|kaleiphant (kaleiphant) wrote,|
@ 2011-04-20 14:10:00
|Entry tags:||along the road to nowhere, bad writing, curious brothers, lazlo, loki, pascal, sims 2, spork, strangetown, vidcund, why just why|
Along the Road to Nowhere-Chapter Two: A Self-Sporking
POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING. I just thought I should warn.
Well, it went crazy sooner than I thought it would.
(Edit: I found the pictures for this, but they were so blurry and zoomed out, you couldn't really tell what was going on, so I won't post them. I'm debating whether or not I should retake them, especially considering the subject mater of this chapter.)
Chapter Two: Whorrible Job
Even without two extra mouths to feed, their jobs at the lab just weren’t cutting it in terms of finances. They needed to bring in more money and fast. [Let me guess: they freestyle for tips and you write hilariously bad stereotypical raps about alien Woohoo and the "Sweat of My Probes"; they get their big break in Simerican radio, but become the target of obscenity charges because Buzz Grunt wants to run for mayor; Nervous wants to be a moviemaker and films the whole thing, and...no, no, wait, that's the plot of CB4. But wouldn't that be a weird crossover?]
That’s when Lazlo had the creepiest idea of the century. Pascal, Vidcund, and he could whore themselves out to the people of Strangetown for money. [Or they could forget the freestyling and just do that. Really, teen-me, what were you thinking?]
“Since I am, for all intents and purposes, your pimp/lead whore and you’re the other whores, we should all dress the part,” Lazlo decided. [OH GOD NO.] With that, he donned black hot pants and a pink t-shirt that read, “Straight Pimpin’ (I double as a whore!).” [WHAT. THAT'S NOT HOW PROSTITUTION WORKS. Where the hell do you even get shirts like that? Why am I questioning the shirts and not Lazlo's (or my) sanity? Why do Pascal and Vidcund go along with this? Just...WHY EVERYTHING?]
“What in the seven levels of hell is this?” Pascal wondered about the tent-like black t-shirt and skintight jeans Lazlo had him wearing. Vidcund didn’t like his tiny blue shirt and shorts any better. [At least I didn't add fishnets and stilettos to that, Viddie.]
Vidcund took some convincing, but he eventually went along with it. [Isn't Vidcund the one with EIGHT LOGIC POINTS?!] Pascal, however, wasn’t so easily swayed. [He did not have Vidcund's high logic skill and thus could not find the microscopic sense in this crazy ass scheme.]
“These outfits are ridiculous and so is the idea of us being whores! How could you even suggest such a thing?!” Pascal yelled. [Actually, I want to know this too. Does Lazlo hate his brothers that much, that he'd suggest such a thing? Oh, wait, no he doesn't. I just remembered the next few chapters. Brace yourself.]
“We need money. We can’t get another job-the hours are set up so the two would conflict. And we can’t just keep doing what we’re doing now-it’s not getting us anywhere. This’ll get us the money to pay the bills faster than any second job offered in the newspaper,” Lazlo responded. [My lame explanation of the game's "one job at a time" rule and the reason why they don't simply work at the coffee bar I'd built right at the bottom of the hill.]
Pascal eventually sighed, then gave in. [For the first time that night. Pascal, where is your personality? Where is your mind?]
Every night for the next week, the three brothers stood on the corner of Nowhere and Dead End, waiting for a customer. Lazlo paced back and forth, advertising their business and offering to have a roll in the sack with someone for the low, low price of forty-five simoleans. [What's really sad is that I'd just watched a documentary on prostitution when I wrote this (I actually remember, because it inspired me-oh, the horror of that admission). I knew this crap was horrifically inaccurate and I wrote it anyway. I can't even use lack of research as an excuse (and that's really not a good excuse, anyway).] Vidcund and Pascal stood by the streetlight, telling potential customers their price list and menu. [I did not write notes on what the menu would be. I kind of wish I had, but then, I'd need to pour bleach into my eyes.] Pascal held his head high, in an attempt to maintain his dignity, while Vidcund hid his face in shame. [This is my reaction to this part of the story:
This elephant is so embarrassed, she can't even look at the camera.]
So far, the brothers hadn’t had one customer. [Maybe if you moved further down the street? Put up some red lights, get the aliens to come back?]
“Maybe I ought to lower the price,” Lazlo said, gazing sadly at the deserted streets.
Suddenly a dark figure approached the brothers. Lazlo looked up in hope.
“Hey….A possible customer!” Lazlo whispered to his brothers. “Hello, sir, how may we help you this fine evening?” [Classy establishment, y'all.]
Then man’s face was half-concealed by his sweatshirt’s hood, but Lazlo saw him smile through the shadows. “I’d like to spend the night with one of your lovely brothers,” he responded with a hint of a smirk in his voice. [There are less than one hundred Sims in Strangetown. How do they not recognize his voice?]
“Sure. Do you have a preference for one of us?” Lazlo asked, putting on his sexiest face. [At this point, I've pretty much accepted that teen-me has absolutely no grasp of Lazlo's character. Not that I wrote any of the other people decently, just he's the worst-written of them all.]
