Chapter 10: Quid Pro Quo

[pascal_curious]

 

Morning broke over the seemingly peaceful desert haven of Strangetown. Birds twittered in the palm trees. Butterflies glided on perfumed breezes over the flowerbeds. Sleepy eyed children woke to the smells of blueberry pancakes.   The sun crested the distant mountains to the east, bathing the tiny oasis town in golden beams of light. A dog barked a playful warning to a passing mail carrier and a cat pounced from a neighbor's windowsill onto a feather fluttering in the breeze. Lazlo Curious stood naked in his bathroom and wept.

 
 

 

 

“It’s really not that bad, Lazlo. I swear!”

 

“That’s not what it looked like to me. I seem to remember you asking for your last rites,” he retorted.

 

He was correct. I distinctly remembered being in the throes of childbirth and begging for the Anointing of the Sick. I was out of arguments and left Lazlo to his bath.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at my desk. I switched the computer monitor on and stared blankly at the screen. One would think that telecommuting is the ultimate in cushy jobs. The sad fact is that it is harder to motivate one’s self to work when surrounded by so many distractions. I sighed with resignation and started up PowerPoint to work on tomorrow’s presentation. I secretly hoped for something to happen to draw me away from the tedium of revising the revised revision of my presentation. I clicked through the pages and spot checked for grammatical errors, missing images and improperly calculated calculations. After about 3 pages I yawned and took a sip of my coffee. I strained to hear any noises coming from the baby monitor. Nothing. I was desperate for something to happen.

 

I was absently decorating my computer monitor with brightly colored post-it notes when Lazlo emerged from the bathroom scrubbed pink from head to toe and completely naked.

 

“Oh, nice! Next time give me some warning before you are going to do that.”

 

“Sorry big brother, forgot to take my underoos with me, won’t happen again,” he apologized.

 

“It better not. I don’t want my daughter being scarred for life because her uncle forgot to take his underpants to the shower with him.”

 

I finished the intricate pattern of post-its on my monitor by placing a florescent pink one directly in the center.

 

“Didn’t you used to have a pair of underoos that looked like Adam West’s costume in the old Batman series?” I reminisced. “You were such a dork.”

 

 

“Who was it that had the Peter Pan underoos?” he reminded me. “Need I say more?”

 

“The rumors that Peter Pan was a fairy are completely unsubstantiated,” I pointed out. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

 

Being the thoughtful and caring person that I am, I abandoned my post-it masterpiece to prepare a travel mug of coffee for Lazlo to take to work with him. He exited his room dressed for work.  As always, his tie was crooked and his lab coat wrinkled.

 

“Your tie is crooked,” I told him as I handed him the travel mug.

 

“Thanks. I like it that way.”

 

In a grand gesture, Lazlo flung the end of his necktie over his shoulder a’la Dracula flinging his cape. He accepted the coffee and grabbed his car keys from the desk
.

“You okay now?” I asked.

 

“Yeah,” he sighed. “After all, there really aren’t enough Curiouses in the world.”

 With that he swept out the door, off to that dreamland I used to call ‘work’.

 

I sat down at my desk and stared at my supreme artistic achievement. I took another sip off coffee that was now too cold for human consumption and found myself wishing I had some nice, sharp, number-two pencils to fling at the ceiling tiles.

 

As if my prayers for salvation from the enslavement of final-editing were answered, there was a knock at the door.

 

I quickly peeked in on the baby to make sure she was still sleeping. Satisfied, I closed the door to my bedroom to keep from disturbing her as well as keep anyone from seeing her.

Smiling at me through the glass pane of the front door was Amber St. Clare.   She was clutching the hideous orange afghan that I had given her much earlier that morning.

 

“Hi,” I greeted her warmly as I opened the door.

 

“I brought your blanket back,” she said holding it out to me.

 

“Thanks. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee or something?” I offered, already scheming how I could get her to tell me what she really knew about what happened to Lazlo.

 

“Sure.”

 

I took the raggedy blanket and stepped aside to for her to come in.

 

“I am not interrupting you am I?” she asked, gesturing at the pièce de résistance on my computer screen. It now featured as its main focal point a lime green post-it with a shopping list for ‘Number 2 Pencils’.

 

“Actually, I was. I was calculating how many yellow number –two pencils it would take to fill up one ceiling tile,” I told her sardonically.

