There Was Once An Old Woman…OH GOD NO!!!

Flirt with the driver, who care’s if it’s a guy or a girl…you need that car!

You stand up, your legs shaky and a horrible taste in your mouth. You wobble over to the car and lean in to the open door. Perhaps whispering sweet nothings to the gallons of blood and bits of gristle will help. It’s a plan that’s gotten you through life pretty well thus far.

“Your daddy must have been a drug dealer, because you’re dope!”

The ears swing a bit, but that’s all the response you get. The smell climbs up your nose and bile rises in your throat.

Whoa. That’s a bad break indeed…

You realize your fingerprints are now on the car (and if you puked…a decent amount of your saliva too), so you seem to have one of two options: either you call the police and wait to meet them so they know you discovered the er….situation and are on the up and up, or you clean off your fingerprints and get rid of the evidence of your presence as quickly as possible and run away.

Call the cops! But in an anonymous way of doing things. Then have a quick shower at the pool or gym and go to work….Then quit and evacuate the country for a while…Like Egypt or CHina….Payments cant find you there and there are some very valuable minerals and stones that can be sold for ALOT of money. Not to mention tombs and relics…

The carrot-selling business must *really* be rough – kids are leaving “messages” with ears hanging from rearview mirrors? Too much TV, that’s what.

So he decides to leave the sand where it is – he can try to clean up a little in the bathroom at work. Backing away from the car, he runs to work hoping he can get through the day without anyone noticing the smell of his breath or the sandy itch in his very manly pink skull pants of love.

You should probably call the police. That would be a good idea. They would know what to do with all this blood. And the ears. Oh god the ears.

You touch your own ears. They are indeed there, if still itchy. You sigh with relief.

So, yeah – call the police. Good idea. Except…what if they think you did this? You’re not exactly at your personal best at the moment and you might give the wrong impression. You were just trying to flirt with mutilated ears, after all.

Also, well – you’ve heard rumors about the Sunset Valley police force. They’re supposedly more corrupt than your misspent youth.

You could just leave. Just walk away all cool and nonchalant until you’re out of eyesight of the Vaguester and then run like hell. Maybe go to Al Simhara. You’ve heard the girls there are pretty cute.

Your heartbeat slows down a bit and your legs are less shaky now. You’ve got to think.

Okay, running is probably the best thing to do. Problems always go away when you ignore them. But…you opened the door. You touched the car. When the police do show up, they’ll have your fingerprints.

The pink skull pants of love are loose enough for you to pull up a section of the fabric and use it to wipe the door handle. There, that’s taken care of.

Hey, no blood on the pink skulls of love! Totally ruins the babe-o-vibe! Leave something near the car to incriminate the OTHER Gilscarbo, then beat a hasty retreat to… anywhere far away. How far away can you go without technically leaving town? Isn’t there a waterfall somewhere around?

Yeah, incriminate the “other” one!! But instead of running just go to work.

Now that you’ve saved yourself, it occurs to you that you could perhaps lead the police in a different direction.

The flood of adrenalin and nausea disappears and leaves burning hatred in its wake. That *other* GilsCarbo. He Whose Name Must Not Be Said Unless It Is Part of a Dark Ritual of Torment.

But how can you lead the police to him? He doesn’t even live in Sunset Valley. You do a quick check of your inventory. In your magical infinite pocket you find an old newspaper, a cow plant figurine, an unknown seed, a cabbage, a death fish, an easel, a Wugglesworth Schnuggles Bear, and a life preserver wall decoration.

You take the easel out, pick up a crayon, and scrawl “Goopy GilsCarbo did this!” in your best imitation of handwriting that is not yours at all. Someone else wrote this, totally, you don’t cross your t like that and you dot your i with a heart, not an intricate drawing of mutilated ears. No one will be able to connect the paper with you.

You place the paper on the front seat of the car, being careful to not get any of the blood on your pink skull pants of love. The easel goes back into your magical infinite pocket.

Punching (and getting punched by) Xander Clavell at a beach party is one thing, it’s a man thing – a Jack-the-lad thing; dealing with a pair of bloody ears however – even if they are located in a very attractive Vaguester, is quite another. You can’t get involved in this sort of stuff; you have responsibilities! (and you are a coward) You are the man with the plan; with the coffee and cake for Iliana, with the twenty four pack, with the lucky 5 still to woo and with the sand up your… (well, we won’t go there).
So you scramble away from the Vaguester, furtively checking up and down the road (there was an old lady out in her garden, but you don’t think she’s seen you) and simply run away as fast as you can.