“I’d like to be with the dark-haired one in the black,” the man answered, pointing to Pascal.
Pascal didn’t even flinch. He just calmly walked over to the man and coolly asked, “What’ll you have?” [And would you like fries and a drink with that? No, really, they'd probably do some kinky shit, seeing how this is going.]
“Oh, just the normal WooHoo,” the man responded. “And I’d like to be on top, please.” [I thought that was a given in this situation? Or maybe Loki calls hookers all the time and asks to be on bottom? This is making me question Loki's seme/uke status, and I'm not sure I like that.]
Pascal’s eyes narrowed. “That’ll cost you five simoleans extra,” he warned, his voice full of ice. [Which Lazlo immediately instructed him to put on his nipples.]
“Um, not tonight!” Lazlo chimed in. “We’re having a special sale; five dollars off any purchase!” [What is this, Wal-ho? How is it okay to give a discount on that?] Lazlo realized that this would mean less money, but he did not want to scare off their only customer. Besides, if this one liked what they did, he might tell his friends, thus bringing in more business. [When the aliens came for Vidcund, did they abduct Lazlo's conscience, too? Or did he smack his head on that ladder a bit too hard?]
Pascal began to protest, but the mystery man responded, “No, it’s quite all right. I’d be happy to pay the full price for this choice piece of man.” He gave a slight chuckle as he removed his hood. Tufts of short, blond hair fell over his dark blue eyes, then stuck up as he ran his hands through them. He stepped into the light, revealing a familiar aquiline face….[Ellipses FAIL. There are a lot of those in this story, I think.]
It was Loki Beaker. [The only one who really gets much of a description. He's special. Also, why didn't they recognize his freaking voice? They hear it every day at their lab and every night when he drops by to shout obscenities at them and kick over their trashcans. And it appears that I'm going to butcher Loki's character as well.]
Lazlo stepped back, surprised, as Loki peeled a fifty-simolean bill from his wallet and put it in Lazlo’s hand. Lazlo stood, staring for a minute before he held it up to the streetlight and verified that it was indeed a real fifty-simolean bill. [Lazlo does not seem like he'd be a closet fortune Sim.]
Then Lazlo saw the looks on his brothers’ faces. Vidcund’s eyes seemed to have widened to at least twice their normal size. But he didn’t look nearly as shocked as Pascal. His face was chalk-white, his eyes were as round as flying saucers, and he was silently mouthing the words, “Oh my fucking God….” [OH SHIT SON.]
“Um, okay, then. We’ll take you inside and, uh, get started,” Lazlo stammered. His voice seemed to bring Pascal back. [Maybe he should have used this amazing ability when Pascal got abducted by aliens?] Pascal stomped towards Loki, who immediately placed his arm around Pascal’s shoulders. Pascal merely shuddered, then led Loki into the house, his brothers following behind. [Okay, so I didn't make Lazlo a sociopath. I just made him unbelievably stupid. Also, what the hell did Pascal ever do to my sims to deserve this?]
The brothers led Loki through the house to Pascal’s bedroom. [Because Loki would totally be allowed there.]
“Here’s where Pascal will be receiving you. [I did not realize the double meaning of that wording until now.] Take as much time as you need,” Lazlo said, as the four men walked down the hall to the room.
“Let’s get started,” Loki said, lowering his arm to Pascal’s waist. [Please don't tell me I wrote terrible Sim smut.]
Pascal no longer shot Loki sideways glares. He silently led Loki into the bedroom, then closed the door behind them. [But it would cost Loki and additional twenty-five cents. So would keeping the lights on, too, right?]
Loki sat down on the bed. Pascal knelt on the floor in front of him and began to slide his clothing off.
“No, let me get that for you.” Loki got off the bed and knelt down beside Pascal, who only watched him, his T-Shirt hanging off one shoulder. [Why is this detail so important? Was I trying to be poetic? Is this suddenly going to turn into flashdance?]
“Y’know, this would be better if I did it on the bed,” Loki decided aloud. [Yes, Woohoo on the bed would be much more comfortable than on a tile floor, like the original Curious house.] He rose and climbed back onto the bed. Pascal followed silently.
Straddling Pascal, Loki slid Pascal’s jeans off slowly. Pascal had pretty legs, Loki noticed. ["You sure do got some purty legs." Cue Dueling Banjos.] They were almost like a woman’s legs, they were so slender and delicate. [Oh, dear. I turned this into a bad yaoi fic. Well, to be fair, the makeover I gave Pascal did make him look like a bishounen.]
Loki took off Pascal’s shirt next. The top half matched the bottom half; Pascal was a very slender man. [It's very creepy how Loki keeps pointing this stuff out. I think he'd just get it over with if i'd written him properly.] And his skin was so soft, so silky. [Okay, seriously, Loki. You hate this dude.] Loki ran his hands over the smooth brown body.
He was suddenly aware of Pascal glaring up at him, with narrowed blue eyes. [Hey! Pascal's half-assedly written personality returned! Never thought I'd miss that.]
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked coldly. “All these years, you’ve been trying to find a way to hurt or humiliate me to get revenge for all those fights I won against you.” [Didn't he actually lose those fights? Way to stick to canon, teen-me.]