 

“I can see you are very dedicated to your profession. Is screwing off all you do, or do you have a real job? She asked with a wink.

 

With the exception of when she had called me a smart ass, this was a completely different Amber than the one I had seen earlier. That could have been because she wasn’t in fear of being whisked away by alien rapists or because she had recovered from the trauma of seeing me in my underpants. I wasn’t sure which. Either way, I liked this Amber.

 

She followed me through the living room and to the kitchen where I retrieved two coffee cups from the cabinet.

 

She sat down on one of the stools at the center island.

 

“Cream or sugar?” I asked.

 

“Both please.”

 

She surveyed the room around her as I poured our drinks.

 

“I like your house, Its very… unique.”

 

“We prefer to call it ‘the bunker,” I corrected as I sat her mug of coffee on the island in front of her.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because we are guys. Somehow it didn’t seem appropriate to call a construction comprised of mostly cinder blocks a house.”

 

I could feel one of those uncomfortable coming on as we both sipped our coffee. I had to think of an artful way to broach the subject of alien spacecraft.

 

“You play chess?” she asked, spying the chess table at the other side of the room.

 

“Yeah, whenever I have the time. Do you play?”

 

“We…” She looked away and suddenly seemed very somber. “I mean, I used to play quite often. Almost every day.”

I took this to mean that it was a pastime she had often enjoyed with her late husband.

 

“Would you like to play a quick game?” I suggested.

 

“There is no such thing as a quick game,” she quipped with a weak smile.

 

“So you think you are that good?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“How ‘bout you prove it?” I goaded.

 

“If you think you can handle being beaten by a girl, sure!”

 

“Not a snowflake’s chance that’s gonna happen,” I assured her.

 

“You’re on," she said, accepting my challenge.

“I’m gonna make another pot of coffee. I’ll be there in a second.”

 

I took the opportunity while she set up the pieces to turn up the baby monitor. I hoped that I wouldn’t hear anything from it. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain the fact that I suddenly had a green daughter from another planet. I started another pot of coffee and then joined her at the chess set. She had already taken her place at the white side of the board.

 

“Ladies first.”

 

Amber started out by moving a pawn to d4. I followed with my pawn to d5. We continued for several moves without saying anything. I couldn’t help but notice the way she bit her lower lip when she was thinking. 

I tried to focus on the game but what I really wanted to do was asker her why she was looking out her window at three in the morning. I was about to say something when her Bishop captured my piece on e4. I retaliated by taking the offending Bishop with my Knight.

 

“Can I ask you something?” she queried as she moved her Knight to d2.

 

“You just have,” I answered, moving my Knight to f6.

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“I mean, can I ask you a sort of personal question without you getting offended.”

 

“I don’t offend easily,” I informed her.

 

She thought for a moment before she spoke. I could tell she was thinking because she was biting her lip again.

 

“Lazlo told me that all three of you are scientists and you all work for the government.”

 

“That is semi-accurate. We actually work for a company that is contracted by the government for several sinister scientific purposes.”

 

“Okay.  Well, I  was wondering, and please don’t be offended, if you were working on a new miracle diet drug or something?”

 

She had me completely baffled. I didn’t see the connection between my work and diet drugs. I wasn’t a chemist, but she wouldn’t know that. ‘Scientist’ is a rather generic term that encompasses a rather broad spectrum of studies.

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow you,” I told her.

 

She sighed and bit her lip some more.

 

“It’s just that, and this is what I was afraid would offend you,” she explained, “When I first met you there was rather a lot more of you. I couldn’t help noticing this morning that you…well you look really good.”

 

She deliberately avoided looking at me, fiddling with my captured piece.

 

“It has only been about a month and a half since we met. It just seems like you lost an extraordinary amount of weight in a short period of time,” she explained.

 

“I was that big was I?” I asked wryly.

 

She sighed again. The red rising in her cheeks revealed her embarrassment.

 

“I didn’t want to offend you. I was trying to be tactful.”

 

“You could have just asked me if I had lost weight,” I stated simply.

 

She kicked my shin.

 

“Sorry, it just seems like you went the long way around asking a rather simple question.”

 

She made her next move and looked at me expectantly. Her cheeks were still slightly pink.

 

“Well?”

