”

“We’re going to have a baby,” Percy interjected. Pascal coughed and tried to hide his shock. Albert stared.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked, Pascal,” Percy laughed. “You had to know this was inevitable, right?”

“Well, I guess I was thinking you would, I don’t know, mention it before you went and DID it,” Pascal tried not to snap, failing miserably.

“What. . .shit. . .no.” It was Percy’s turn to choke on his food.

“NO ONE is pregnant,” Albert whacked Percy on the back, “yet. You really thought we would do this without including you?”

Pascal pushed back from the table and fetched a glass of water. Handing it to Percy, he addressed Albert.

“No, I mean,” he looked away from Albert. “You ok, Perc?” Percy gulped from the glass and loudly cleared his throat, nodding. Pascal slumped into his chair.

“So, I guess we know your opinion on the matter,” Albert’s tone and expression were flat.

“No. . .Al, no,” Pascal sighed. “I didn’t mean it to come out like THAT.”

Albert absently flicked at his food.

“You going to eat that?,” Percy stabbed at a meatball, retrieving it from Albert’s plate. “These are awesome. Really, if you’re not going to eat them, roll them on over here. I love snacks while watching a fight.”

“It’s not a fight,” Pascal countered, turning his attention to Albert. “Al, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. Percy’s delivery was just a bit. . .he caught me off guard is all.”

Albert stared at Pascal, his face still expressionless.

“I’m fine with more kids, really. But, well, this kind of ties in with what I was going to run past you two, I guess.” Pascal pushed his plate away and looked at Percy. “If you want that you can have it.” Percy didn’t hesitate to poach the meatballs. Pascal waited for Percy to look up from the plates.

“I’m going to open my own shop. A flower shop.” Albert’s face finally registered some emotion. “So with the cooler moving out of the second floor, I was going to propose we do a little renovating, maybe another bathroom upstairs, some more room for when the boys finally transition, OR a new baby. . .,” he grinned at Percy, “. . .or two if fertile myrtle there is involved.”

Albert laughed.

“Really?,” he smiled at the pair.

“Well, if we’re all in agreement,” Pascal replied.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Percy offered, reaching to spear another meatball from Albert’s plate.

“Hey,” Albert whacked Percy’s hand with the handle of his fork. Percy yelped and pulled away. “Get your own, food bag.”

Drabbles (and ficlet) by request: simhilarity, franwi, zepheera

Sat, 21 Jun 2008 16:45:34 GMT

Prompts: strange and tomato (from simhilarity)
Characters: Chester Gieke
WC: 96

He crouched and fingered the tomatoes, trying to decide if they were ripe.

"You look good," he commented, snapping the fruit from the vine. Without a second thought, he snapped a very green tomato free as well.

"You’ll fry up nicely."

Chester gave a small shudder and laughed. Standing up from the patch, he smiled and waved toward the next house. Most people might consider Terra more than a little strange, especially when she used her telescope to watch Chester while he gardened, but he didn’t mind. Truth to be told, he liked it. A lot.

Prompt: sharing (from franwi)
Character: Piquant Pollinator, Vidcund Curious
WC: 80

"I never realized you didn’t like it."

Piquant sighed.

"I didn’t say there was anything WRONG with it. It’s just, well I could never do it."

Vidcund laughed.

"What are you laughing at? I’m serious."

Vidcund laughed harder.

"Oh, so you’re saying you’d have no problem sharing me?"

Vidcund coughed, failing in his attempt to stifle his amusement.

"Hell, I could never share you, no. It’s just," he chortled again, "you’re so funny when you get all indignant like that."

Prompt: morning (from zepheera)
Character: Agamemnon Pollinator
WC: 453 (ooh, NOT a drabble, hmm?)

He’d never needed an alarm to wake him. In fact, he actively disliked alarm clocks. They reminded him of the Tock and The Community. Agamemnon Pollinator did not like being reminded of The Community.

Though there were a few things from The Community he didn’t mind dwelling on. He rolled over and watched Paul as he slept.

He thought about waking Paul by holding his nose shut then thought better of it. It was his husband’s day off. He’d let him sleep in.

Aggie eased himself from the bed, wincing at the cries of protest from his bladder. The combination of a long night’s sleep and his latest pregnancy had turned his bladder into a very disagreeable organ.

"Good morning, baby girl. Did you sleep well?" Aggie greeted the ever enthusiastic Marsha as she wiggled and pranced just outside the bedroom door. "Move, move, daddy’s got to pee."

He paused at the top of the stairs and waited for Marsha to shove past him before descending. His path to the bathroom led past the nursery. He didn’t hear any whining or crying, so they could wait. His bladder could not.

Aggie looked at his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands. He bugged out his eyes and made a duckbill with his lips. He narrowed his eyes to slits and arched one eyebrow, trying for a come hither look. Laughing, he turned off the water and dried his hands. He could hear the first sounds of stirring coming from the nursery.

