Thursday, November 22, 2001

Thanksgiving Program

The Cast:

Ed & Carmen - Slum Lords From Hell

SimHubby - Since RealHubby is working, I’ve downloaded SimHubby from my Sims game for the occasion.  Doesn’t he look smart in those attractive clothes from Well Dressed Sim?  I thought so.

Captain Bob - Real Hubby’s father.

Loretta - Real Hubby’s mother.

Body - Liberty’s Mother

Man with Gun - Liberty’s Father

Byron (or at least his lawyer, Janet Eatme) - A sperm donor who has made it his life goal to pursue legal action, but has no real intent or motivation to be a real father.

Miss ATM - Byron’s neurotic, hypochondriac mother who believes in manipulating people and attempting to buy their love, but who often falls very short of her often extravagent promises.

Dawn - Charming young woman… a student at Berkley who likes to start trouble and can dish it out but can’t take it.

Richard Simmons - We all know him.  Love him or hate him, you’ve got to admit, he’s a bundle of energy.  Kind of like a wind-up toy wound too far.

Dart - A clingy, smelly,  hairy Neanderthal of a guy I went to college with back in 1992-1993.

Mr. B. - ??? No one’s quite SURE who Mr. B is.  Well, once person knows, but she’s not telling as she only talks to demons.



As our story opens, several guests are already seated at the wonderfully decorated table. The photographer for Martha Stewart Living, (Martha herself, of course!) has already snapped her photos and bid farewell. The doorbell rings and Liberty excuses herself in order to answer the door. Ah, it’s her landlords, Ed and Carmen.

“Ed! Carmen! So glad you could make it, why don’t you…”

Miss ATM jumps up from the table and rushes over to shake hands with the couple. “Oh, hello there, I’m Miss ATM. I’m Byron’s mother. Do you collect anything? I shop Ebay all of the time and I’d love to buy you something. No, no… let me. It makes me happy to do for others.”

Ed stifles a sob, his shoulder’s quaking and a large tear rolling down his cheek. “The…tree… is… gone.” He wipes the tear and bitterly adds, “It would have grown back, you know.”

“Oh, let me buy you another. I’ll have that shipped out today. In fact. I shipped it last Tuesday. Didn’t you get it? Well, it must be the mail service. You know how they are. Because, as you know, if I said I shipped it last Saturday, I did, and so I did. Yep. I sent it on Friday, no doubt about it,” Miss ATM rambles.

Carmen, undaunted by Miss ATM’s sudden burst of generosity or Ed’s emotional display, searches the room with her bionic eye. When she does not catch sight of what she’s looking for, she clicks on her heat sensing equipment. Ahh… yes… behind the couch. Like a bat out of hell, she dashes towards the couch, leaps over it and gathers up poor, unsuspecting Jenica in her arms without any explanation then seats herself at the table, clinging to her victim like a spider to it’s prey.

“Er… Yes, well, have a seat, Ed,” Liberty says, then turns to close the door when the rest of her guests arrive: Dart and Mr. B. “Well, come right in, won’t you? We’re just about ready to get started.”

“Thanks for inviting me, Liberty. You gotta understand, where I come from, back in Swink, people don’t celebrate Thanksgiving. Well, they didn’t let me celebrate, anyhow. They always locked me in a closet. Hey? Can I give you a backrub?” Dart inquires, putting his stinky face altogether too close to Liberty’s.

“Shut up, Dart. No one’s gives a rats ass about some stupid, backwater, inbred town called Swink, ” Mr. B. growls.

“Er… maybe later Dart.” Liberty dodges.

After everyone is seated, Liberty seats herself next to SimHubby and smiles sweetly at her guests. “I thought it would be nice if we would go around the table and say a few words of what they’re thankful for.” She flashes her smile to SimHubby and insists, “You go first, sweetie.”

Carmen mutters, “If he gets to go first, I’m raising your rent $300.” Ed merely nods in agreement.

Like a deer caught in headlights, SimHubby simply sits there, crossing and uncrossing his arms and legs and sighing. But of course, “give thanks” is not a command this Sim understands. Suddenly, a thought bubble pops over his head and an image of the new “Love Tub” object pops into view and SimHubby says, “Gypo wode jee lofa nars. Maflika yopped-da himla crails.”

