Day Ten

Catriona and Nooreen return from their night out. They're both very tired, so they must be quite looking forward to a good sleep when they get back in.



But Nooreen has to go to work. I think we can expect a surge in the mortality rates in the nearest hospital.



Catriona goes straight to the land of sleepy-byes, dreaming of herself again. I've noticed that all the Crombies dream about themselves a lot. Curious.



Pyke is dreaming about Scott, the gold digging hussy.



It's Tucker again! And he's dug a hole in the front. I don't think we can have two Gateways to Hell so this will just have to be the Pit of Despair.

I'm not sure why the dog is angry about the front door. Not stylish enough? Not white enough? Who is this dog and why is it so concerned about my front door appearing up-market enough to wave in the faces of all the passing plebeians?



Jack leaves his salad days as a golf caddy and moves on upwards to the respectful position of a petrol station attendant. Not quite sure how that works as a career move.

'Hey Jack, come over here.'

'Yes?'

'We've all been really impressed by your work as a golf caddy, son, and we'd like to promote you, we were particularly inspired by your handling of the lightning strike business-'

'BOOOOONES!'

'Quite. Anyway, we're thinking you're ready for a higher position.'

'Oh, wow! Do I get to serve drinks from the minibar or something? Or reception work for the club? What are my duties.'

'No, no, no, we've got you a job as an attendant at the local petrol station. Here's Gus, he's your new boss.'

'I don't understa-'

'COME HERE AND LEARN HOW TO PUT A NOZZLE IN A HOLE.'

'I don't think I want to.'

'HARD CHEESE.'



'I sure am going up in the world.'

Jack stops playing pool and decides he really needs a bath to wash the grass stains off (for the last time... sniff) and I spot my chance to get that damn bath fixed at last. Hop to it, Jack!



'Tighten, you son of a bitch, tighten!'

The hydraulic force is so strong it punches a hole straight through Jack's shoulder. Thankfully, it wasn't his favourite one.



Jack gives the taps a few hefty whacks with his spanner as if it might actually help.



'Why do these malformed claws fail me so?!'



Success! Glorious success! Jack's bathroom is restored to its former camp dinginess.



Loves his bubbles this one.



This picture makes me think of the Petshop Boys. Thought I'd just throw that out there.

Jack is excited about making spaghetti, which is a good thing because that's all that anyone makes in this household. This one variance on the theme of pasta, tomato, and cheese will sustain these people to the point of malnutrition. Pyke is quite happy to stand around with her eyes closed.



Jack is serious about maintaining his combine harvester approach to eating at the table.



The microwave is broken! So THAT'S why Jack was using the stove! It's probably related to that 'flames and smoke' incident he caused the other day. Well, he can fix this too!

(Note: the keypad on the microwave has been blurred to protect its identity.)



Jack is fixing the terrible fire damage he's inflicted on the microwave... with a screwdriver? I find his thrust-and-wiggle technique leaves something to be desired. Like technique.



'Hey, a cocoa pop!'

*munch*

'Man, this is too hard, I'm going to give up!'



Pyke makes sharp comment on Jack's cooking skills.



'I burn food because I like it burnt! It gives it a smoky flavour! And there's something about the gentle, dulcet tones of the fire alarm that I think enhances the dining experience. But let's not talk about that when there are so many more interesting things to discuss.'



JACK, THAT IS NOT POLITE.



Jack's behaviour does not improve.



Pyke distracts Jack with an interesting discourse on the latest stilettos in Vogue.

Works like a charm.



'Pyke, I've got a crazy idea: let's fry some eggs!'



'FUCK YOU, YOUR EGGS, AND ALL YOUR FUCKING COOKING OIL. FUCKITY FUCK FUCK FUCKNESS.'

Jack is visibly heartbroken.



The founder of the Society for People With Scary Eyes is trying to get Nooreen again. This time she is in, so I click yes. I also make note of the sim's name this time. This guy is called Amin Sims (and the desirer of Pyke's affections was called Ashlee Lind, not Alice. I think we'll stick with Alice though. All the female computer-generated sims in this game have names that usually suit porn starlets).



'Oh, hi Amin, yeah she's here, I'll just go get her.'

JACK, THAT IS NOT APPROPRIATE.

'The back of your head is like a beautiful lighthouse that draws the ship of my soul to its golden lamplight.'



Pyke, you've got to get out of this habit of dumping the receiver on the floor.

She decides to 'lounge' on the couch and eventually falls asleep.



'Hello, Amin, I'd love to join the society. It would be wonderful to meet others with scary eyes. We could swap stories and have staring contests! It would be great.'