"Good morning, my baby," he whispered to Jill as she stood up against the railing of her crib. "Oh, don’t cry, you’re fine," Aggie smoothed down her sleep mussed hair. "You don’t want to wake Jenny and Poppy, do you?" Before Jill could start to fuss, Aggie had her out of her crib and on the changing table. Jill watched him intently as he changed her.

"What are you thinking about, huh?" Jill smiled and squirmed. "I’ll bite it," Aggie teased, taking her foot in his hand. "I mean it." He put her foot against his mouth. Jill giggled and flailed. Aggie laughed. A low bark interrupted their play.

"Ok, ok, I’m coming," Aggie flapped his hand at Jan and Peter. With Jill perched on his hip, Aggie once again waited at the top of the stairs while the dogs bullied past him.

He set Jill on the floor with a bottle and tended to the empty dog bowls. Dogs and daughter contentedly eating, Aggie turned his attention to the kitchen. Despite it being his day off, Paul would soon wake to the sounds of Jenny’s fussing. Aggie estimated he had about an hour. Plenty of time. Plenty of time.

Prompts: Tenderly and condom (by request of strange_tomato)

Fri, 20 Jun 2008 16:30:29 GMT

request from strange_tomato

Prompts: tenderly and condom

Characters: Terra Moonbeam, Chester Geike, Rascal Moonbeam, Tempest Moonbeam

WC: 380

“Oh, oh Chester, I’m sorry,” Terra made soothing sounds, “you have a bed at home, don’t you?”

He nodded as he tried to find some level of comfort on the thin, yet surprisingly lumpy, mat.

“I’m so used to it,” she patted the mat as she spoke, “I don’t think I could ever sleep so high up, so far away from the earth. It’s enough that we’re so high up as it is.”

“Foundation,” she said the word like it was a curse, “it’s supposed to make us feel so stable, so protected yet it removes us from our roots, separates us from the very earth from which we were born.” She clucked her tongue then smiled, turning her attention to Chester and his rounded stomach.

“Oh, Chester, you should see yourself,” she slid closer to him, her hands absently playing over the rise of his belly. With any other sim, Chester wouldn’t have been this comfortable sharing a bed, being touched. There was just something about Terra.

“It’s not a glow, really,” she continued, “it’s more a contentment, a beautiful acceptance of what has been given to you.” His belly cupped tenderly in her hands, she began to lavish it with kisses. Chester closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, relishing every touch.

Afterward, Terra helped him up from the mat and kissed him lightly on the mouth. He kissed her back with more vigor than either of them had expected and they lingered in one another’s arms.

“Are you hungry?,” she didn’t wait for a reply, “You must be, go,” she gestured to the door as she stepped into her skirt, “forage in the kitchen, Chester. My home is your home.”

Stepping through the bedroom door and into the living room, Chester found Terra’s children just where they had left them, gathered around their new computer.

“Hi Chester,” Tempest called, not looking away from the screen. “Did you have a fun time with Terra?”

“I hope you used a condom,” Rascal added, wrestling the mouse from his little sister.

Chester blushed a deep crimson.

“Of course we were safe,” Terra closed the bedroom door behind her. She kissed Tempest on the top of her head and shook a finger at Rascal. “Children learn by example.”

Rants a-hoy!: Let me clear my throat. . .

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 22:13:23 GMT

. . .FUCK YOU!

This fuck you brought courtesy of the "senior management" of the shit stain of a department I work for.

I have never in my life had to suffer through such stupidity. At first, their incessant boobery was merely laughable. The point and laugh until you nearly fart kind of laughing.

But now, they have gone too far.

Forcing me to apologize to The King of the Dick Smears (let's abbreviate that KotDS) when (and this is the kicker) KotDS was NOT EVEN UPSET is the last straw.

It's not enough that I cc EIGHT (yes 8) people EVERY time I email this pain in the ass and that I've spent MANY HOURS coming to his every beckon call (some of which include his complaining that the use of the word "rejected" is too harsh and we should say "cancelled" instead) and that I now quite literally have to document every thing that I do with his orders (yes, this means sending emails that document who I spoke to, what date, and the fucking TIME the conversation happened, every time I do anything, even if just to confirm something that's already completed). Now I have to apologize for my "unprofessional tone" when the man WASN'T EVEN OFFENDED is FUCKING RE-GODDAMN-DICULOUS!

The pathetic excuses for leadership that are in charge of this failboat of a department should have their MBA's STRIPPED. The top boss (who I suspect was really the one having a pre-emptive fit over this "issue") is the very same ham handed half wit who had to be sent to (by his bosses) a WRITING CLASS so he could improve his own correspondences. And the boss directly under him has an entire shelf full of "how to manage" books in her office. Here's a tip. If you have to read "how to manage" books, YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG.

Thankfully, my direct boss (yes, that makes three bosses I have) has both common sense and a sense of humor. She's the one who had to discipline me and officially say (as a boss) that I was naughty (all while laughing and rolling her eyes).

If nothing else, this incident has made it abuntantly clear to me that KofDS's has this department by the short and curlies and is twisting for all he's worth.

Jokes on him. After today, I'm going completely bare.

