AND she’s started smoking pot. That’ll teach the Powers that Be, she thought while finally exhaling the wicked weed and then feeling the Devil pull her heart out through her belly button. All Orange, she thinks. “All Orange!” she cries, looking at the thing wriggling and writhing in front of her like a Red Incubus Baby. RIB she decided to call it on the spot as it was dropped to the ground and walked away on its own energy. Into the night — it would always be there from now on, she knew. Waiting…
There it is again and 10 times larger!
—–
He liked this particular apt. because he could keep an eye on Newton’s boat out in the harbour, a sim-skipper. He knew that if the unique ship was gone for any length of time, then it could come back with an outsider, which might be bad, really bad. He had too much invested here in this Gaston, formerly Mimosa. Pot was basically free, Philip’s pills were plentiful. It was perfect for the criminal duo. Shady dealings all around. Laggy but — small price to pay. And now he had Hucka. But did he really? She didn’t have the best reaction to that pot he provided her night before last, he continued to ponder. And she didn’t call last night like she promised.
She could figure a way to get out which would also be bad, leave a potential trail for others to follow, both out *and* in. He’ll have to review with her the collage and the pushing and the arrival at the jail. Casey One Hole, PHEH. He’s still around too, he knew.
“Marion, I’m *bored*. Let’s go do some drugs or something. Sex, drugs, rock–”
“Don’t say it,” Marion cut him off. Strum and Drum was playing one last time at the Rhino tonight and Hucka D. hadn’t called about a potential date. And it was protocol in this Sadie Hawkins kind of town for her to do so, females rolling the dice instead of the men in affairs of the heart. But… she said her heart was stolen over at the pool after she finished off his joint. Maybe he should have warned her about the potency, and that he’d been smoking so long that it took a powerful strain to do anything for him any more. Maybe — he looked over — maybe he was stuck with Philip after all.
“Okay,” he said. “But I still would like to drop by the concert sometime.”
“Will Levon be there?” the professional pill popper on the couch asked.
“You bet he will.” And he asked him to keep an eye out for Hucka too and to call if he sees or hears anything, he thought privately. She *did* leave the first part of the gig for a while the other night, the Ketchup Tom composed half which involved a lot of noise, she said afterwards. But she seemed to enjoy the transfigured “Jackie Blue” enough to end; asked a lot of questions about its origin and the Ozark Mountain Daredevils and then the mountain they were named after. “Big Sandy,” she said at one time about the current band. “They said they were from Big Sandy.”
“Yeah?” Marion said back. “It’s a place. People have to come from places and go to other places,” he said matter of factly, adding a smile.
“There’s a boat out in the harbour there,” she then said, which immediately made him think of Newton’s boat but which turned out to be much larger. And more complicated.
“3 sims!” he cried when she told him the dimensions of the thing. An internal sim-skipper, he dwelled about afterwards, complete unto itself. *Danger-ous*. But also completely fascinating.
“Philip?” he said in the present, hatching a new idea. “How would you like it if I bought us 2 golden tickets to visit the mainland?” *Or*, he then thought… hmm, how *exactly* did *Strum and Drum* get here, hmph? He knew about the Volkswagen Bug of course; it was still parked half on the sidewalk outside the club. But… it couldn’t just *come over* by itself from the mainland. Not without some kind of magical aid.
Daffy Duck had just blown up Uncle Scrooge with a rigged 100 dollar bill. “Say what?” Philip said, not breaking his stare from the TV and the blackened duck, suddenly realizing he was hungry.
Sunklands 