“Right, well, moving on,” Liberty says, looking rather flushed and distracted. “What about you… Bob? Loretta?”

In a quiet, rather meek voice, Captain Bob admits, “I’m thankful I was able to categorize and catalog all of the items in your pantry while you were answering the door. Next I’d like to go through your sock drawer and match them and perhaps catalog those, too. Oh, and I’m thankful Hubby finally has a paying job and we don’t have to support his lazy mooching ass.”

There’s a groan from across the room as the body slumped on the floor reaches up to rub at it’s track marks and moan, “These are not my track marks…” before passing out again.

Loretta grunts and says tersely, “I hardly have anything to be thankful for. You stole my baby boy away from me, forcing him to be a father to three children. He just shouldn’t have to grow up so fast, you know? The poor child. And look at this filthy place! I can’t see how you can stand all of the clutter. If you’d clean up the clutter, you’d be a lot happier, you know.”

“Oh, cut the apron strings already,” remarks a rather laid back looking Mr. B.

As Carmen looks around the place she slurs in her thick Latin American accent, “Yes, dees place reely look like sheet. I theenk you’re gonna hafta hire someone to clean it up.” She rubs her temples and her mind powers kick in. Liberty finds herself with an uncontrollable urge to clean.

Not to be outdone by Loretta’s terrific sob story, Dawn jumps right in. “Well, at least you didn’t get SPAM in your inbox. I got SPAM. HORRIBLE, ICKY SPAM and NOW my life is forever ruined and I am traumatized! I’ll bet you were planning on serving SPAM at this dinner, and I have PROOF. I’m going to pursue legal action! In fact, I’m going to get my lawyer right now.”

Miss ATM nods sagely, “Well, you should never EVER give out your real information to anyone. I don’t even let my son Byron have my real address, just in case. In fact, I won’t even tell people my real name. It’s just not safe. You should run at least fifteen programs to keep your computer safe from SPAM and DO NOT enable cookies. Well, or use AOL. Everyone knows AOL is safe.”

Dawn glares at Miss ATM and then stands up, pushing away from the table, “That’s IT! That was unsolicited advice and I’m reporting you for verbal SPAM!”

Just as Dawn stands up there is a huge flash and a puff of green smoke. Materializing from within the smoke is an evil wicked witch! “Did I hear someone’s looking for a lawyer?” she cackles insanely. “I’m Janet Eatme, Wicked Bitch at law. I represent Byron and am here to deliver some legal papers that you MUST SIGN. NOW. SIGN THEM. SIGN THEM, NOW!!”

“You need to come to ME with these problems,” Loretta gripes plaintively. “I am the mother, after all. It’s all about ME.” Bob merely pulls out a science fiction novel and begins to read, oblivious to the world.

“SIGN THEM! SIGN THEM!” Janet Eatme chants.

Richard Simmons, unable to contain himself any longer begins to bounce. A lot. “This food is just TERRIBLE! Do you really want to be Fat? There’s a Skinny Person (TM) hiding under there, I just know it. Throw out that Cool Whip, PUSH AWAY that greasy meat. Let that Skinny Person (TM) slough off that extra weight and live again!”

“Oh, that reminds me… I brought my own salad dressing,” Loretta casually comments, and pulls a packet of salad dressing out of her purse. “Fat free.”

Miss ATM nods sagely again, “Oh, I have to bring my own dressing, too. I can’t eat any of this. I’m allergic, you know. And it irritates my Lupus. And Cancer. And Gonorrhea. I really shouldn’t even be talking because I have TMJ and I could die from that you know. I could go at any time. None of you will ever know how precious life really is until you’re as sick as I am.”

“Are you ignoring me? Are you mad at me? Fine. Deny me,” Dart whines in an irritating voice. “You gotta understand, where I come from, no one ever lets me have a chance to talk. Hey guys? Guys?”


Mr. B. waves a hand at Janet Eatme and says, “Piss off you stupid family wrecker. If Byron wants to come himself, fine. YOU need to get the hell out of here.”

Janet Eatme dissolves into a squishy wet puddle. Liberty sighs and gripes, “Great, who’s going to clean that up?” Without further prompting, SimHubby stands up and a mop magically appears in his cartoonish hands. He mops up the gooey puddle and then the mop disappears. He stands there, arms crossing and uncrossing as he taps his foot impatiently or looks at his watch until Liberty finally commands, “Honey, sit down.”