SimStorytellers Drabbles: 3 text only offerings

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 20:27:40 GMT

(since they're picture less, they should be here)

Three text only drabbles from the simstorytellers prompts weekly list.

No pics since most of this hasn't happened (and might not happen just this way) in game (YET).

All three from Peculiar, all three from the Sunseri household (and they all go together)

Prompt: Transition

Characters: Loki, Circe and Spencer Sunseri

Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar

Word count: 94

The shower spray pattered against his swollen abdomen, droplets forming tiny rivers over his skin. Circe’s words echoed.

It’s a big transition for ALL of us.

He closed the taps and slicked the excess water from his face and hair before carefully stepping over the edge of the tub.

What if I slipped and fell. . .

Goosebumps danced to the surface of his skin. He grabbed his towel and slowly rubbed them away.

What if. . .

“Dad?. . .”

Spencer’s voice made him focus.

“. . .you almost ready to go, dad?”

Prompt: Suggestion

Characters: Loki, Circe, and Spencer Sunseri (continuation from prompt Transition)

Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar

Word count: 113

“What took you so long,” Spencer grinned. “I got your suit and. . .”

“Spence. . .I don’t know if I really feel like swimming. . .”

Circe slid back her chair and stabbed at the computer monitor. It snapped to black.

“It would be good for you.” She looked Loki in the eye as she stood. “BOTH of you.”

Loki sighed.

“I don’t really feel like playing swimsuit model. . .”

Circe smiled and ran her hand along his abdomen.

“No one’s telling you to be a swimsuit model,” she chuckled, turning her full attention to the unborn fetus. “And no one’s going to force you to exercise. It’s just a SUGGESTION.”

Prompt: Independence

Characters: Loki Sunseri (follows Prompt Suggestion)

Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar

Word count: 97

“You know,” Spencer’s voice dropped to a whisper, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He gave Loki a mischievous smile.

“I know,” Loki offered. “But you already brought my trunks so. . .”

“Yes!”

“. . .I’ll go in a while, ok?”

Spencer grinned and sat in the chair next to his father.

“You don’t have to wait for me.” Spencer moved to the edge of the chair, eager yet still hesitant.

“Look,” Loki gestured to the pool with the nod of his head, “there’s another boy. Go introduce yourself and have some fun.”

Drabbles: Prompt 039, 049, 025 and 023

Mon, 05 May 2008 15:31:28 GMT

PROMPT 039 Taste

Characters: Percy Beaker

Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar

Warning: none

Word Count: 95

He refilled the cup and took a long drink. It didn’t give as sharp a bite now that he was more than a few cups in. He turned on his heel and felt the world spin ever so lightly. As long as it kept him buzzed, he didn’t care how it tasted.

He watched Lazlo chatting with some girl. Laughing and flirting.

Percy smiled and took another drink. Lazlo was really on a streak. First, there was that girl in her underwear and now this one?

“Go for it,” he yelled to the pair, laughing.

PROMPT 049 Club
Characters: Serf (Abe) and Helot (Al), Benjamin
Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar
Warnings: none
Word Count: 101

“Benjamin,” Serf greeted his next client with a big hug. Benjamin loved the attention almost as much as he loved watching.

“Helot is available, right?,” he asked, his hands lingering over Serf’s back.

“Yes, definitely. He’s waiting upstairs,” Serf motioned to the staircase.

“Oh, I was hoping we could enjoy the great outdoors,” Ben frowned.

“Outdoors. . .well, I think that could be arranged. Why don’t you have a seat while I get Helot.”

Serf found his brother upstairs, the room meticulously prepped per Benjamin’s instructions.

“His royal hindASS wants to go outside,” Serf snorted.

Helot fingered his leather dog collar.

“So can I take this off?”

PROMPT 25 Strangers

Characters: Shelby Spacey, Percy Beaker

Fandom: sims 2 Peculiar

Warnings: none

Word Count: 102

She lit the bonfire then set about checking the levels on the kegs. Fresh drink in hand, she stood by the fire and watched it slowly devouring the tinder.

Behind her, strangers talked and laughed, making drunken connections. Shelby took another sip and turned at the sound of someone loudly laughing.

It was the drummer from the band. Shelby laughed along with him as he made a joke at his friend’s expense.

“HEY,” he caught sight of Shelby and moved toward her.

“Jazzy said you made this.” He held up his cup. “You made this?”

Shelby nodded.

“My compliments to the chef!”

PROMPT 23 Lovers
Characters: Gunnar Roque, Lee Lewis
Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar
Warnings: None
Word count: 104

". . .go to the photobooth?," Lee smirked.

Gunnar wasn't listening.  He was watching over Lee's shoulder. Watching the form of a guy as he slowly drew closer to where they stood.

Percy.  They'd had some fun times before. Before he had to go and get an uptight boyfriend. Gunnar licked his lips. He still looked good though, despite the rumors he'd had a few kids.