All right. Fingerprints wiped away, incriminating note left, nothing to see here, let’s move along.

Where to go, though? Al Simhara is very very far away, but if you called the travel agency they’d probably say you had insufficient funds. There is that waterfall at the edge of town…but no, that place has some baaad juju.

Probably best to just go on to work, really. Less suspicious that way, maybe.

You look around to see if anyone saw you. You’re not really expecting anything because you haven’t seen another living Sim since you woke up.

That has now changed.

Your stomach drops and you can’t breathe.

Dun Dun

She hasn’t seen you, has she? You don’t think so. Her back is to you. She’s just hanging out in her garden, not paying any attention to you or blood drenched cars or hastily written incriminating notes.

You’re reassuring yourself and trying to pick up your stomach and go on to work when she starts turning towards you.


Yeah, your stomach is pretty much gone now.

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19 Responses to There Was Once An Old Woman…OH GOD NO!!!

  1. Mariia says:

    Oh God.
    You go up to the old lady, trying to start a conversation as if everything was normal.
    That’s all for now ^_^.


  2. Jessie says:

    Grab the note, say screw anonymity and blame the old woman with blood on her face!


  3. raquelaroden says:


    You grab the cowplant figurine and use it as an offering to the er….old woman, and start questioning her–maybe she’s the one responsible for all the blood and unattached ears?


  4. EmilyH says:

    You really should run away from that scary old lady as fast as you can!


  5. Kat says:

    Start up a conversation with her. There’s nothing to be suspicious about! It’s not like she saw you with the car.


  6. mountainshade1 says:

    “Hello? Is someone there?” – the old lady calls in a trembling voice, and you realise she is blind. She hasn’t seen you, you are safe. But what is wrong with her, what sort of dreadful disease does she have to make her look like that? Could she be infectious? You really don’t want to hang around to find out.


  7. DB loves her Mac says:

    Aunt Matilda?!?!

    But dad said she moved away to a nice farm in Canada last year. What’s she doing here, sporting the latest in zombie-face?


  8. kaldresh says:

    Scream like a girl and run as fast as you can and promise yourself to never, ever, venture down this street again.

    (OOC: He IS a coward, isn’t he? And: Hmmm…. I’m beginning to wonder about this town – what have you gotten us into Misty? lol)


  9. Anonymous says:



  10. medleymisty says:

    All right, I think we’re full up on commands for this one. 🙂 I may take tonight off though and post the update tomorrow night. Starting to get Ideas about where to go from here and want to let them percolate a bit. 😉


  11. tipix7 says:

    Love the story idea, this looks to have an evil twist to it!

    Personally, running off and digging a hole somewhere to wait out whatever terror seems to have befallen this town seems like a pretty good idea to me at this point. Yikes!


  12. You think, “Wait? Since when did I land myself in an Apocalypse Challenge?” You didn’t sign up for fending off zombies and an endless barrage of restrictions to lift by settling down, raising poop factories, and marrying one and only one lady to share your glistening man-abs of pink skull-manliness!

    But then, the old lady removes what is actually an old Halloween mask, and calls out sweetly “I’m sorry, did I scare you? I have the worst allergies imaginable, and unfortunately could only find this mask to help keep the pollen out of my eyes when I’m weeding the garden.”

    You flirt shamelessly to raise an old woman’s spirits, and hightail your pink skull-swathed buttocks off to Doo Peas.


  13. Katrea says:

    I’m having fun reading this even though I’m late to the party. I like the references to Valley XD


    • medleymisty says:

      Yeah – Gunky was fun. 🙂 I miss it, but yeah…someone went a little overboard with their suggestions and so it ended.

      But I learned, and that’s why the new story is participatory but I started it out by saying that I reserved the right to not use any suggestions that I felt didn’t fit the plot or the characters. And also suggestions are only accepted on my LJ, where anonymous commenting is not allowed. I figure between those two things I should be okay and so what happened with Gunky won’t happen with the new story. Which it’d better not, seeing as how the new story is a sequel to Valley and thus very near and dear to my heart. 😉


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