Bob flips a page in his book.

Dawn whines, “But… there was SPAM… in… my…”

Mr. B picks Dawn up by the scruff of her neck and shakes her VERY hard. “Go away you fucking twit! No one wants to hear from you!” In one fluid motion he opens the door and tosses the whiney bitch out into oncoming traffic then slams the door shut.

Richard Simmons bounces some more, grabbing a waste bin and tossing away pies and cookies, cakes and frostings. “Ooh, none of this. No fatty thighs here. Nope nope. Move and grove! Work that fat off, yes indeed. Find that Skinny Person (TM) inside YOU!”

“Hey, guys? You know, back where I come from, in Swink, people are really skinny there. Except for me. I’m not skinny. But, you know, you gotta understand…”

It’s almost too much to handle. “GET OUT, Dart. Just GO!” Mr. B yells, then grabs up Richard Simmons and throws the bouncing ball of energy out into oncoming traffic. A high pitched scream is heard and then a dull thud.

Dart says, “Um, ok. I’m going now. G’night. Bye.”

Miss ATM, Loretta, Bob, SimHubby, Ed and the Body all wave goodbye to Dart. Carmen just glares.

“Ok, well, bye. I really gotta get to bed, anyhow. I’m really tired. Bye,” Dart mutters.

A ragingly drunken man stumbles in through the front door waving around a gun. He points it in the general direction of the Body, then stumbles back out the door again where he’s hit by oncoming traffic.

“I have rights, you know. I could hire a lawyer too,” Miss ATM whines. “I have the money. I’d hire one right this second but… my health couldn’t handle it. It’d just be too stressful and I have a weak heart…”

Liberty, shocked and dismayed at how poorly her Thanksgiving feast is going, slumps in her chair. Mr. B hands her a fluffy roll dripping with butter and the whole bowl of mashed potatoes. “Honey, ” he says, “If you wanna be fat, you be fat. You’re gorgeous in any shape or size.”

“Ok, well, I’m going now,” Dart mumbles.

“You know, you guys really shouldn’t have so meeny peepul inna house. Dere could be a fire,” Carmen comments. Ed nods and then says, “I’ll get that fixed on Tuesday. I’m sure I can clear all of these people out by then. I’m not sure which Tuesday, though. Maybe on the first of Octember.”

Sebastian comes running in with a can of black paint shrieking, “BARRACUDA!” covering Ed, Carmen, Loretta, Bob and Miss ATM with a thick black film. Bob blinks, then turns the page. Loretta shrieks and melts. Carmen drops Jenica, (amazingly untouched by the inky black) and goes running out into traffic, dragging Ed behind her.

“Ok, well, I guess since everyone’s leaving,” Dart moans, “I guess I should go. So, you know… goodbye. I’ll catch ya’ll later.”

Miss ATM looks aghast, “I’m ALLERGIC to black! Oh, I’m going to break out in a horrid rash! And now Sebastian’s out of black paint. Well, I’ll just send some to him. In fact, I already sent some on Thursday. You should have gotten it already, did it come? I know I sent it on Tuesday.”

Mr. B shows a blathering Miss ATM to the door and out into oncoming traffic.. SimHusband stands up and holds his crotch, dancing up and down in a charming Potty dance, then wets himself. The magic mop appears in his hands but Liberty claps her hands and dismisses him back to Simville.

“So, take care. You all take care. Bye. See you soon,” Dart says, rocking back and forth on his heals.

“Just GO, for Chrissake!” Mr. B snaps and shoves Dart out the door into oncoming traffic. Liberty sighs and rubs her eyes. Mr B hands her a whole cherry pie topped with a half gallon of vanilla ice cream.

Just as Liberty reaches for her fork, Devon looks up from the Nintendo and asks, “What’s for dinner? I’m starving. I hope not turkey. I hate turkey. And lettuce. And anything green or brown, and nothing round, either.”

Liberty grins wickedly, “SPAM,” she cries, then shoves a huge bite of pie into her mouth.

*fade out*

~The End~

Posted by Mommy at 02:15 AM

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