"Gunnar." Lee snapped his fingers in Gunnar's face.  Gunnar scowled and grabbed Lee's hand, twisting it behind his body.  Lee smirked and gasped as Gunnar grabbed his waist band and pulled him close.

"You want to take a picture, huh?"

Drabbles: Table 4: 006 Hours and 007 Days

Fri, 02 May 2008 19:02:55 GMT

4th table
Prompt 006 Hours
Original fic (continuing my stories from the Reaper, first one here)
WC: 95

"This," she flipped the top sheet from the stack and held it up for the room, "is your time sheet. You are responsible for tracking your hours as well as your pick-ups."

She put the form onto a different stack as she continued.

"Now there will be times when a scheduled pick-up will NOT got as planned. In the event of a derivation," she snapped another sheet into the air, "you will need to produce an Incident Report. Each Incident Report must be filled out in triplicate and be attached to a completed for six-sixty-six. . ."

4th table
Prompt 007 Days
Original fic (continuing the Reaper series)
WC 93

He zoned out as she continued.

It had been three LONG days of orientation with the promise of two more to come.

He dangled his pen above the stack of sheets and dropped it again and again. Small balck specks soon littered the margin.

Like sprinkles. . .on ice cream.

". . .in the event of a cataclysmic event. . ."

Cataclysmic. . .there's a word you don't hear as often as you'd like.

The pen rose and fell tapping out an illegible morse code f tiny black specks.

Poppy seeds. . .on a bagel. . .why din't I have breakfast. . .

Drabbles: Table 4: 002 Middles and 030 Death

Thu, 01 May 2008 22:04:28 GMT

Two drabbles, but NOT together since that really does take the challenge out of it, huh?

Table 4: Prompt 002 Middles
No fandom/original stuff
No warnings
WC: 88

She opened the bag and dumped the mini sandwich cookies onto a napkin. One by one she separated the chocolate wafers from their white cream middles.

"What are you doing?"

She held a tiny cookie to her lips and blew. A small missle of cream launched from the hole in the wafer's center. Her companion laughed and ducked.

"Gross."

"I know," she replied. She added the now creamless cookie to the pile and wiped her finger tips on the edge of the napkin. "The cream's the worst part."

--------------------------

Table 4: Prompt 030 Death
No fandom/original stuff
No warnings
WC: 100

"Damnit to hell," he muttered, holding a lone latex glove in his hand. He fingered the box, hoping to find a mate.

"Great, just great." he slapped at the empty box and rummaged in the dish drainer for a wooden spoon.

Donning the lone latex glove, he hooked the cloak from the dye bath and held it up for examination.

"Not yet," he sighed, jabbing the cloth back under the black water.

Don't fear the reaper. . .

"What NOW?"

He flung the spoon down and opened the cellphone.

"Yeah."

"This is Samantha from Styx Sickle and Scythe. Your scythe is ready."

Get your RANT on.

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 15:23:57 GMT

(warning, I'm about to rant about something that may seem trivial and bizarre. You have been warned).

THIS, Playtex bra commerical PISSES ME OFF. (work safe)

I know, I know. You're thinking what the hell is my problem. It's just some women yapping about their bras.

Well, it's the last woman in the ad, or rather what she SAYS that pisses me off.

"Gravity is no longer my enemy. But brownies still are."

WHAT THE FUCK!!!

What the hell do her eating habits have ANYTHING to do with tit slings?

OOOOHHHH, I get it. It's because she's the FAT chick, right. Oh, forgive me. She's the full figured/plus sized woman. *scowls*

NONE of the other women mention their dietary issues. They do make some dumb comment like their bra is "yummy" (yeah, I'm not sure what that's about) but NONE of them mention any kind of love/hate relationship with baked goods (or any food stuff for that matter).

Except for The Fatty (who, I'd like to point out, is NOT fat).

Being The Fatty, she'd better have a goddamn good reason for the way she looks, a good EXCUSE for all the extra fabric she needs for her mammoth mammaries.

"Tee hee, I'm sorry I'm such a disgusting pig. But I promise, I hate every crumb of food I put in my mouth and, really, honest to gosh, I lose sleep over how repulsive I am to you. OH, this bra is nice, too."

FUCK YOU, Playtex. I don't care if your bra was two attractive men who would walk around with me all day, gently holding my tits in their silk gloved hands, I wouldn't buy it.

Someone should take your fucking bra and lash you with it. I call dibs.

Drabble: Table 3, Prompt 017: Lust

Wed, 02 Apr 2008 15:31:45 GMT

Characters: Klara Vonderstein, Marie Curious

Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar

Warnings: none

Word Count: 108

“MOM!”

Klara winced at Marie’s yelling and the sound of a baby crying.

“Ooops,” Marie grimaced. She gestured and Klara followed.

“Shhh,” Marie coaxed as she entered the room. “I’m sorry I woke you.” She lifted the baby to her shoulder and patted his back until he quieted.

“Say hi to Klara,” Marie spoke to the baby while looking at Klara. “This is my nephew, Edwin.”