 

“Well what?” I teased.

 

“How did you do it!? How did you lose so much weight?” she demanded.

 

I gave up what little hope I had of winning this game. This could well be the segue that I had been looking for. I grinned mischievously as I developed my plan. I pretended to be focusing on the game until I had determined how much information I could trust her with.

 

I finally made a completely random move and looked her straight in the eye.

 

“I’ll tell you,” I explained soberly, “But you have to answer a question for me first.”

 

I could tell she was deciding how badly she wanted to know by the lower lip action.

 

“Yes, Dr. Lecter.”

 

I leaned forward and with all the finesse of Larry KingI asked her, “What made you look out your front window at three in the morning?”

 

I could see the comprehension on her face; she knew exactly what I was getting at. I don’t think she expected me to ask her anything about that morning.

 

“Insomnia?” she suggested feebly.

 

“Nope. Not gonna cut it.”

 

“You will think I am crazy,” she whinged.

 

“I promise you that I won’t,” I told her sincerely.

 

She seemed resigned to her fate. I think she knew that I wouldn’t leave her alone until she told me the truth.

 

“I really was having trouble sleeping,so I was on the sofa watching TV. I noticed some flashing lights through the curtains and I looked outside to see what it was. I thought maybe it was a tow truck or something; I wanted to make sure that it wasn’t an ambulance or fire truck in front of your place.”

 

“Which was it then?” I asked her knowingly.

 

“None of the above.”

 

“What did you see?”

 

It was a wonder her lip wasn’t bleeding, the way that she was gnawing on it. She pleaded with her eyes for me not to make her say it.

 

I waited patiently.

“It wasn’t a car or anything like that. It was in the air above the road.”

 

“What did it look like?” I pressed. I could see her becoming more and more exasperated.

 

“There were a lot of lights.” 

 

“What color were they?” I almost felt bad for tormenting her like this.

 

“Dammit!” she yelled, slamming her fist on the table. Chess pieces scattered and clattered to the floor.

 

“I saw a flying saucer! Okay?”

 

Comments

[thesixthmuse.livejournal.com]

Firstly ...

"The sad fact is that it is harder to motivate one’s self to work when surrounded by so many distractions"

That is so true. I have that problem when I sit down to write submission stories.

Secondly ...

Well done! I love this update. I still love the way you write their interaction and conversations so naturally. It evokes the imagery as you read so that, although the screenshots are nice, it doesn't make it neccessary to have them. I like this style of storywriting you've used here.

Reading your story makes me want to play Strangetown again.

[pascal-curious.livejournal.com]

"The sad fact is that it is harder to motivate one’s self to work when surrounded by so many distractions"

That is so true. I have that problem when I sit down to write submission stories.

I should actually be doing housework right now.

Well done! I love this update. I still love the way you write their interaction and conversations so naturally. It evokes the imagery as you read so that, although the screenshots are nice, it doesn't make it neccessary to have them. I like this style of storywriting you've used here.

Thank you for saying this. Sometimes I feel like I am stumbling with the dialogue. I am also conscious of the fact that my grammar and punctuation aren't quite up to snuff. It has been a while since I have formally written anything.

[thesixthmuse.livejournal.com]

You might feel like that but it doesn't show in the final product. It reads very well and your grammar and punctuation are fine. Everything reads smoothly.

I do understand what you mean though. I always feel as if what the sims in my stories are saying is 'forced' or 'rehearsed'. Sometimes I have to step back and wonder, would people seriously say that stuff for real??

[madame-ugly.livejournal.com]

Congratulations.

I'm officially hooked on a story that has little to no pictures. You are the first sim storyteller to have this "honor".

Thanks for the entertainment.

[pascal-curious.livejournal.com]

I truly do feel honored.

I am so glad you are enjoying it. I am having a blast writing it.

[sounddecision.livejournal.com]

You know, I didn't even noticed how many pictures there are or aren't until this was said. You are doing a fine job putting the imagery in the words.

Your grammar is also fine, I haven't noticed anything, and since one of the things I do is moderate sim stories, I have seen enough butchered grammar to know it when I see it. :)

[kin-thalas.livejournal.com]

Really good.
Oh yes, it´s very hard to tell the truth sometimes... And now it´s Pascal´s turn, I guess... I´m curious how amber will react about the fact of green babies!