'My eyes once ripped a hole in the wing of a plane I was on and we had to make an emergency landing. No, seriously! Hang on a sec, I'll just look in the direction of your house.'

'That's very amusing, Nooreen, but-' *click - brrr...*



*cue the X-files theme*



Jack goes to his new job, and with a new uniform! He smiles at the wall as he ambles to the carpool.



Nooreen strikes an action pose after the ruthless murder of Amin. I think she might be about to punch the phone, karate-style, to get rid of the evidence. She decides to have a bath instead.



But before she can do so I distract her into completing Jack's screwdriver waggling in the microwave. They're really quite gung-ho about this whole electronics repair business aren't they?



Nooreen fixes the microwave oven. Her pride of achievement is inspiring.

Catriona is in a dour mood, as usual. Hoping to cheer her up, I note that one of her wants is to buy new clothes. Happy to make any excuse to go downtown, I prompt Catriona to get herself belted up and heading out on the wide and open road.



A likely spot.





It looks more like a haunted mansion than a clothes shop. What should we get Catriona to wear? Hmm...



Catriona scopes the surrounds for clothes snipers, the deadly fashion assassins, second only to the Prada ninjas.



YES. ARISE, DAME CROMBIE OF RAINBOW COTTAGE.



'Hello there, shopkeep. I would like to buy this suit of armour which I have neatly folded into a nice pile.'

'Remember to iron it regularly!'

'You betcha!'



I managed to take this shot just before Catriona was impaled by a bright green glowing spear.

'Hello, fellow shopper, I was wondering what colour of shoes I should buy?'

'Gold like the sun!'

'I don't like the sun... I was thinking something red... something BLOOD red...'

'That sounds macabre.'



'I will give you a big bag of money if you would just angle your head up and to the side for a moment.'

Catriona eyes the woman's neck, waiting to strike.

'I want your jugular, your jugular, your jugularjugularjugularjugular-'



'Would you not prefer this fine soft drink?'

'No, I would not prefer this fine soft drink, I would prefer the delicious red liquid in your veins.'



'BLOOOOOOOOD...'

The woman walked away to look at the jeans selection.



Hey! It's another member of the Assortment family! He is a wood elf from the Lithlangilini Woods far north of the great mountains of Etherio, west of the great realm of Pongorongo and south of the terrible swamp Urkhor.

His name is Donald.

'Hello, would you like to join me in an adventure of epic proportions as we venture into the heart of darkness in a quest to save my brother from the Mad Wizard of the North-East?'



Catriona's reaction could not have one iota more of hatred and loathing for the creature in front of her.

But before we can further follow Catriona's wanderings of the clothes shop, the real-life Catriona reminds me that we have to be going to see a lecture on Alzheimer's Disease.



The cold, harsh claws of reality!



I can't save the game while on a community lot, so I order Catriona to return home. Ah, well.

Catriona returns and I save.

... Then I return! Hallelujah!

I quickly check what all the Crombies are doing to immerse myself in their insane universe. Jack's at work and Pyke is sleeping on the couch.



Nooreen uses the force.



My new stove! NOOOOOOOOO!



The sprinklers quickly douse the flames. Catriona seems quite pleased with jet-black toaster pastry she's just prepared so I suppose everything's OK. Pyke has woken up, once again being the only one for miles around completely oblivious to the fire.



This is Catriona shielding herself from the sprinklers. Which are off. And on the other side of the room.



Pyke's on the piano again and she sounds hella good! Her left hand's going over her right hand now. Fancy!



'I... I can't think!'



Nooreen, I think you should reconsider this. Go to some self-help group or something. Hurting yourself is not the answer!



Nothing beats the delicate, subtle flavour of charcoal.



Nooreen manages to prevent her body from inducing an emergency bout of projectile vomiting. Then she looks at the hand in a quizzical manner, obviously blaming it for introducing the contaminant to her remorseful gut.



Pyke warms her hands on the piano.

Huh?



'... and a CITY is an even BIGGER collection of buildings.'

'Ohhhhhh!'



'Anyway, I've got this patient who's amazingly rich, right, and he's got this amazing beach house on a tropical island, OK, and, well, long story short, you wouldn't mind if I, ah, borrowed one of your kidneys right?'



Best friends! Catriona feels Nooreen's money-lust has drawn them closer, as does Nooreen. As a sign of truce, she decapitates Pyke and leaves it at that.



Then changes her mind.

'GIVE ME YOUR KIDNEY!'

'Guys! I am trying to play the piano!'