Klara nodded absently at the pair, her attention drawn to the movement outside the window. She watched him climb out of the pool, water glistening in his chestnut hair, swim trunks slung low under his full belly.

“He is beautiful,” she offered.

Drabbles: (table 2) 035 Moon, (table 3) 023 Lost and 047 Years

Fri, 28 Mar 2008 14:25:42 GMT

Prompt: (table 2) 035 Moon, (table 3) 023 Lost

Characters: Percy Beaker, Pascal Curious

Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar

Warnings: None

Word Count: 92

Hearing Pascal kicking dirt over the fresh puddle of vomit, Percy smirked. He couldn’t help it. It was so Pascal.

Stretched out on the ground, he stared at the moon. This used to terrify me, he thought, and started to laugh. Pascal crouched beside him.

“You ok?”

He didn’t look at him, just nodded through his laughter. Pascal sat but said nothing. So Pascal. Percy rapidly opened and closed his eyes until his head was spinning, then closed them and focused on the darkness behind his lids.

“I’m so lost,” he sighed.

Prompt (table 3): 047 Years

Characters: Sharla Ottomas, David Ottomas

Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar

Warnings: none

Word Count: 129

“It’s getting better.” She sighed as she switched the receiver to her other ear. “I think Sissy’s really helping. Everyone loves her. You should see her, David, she’s so cute.”

“I will, I’ll be there for Tommy’s transition. . .”

“She probably won’t still be a kitten by then,” Sharla offered. “And you’ve never seen Dora either.”

“I know,” David sighed. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with all this, Shar.”

“I wish you were here,” she admitted. “I think dad’s. . .this one woman’s been around a lot and with no gran. . .”

“He hasn’t done that in years, Shar.” David wondered who he was really trying to convince.

“But this woman?” Sharla countered.

“Yeah,” David agreed. “Just don’t leave them alone together. EVER.”

“Yeah,” Sharla sighed, “I know.”

Weekend Funny

Mon, 24 Mar 2008 15:06:58 GMT

Sunday evening, my sister WON. She WON the funny with this:

(discussion was about "old fogey" experssions like "make water")

Mother: And "move your bowels". Where are they moving to?
Sister: Oh, just down the street.
Me: Yeah, they left a forwarding address and this note, "Dear Jen, I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me."
Sister: "I have some shit I have to work out."

Now you KNOW you've won the funny when people are laughing so hard, there's no sound. Just the occassional gasp for air. My sister and mother were weeping from the humor while I nearly made water in my pants.

THEN, as if her victory was in any doubt, we got into a different discussion (while still occassionally snickering over the previous volley) about how we were going to spend the small windfall we each got (from my grandmother's will).

The typical "bubble gum and records" was put out but then we started rattling off all the weird things my grandparents owned (like old lady babuskas, flushing toilet banks, a horde of yogurt cups, a lawn chair lounge, yard decorations, and the word "davenport" even cropped up).

I thought I was going to win with "veggies in bottles" (my grandfather had a collection of freaky veggies grown into bottles--said veggies were, once they'd grown to the size of their bottle homes, pickled and proudly displayed in the front window of his trailer). But then, my sister "no no"ed me and said:

Giant tryke.

Cue more hilarity.

"I'll get a giant tryke with an ooga horn. I'll ride it to your mom's house."

I told her if she did, I wanted a picture.

(my grandparents had an adult sized tricycle, as youngsters, this Giant Tryke was better than a trip to Disney World. One kid would sit on the giant fat ride seat and peddle like hell while another sat or stood in the basket. When the Giant Tryke hit the skinny speed bumps, the whole shebang caught some MAJOR air. We'd also attempt to pop wheelies on the Giant Tryke and take curves at high rates of speed to get the rear end up on one wheel. Needless to say, all of these activities were frowned upon by our grandmother. The only thing that would make her more mad than blantant Giant Tryke abuse was poking at tar bubbles--another activity we loved)

I'm really surprised the nurses didn't ask us to leave. We aren't known for our quiet demeanors and heart patients probably shouldn't get that worked up.

Drabble: 05 Amused and 011 Cranky

Fri, 07 Mar 2008 20:21:08 GMT

Table 3, prompts 05 Amused and 011 Cranky

Characters: Frances Worthington III, Daniel Pleasant
Fandom: Sims2 Peculiar
Warnings: none
Word count: 115

(this is taken from a larger, in progress, piece)

Daniel stretched to reach the canopy frame. Frances watched him, thinking about his diary, and smiled.

“What are you grinning about?,” Daniel snorted. “Little help?” Daniel nodded to the bedside table. Frances, still staring at Daniel, absentmindedly handed him the first item his hand landed on.

“What am I going to do with that?”

Frances looked at the tiny screwdriver in his hand and laughed.

“Yeah, hilarious.” Daniel attempted to hold the canopy frame together with one hand while reaching for the correct screwdriver. Frances tossed the useless screwdriver to the floor and handed Daniel what he needed. “Gee, thanks,” Daniel scoffed. He waved to the end table. “I need a screw.”

Frances

barked laughter.

Drabble: Table 3: 035 Encounter

Thu, 06 Mar 2008 00:01:54 GMT

Table 3: Prompt 035: Encounter

Characters: Paul Tech 9 Pollinator, three unnamed military officers
Fandom: Sims2 Peculiar
Warnings: none
Word Count: 120

They didn't stand. They didn't salute. They just sat. Sat and watched. Sat and watched as he moved toward the single chair opposite them at the table.

The chair groaned under his weight, deliberately flimsy and uncomfortable. He waited.

No introductions. No polite acknowledging nods. No faux courtesy. Expressions as smooth as the poured concrete floor, blank as the darkened monitors behind them.

"Status?"

"On schedule," he replied.

One nodded. Another smiled ever so slightly. Neither spoke.

"Excellent." The lone speaker rose, his chair moaning relief as he moved around the end of the table. Paul rose to face his superior. "You are a valuable asset, Commander Pollinator," he nodded ever so slightly and Paul returned the gesture. "That is all."

This still weirds me out.

Sat, 09 Feb 2008 03:07:01 GMT

Our answering machine was broken (my wife ripped the phone jack part off accidentally) for the longest time, so I told those people who call me (which are very few, thankfully) that if they REALLY needed to get a hold of me to just let the phone ring A LOT and I'd pick it up. That is, if they didn't feel like leaving a message on my cell phone (which I hate even MORE than the regular phone).

So about a week ago, the phone rang and rang and rang and I was just about to answer it when it stopped ringing. I knew it wasn't my wife calling (he'll let that sucker ring thirty times, he's stubborn like that) so my next thought was my parents or sister had forgotten about the cell phone and tried to call. Then, for some freaky reason, I thought "what if they called to tell me my grandmother died?"

Morbid thought, right?

*cue ominous music*

Fast forward to last night. I'm sitting at my computer, it's around the time my wife normally calls to tell me he's leaving work. So when the phone rings, I automatically answer it (before it gets up to double digit rings, since the answering machine is now fixed).

I think you see where this is going, right?

It's my father and from the tone of his voice I know right away it's not merely a social call (that and he didn't immediately ask me how my computer was--yes, he checks up on my computer). I don't know how my father always gets stuck with the bad jobs. When it comes to death, he's your man. He's taken all the ailing pets to the vet (alone) to get them The Big Shot, he's the go to guy when you need a dead pet buried (when they die in the house), and he's always the one who has to make The Announcement (be it for a dead pet or in this case, dead relative). Poor guy.

The minute he delivers his morbid message, I immediately think about the morbid thought I had not a week earlier.

I was fine, all calm and cool (again, my father has that effect, perhaps that's why he's the Death Announcer for our family) until I remembered my morbid thought. THEN, like the boob I am, I TELL my father about it. It definitely took him by surprise, which took me by surprise, which made the whole phone call all the more weird and uncomfortable.

After a pause that seemed as long as my now deceased grandmother's life (80 some odd years) I figure out something more appropriate to say, he responds and then we get down to the viewing/funeral discussion and all that that entails.

Half an hour later, I'm on the phone with my sister (who was at my parents but needed time to get to her house, where she could feel free to be as loud and crude as she wants to be--there's no bawdy talk happening in the parental abode). We discussed the main topic of the evening, rehashing dates and times and who's going to be there and all that (and yes, that included mocking the relatives we don't like--don't give me that look, you ALL do that). Then we just slide comfortably right into one of our normal conversations, she giving me dvd rental advice (mental note: rent "Deadwood") and both of us trying to one up the other with funny stories and witty one liners. I get the feeling she just wanted to run her yap for a while but I'm sure she'd never admit it.

So in true hillbilly fashion, my grandmother will returned to the ground in Punxsutawney, Pa. YES, THE Punxsutawney made famous by Phil, the weather predicting groundhog. And only mere days after his latest prediction. It's just a shame she won't be sporting one of her babushka's and permanent press polyester slacks from Blair. I'm pretty sure the funeral home has standards. They didn't dress my grandfather in his "we must be somewhere behind Mt. Rushmore" t-shirt and red suspenders, so grandma's just going to have to go without those babuska's she (and our late dog, Merlin) were so fond of (he used to eat them).

But I know I'll bring it up at the funeral, that is if my sister doesn't beat me to the punchline.

Drabbles: Prompt 011 Claim and 041: Pounce

Fri, 08 Feb 2008 16:56:45 GMT

Prompt 011: Claim and 041: Pounce

Characters: Vidcund Curious, Piquant Pollinator, Cupid (cat)

Fandom: Sims 2: Peculiar

Warnings: none

Word count: 132

“Aww,” Piquant giggled as Cupid licked her nose and rubbed his cheeks against her face. “Kisses.”

“No,” Vidcund countered, more than a hint of disgust in his voice. “He’s scent marking you.”

Piquant and Cupid continued to rub their faces against each other, Piquant’s laughter mixing with Cupid’s purring.

“Who’s a baby?” She watched Vidcund out the corner of her eye as she continued talking to Cupid. “Who’s muma’s boy?”

“Ugh,” Vidcund moaned, “who’s going to barf from the baby talk.”

“Ooh, I taught him a trick.” Piquant put Cupid on the floor. “Cupid,” she patted her chest to get his attention, “Up.” She opened her arms and the cat jumped against her chest. She held him to her, laughing.

“Oh, great,” Vidcund rolled his eyes, “encourage them to pounce on us.”

Drabble: Prompt 025: Forgive

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 20:43:56 GMT

Prompt 025: Forgive

Characters: Piquant Pollinator, Vidcund Curious

Fandom: Sims 2: Peculiar

Warnings: none

Word count: 95

She woke with a start. Vidcund stirred beside her, inching closer, spooning her against him.

“You ok?,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” she stared at the wall, eyes welling. She swallowed hard and sighed.

“You sure?”

The memory rarely invaded her dreams but when it did, it always had the same effect. Tears seeped from between her tightly closed eyes and she tried to keep her breathing even.

She was relieved when Vidcund rolled her to him and began openly weeping as her head settled into the crook of his shoulder.

“Do you think he forgives me?”

Drabble: Prompt 015: Devious

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 20:11:13 GMT

015: Devious

Characters: Mortimer Goth

Fandom: Sims 2: Peculiar

Warnings: none

Word count: 97

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary. I just wanted to tell him thanks.”

Mortimer nodded.

“I was picking his brain, trying to get the mixture just right. His suggestion worked like a charm.” He laughed. “Like bad weeds!”

He switched the phone from one ear to the other.

“Yes, I’m still looking for one of those.” He grinned and ran his hand along the countertop. “Really,” his eyes widened.

He grinned.

“Oh, yeah, I completely understand. I have plenty to keep me busy while I wait. Hey, if If haven’t said it before, congratulations. To both of you.”

Drabbles: Prompt 031 Kinky and 021 Lovers

Mon, 04 Feb 2008 20:07:58 GMT

(031) Kinky and (021) Lovers

Characters: random sim teens, Albert Curious

Fandom: Sims 2 Peculiar

Warnings: none

Word count: 93

“I heard he has two lovers.” The girl looked around to make sure no one was listening then quickly added. “Both guys.”

Her companions giggled, a few even blushed. She waited for them to get quiet before continuing.

“They all have kinky sex together, too.” She waited for everyone to calm down again before delivering the tastiest morsel. “And one of them is Marie’s older brother.” One girl gasped audibly and they all giggled louder.

“Ladies,” Albert looked up from the novel he was reading. “The point of STUDY hall is to STUDY.”

Drabble: Prompt 045: Time

Mon, 04 Feb 2008 16:24:15 GMT

(045) Time

Characters: me, my wife, random anti-choice demonstrator

Fandom: non-fic
Warnings: “my wife” is male, so don’t get confused with the pronouns

Word count: 102

We paced the corner, watching the pedestrian and auto traffic, waiting for patients in need of an escort. I checked my phone. Almost time to go home.

“I want to talk to you. . .”

With a synchronized sigh, my wife and I turned our backs on him.

“. . .since we’re all out here together, I want to get to know you. . .”

I rolled my eyes and my wife stomped his feet against the cold.

“. . .I love babies. . .”

I opened my mouth, releasing a large belch in response, making my wife double over in laughter.

Drabble: Prompt 05 Spirit

Fri, 01 Feb 2008 14:10:23 GMT

(05) Spirit

Characters: un-named mother and young daughter

Fandom: none

Warnings: none

Word Count: 124

“I want to go there.” She jabbed the car window, her fingertip making an audible thump.

“Where?”

“There,” her finger thumped the window again, “The Sprite Store.”

Sprite store? Her mother had never heard of such a place. She looked from the slow crawl of the traffic to where her daughter was pointing. A dry cleaner, a convenience store, and a wine and spirits store. She started to laugh.

“You’re not old enough to go there.”

“I am too, I have Sprites at home. And I want more.”

“That’s not “sprites”,” her mother gently corrected, unable to stop her laughter, “It’s “spirits”. That’s a store for adults, so they can buy adult drinks.”

“Like beer?”

Her mother nodded.

“You sure they don’t have Sprites?”

Snippet: Sims related (teaserish and not finalized)

Wed, 23 Jan 2008 17:26:09 GMT

He scowled as he entered the house. Damn phone ringing, both of them just sitting there. . .

He sighed and rubbed his temple.

"Look who's back from the salt mines," Albert tipped down the edge of the paper and smiled.

Pascal growled, snatching the phone from its cradle.

"Hello." It was more of a command than a salutation.

"Nice to hear from you, too," his brother's voice replied. Pascal sighed.

"Sorry." Pascal cleared his throat and tried again. "Hello, Vid."

"Un-knot those knickers for a second.  Are you ready for what I'm about to tell you?"

Pascal rolled his eyes. "Yes," he sighed.

"Guess who's getting married," Vidcund giggled. Pascal couldn't remember ever hearing his brother giggle. He smiled as he realized what his brother was saying.

"No? You?"

Vidcund laughed in reply.

"Well it's about time," Pascal mocked. "You can't let Piquant get away. She's the only chick who can put up with you."

"Don't I know it," Vidcund snorted. "So, what's new and exciting on your end?"

"You didn't hear?"

"What?  Lazlo's abduction?," Vidcund blew a raspberry.  "Old news.  I got that phone call this morning, probably before you."

Pascal looked toward the couch.  Albert turned the page of his paper while Percy rummaged through the cast off sections.

"Where's the lifestyle. . ." Percy looked up as Albert shook the section at him. ". . .man, hurry up or I'm going to read over your shoulder." He leaned into Albert, craning his neck to see the paper. Albert shielded the print from view, laughing.

Pascal walked outside to the porch, closing the door behind him.

"Percy's pregnant," he whispered.

"What? Why are you whispering. . ."

"Percy's pregnant," he repeated, only slightly louder.

"No. . .two abductions in one night. . .dad must be having an orgasm."

"He wasn't abducted last night," Pascal wished he hadn't even brought it up.  He squeezed his eyes shut against the sun glare and rubbed his aching temples. "It was a while back."

Vidcund whistled. "That's a new one."

"Yeah, not really how it works, huh?"

"He's ok?"

"Yes. . .and no." Pascal sat on the porch steps. "Paul's coming over to check him but. . .," Pascal looked up to see Paul coming down the street.

"But?" He could hear the annoyance in Vidcund's voice. "Pascal?"

"Vid, I have to go. I'll call you back later."

"Pascal?"

"It's fine, Vid. Paul's here now, I have to go."

He heard Vidcund sigh as he disconnected the call.  Pascal stood up and watched Paul approaching. Paul, spotting Pascal, waved. Pascal waved back. He took off his glasses and reached for his shirt tale before realizing he was still in uniform.  Damn suit. Damn job. He thought about his meeting earlier that day, the questions they had asked him, the assignment he'd been handed.

"We realize there could be a conflict of interests here," his direct superior offered.  His boss's boss didn't make eye contact, choosing instead to finger a folder on the table in front of him.

"But you have to remind yourself, how well do you know Flight Commander Paul Tech 9 Pollinator?," he said, not looking up.

Pascal hadn't replied.

"It's a simple reconnaissance mission."  He pulled a photograph from the folder and pushed it across the table. "We know you've already met him, at Commander Pollinator's wedding."

Pascal glanced at the photo, a grainy black and white shot through a window. He and Mortimer were laughing while his brother flailed his arms, recounting some amusing story Pascal couldn't now recall.

"We just need to know his relationship to the Commander.  There have been some. . .," his direct superior sucked a tooth and breathed out through his nose, ". . .accounting irregularities."

The top boss took the photo back and slapped the file shut.

"Some equipment fell off a truck and we think your friend Commander Pollinator might have given it the shove."

"Hello, Paul, come on in," Pascal opened the door and Paul followed him inside.  Percy was standing just inside the door, at the base of the staircase, Albert's voice calling down to him.

"I'll be down in a moment. . ."

Percy turned and looked from Pascal to Paul and back to Pascal. Pascal smiled.

"Percy, hello," Paul nodded to Percy. Percy blinked and shook his head slightly before approaching Paul.

"Hey," he shook Paul's outstretched hand. Pascal put his hand on Percy's shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"I need to change, do you want me to wait until Albert comes down?"

Percy shook his head. Pascal kissed his cheek before moving toward the bedroom. Once inside he stripped off his suit and stepped into his khakis, fastening his belt as he moved into the the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and swabbed his stomach, back and armpits then applied fresh deoderant. He wanted a shower but there was no time.  He crossed back into the bedroom, grabbed his shirt and used it to polish his glasses. Albert's footfalls echoed overhead. Pascal listened to them on the staircase, heard Albert greet Paul. He replaced his spectacles and pulled the shirt over his still aching head.  What was Paul going to tell them?

Drabble: Prompt 050 whipped cream

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 13:09:13 GMT

Prompt 050 whipped cream

Characters: disgruntled cashier, desperate customer
Fandom: none
Warnings: mildly crude humor
Word count: 148

8 p.m., February 14

She took mental inventory as she scanned and bagged.

Greeting card. Check. Wait for it. . .

"Do you have a pen I can borrow?"

The Bic in her back pocket dug into her ass.

"Sorry, no."

Cheap little stuffed toy. Check. Who spreads for a $2.99 stuffed monkey holding a. . .oh god. . ."I WUV YOU" heart.

She lobbed it into the bag. See you at the thrift store.

Whipped cream. Wait, this is Cool Whip. Cool Whip? They must be out of the spray stuff.

Hershey's syrup. At least he's buying brand name. And in the can. Old school.

Ahh, last but certainly not least.

Condoms. Big check. Keep the VD out of Valentine's Day. Not Magnums, either. Nice to see someone is honest with themselves.

She gave the total and made the change. He took his bag, in a hurry to leave.

"Have a nice night!"