Loki sulked. [I bet I put heaps of black mascara on him, too.] “Let’s not dwell on the past. Besides,” he continued, the smirk returning to his face, “Unlike those little fights, this will be talked about and remembered for much longer than a few weeks.” [No, it won't, unless you go around telling everyone your sexual exploits. Wait, Loki does do that. Ew. No wonder everyone in Strangetown went nuts.]
Pascal’s hands curled into fists. All his life, he’d fought to outdo Loki, to ever give Loki a reason to look down on him. And now, Loki was the one who’d come out on top. [Are you seriously making puns during what might be considered a very, very dark scene (albeit, a very poorly-written one)? What the hell, teen-me?]
Loki noticed the fists and took up one of Pascal’s hands. He examined it, running his pale fingers over the palm as he uncurled it. “You have such pretty hands for someone who’s fought so much.” [LOKI. YOU ARE CREEPY. GET-IM-DUN AND GTFO ALREADY.]
Out in the hall, Vidcund paced the floor, nervously, as Lazlo leaned casually on the doorframe. [Lazlo has no real emotion. God, he's like Edward Cullen, only with crappy jokes. And without sparkles, though he may be wearing body glitter under his "Straight Pimpin" embarrassment-of-a-shirt.]
Vidcund’s thoughts and pacing would have put most triathlon winners to shame. “How could he? How could Loki do such a thing? Doesn’t he have a wife? Is he really this desperate to get even with Pascal? Is he even here for revenge, or is this how he gets his sick kicks?” [I can answer every one of those: Because he's Loki, and thus the incredibly screwed-up villain in this story; because Loki is a sociopath; yes, he does, but he doesn't care, and I don't know why you care about Circe either; yes, he is that desperate; he's here for revenge AND because he's a sociopathic pervert.]
“These shorts are riding up my ass!” Vidcund finally yelled, stopping mid-pace. [Let that mental image sink in, folks.]
Lazlo stared at his brother, bewildered. [The first believable thing Lazlo has done all story.] Vidcund squirmed uncomfortably in his tight outfit and continued pacing. [Why doesn't he just change his outfit? Unless he has a wedgie fetish--oh, you know what, he probably does.]
In the bedroom, Loki caressed Pascal’s body. Pascal trembled under his touch, but no longer turned or pulled away. [Shit's getting serious, here.]
“That’s right. Give in to me,” Loki whispered, sliding Pascal’s underclothes off. [To make it up to Loki, I have written him as the hero in many of my stories after this. He really does not deserve this character defamation and Pascal does not deserve this horrible plot point.] He leaned forward so that his body was just a millimeter off of Pascal’s. He put his head against Pascal’s shoulder and kissed it long and hard. Pascal gripped the bedclothes.
As the act began, Loki could feel Pascal’s hot tears tickle his neck. [I'm so sorry, Pascal. :'( ]
About a half an hour later, Loki exited the bedroom, looking most pleased with himself. “How was it?” Lazlo asked hesitantly. [Oh, Lazlo's back to being a psychopathic cardboard cut-out.]
“It was worth every penny,” Loki replied, practically floating out the door. [Sadly, this isn't the last you'll be seeing of this horrible ass of a character.]
Lazlo rushed into the bedroom, just as Pascal was running out. Looking dazed, Pascal ran into the bathroom, where loud retching noises could be heard. [Oh, please don't tell me he got pregnant from it. This really was fit for the exchange, wasn't it? I was planning to post it on the exchange, but ironically, I worried that there were too many adult situations and swears!]
Vidcund and Lazlo went into the bathroom, where Pascal was kneeling with his head over the toilet. “How was it?” Vidcund asked softly, gently putting a hand on Pascal’s shoulder and kneeling down. [Vidcund has not changed his outfit.]
Pascal heaved into the toilet again. “It was horrible,” he sobbed, wiping his mouth. He buried his face in Vidcund’s chest as he continued to cry. [His mascara didn't run this time, though] “Bastard enjoyed stealing my pride.”
Lazlo approached the toilet area slowly. Over Vidcund’s shoulder, Pascal noticed him and narrowed his eyes. “You…” he growled. [HURR COMeS TEH FITE.]
Pascal stood and went over to Lazlo. “I told you that prostitution idea was crap!” he hollered. [I can't get over the fact that Lazlo had to be TOLD this was a bad idea.] “Just like all your ideas! If we weren’t all working at the lab, you’d be working at SimDonalds with all the other morons!” [Hey, don't knock fast food workers, you elitist punk!]
“That’s it, Pascal!” Lazlo hollered. “I’m tired of your shit! I try to think of a way to bring a little more money into the household and you’ve dogged every idea I’ve suggested! I’m tired of you always making me feel like I can’t do anything right!” [LAZLO IS TIRED OF YOUR SHIT. HE IS ANGRY. HEAR HIS ANGRY WORDS. SEE HIS ANGREH FAEC. RARRR.]
“Maybe I do that because you can’t do anything right!” Pascal shouted back. “And anything you did do right was an accident, just like you!” [Lifted right from the first draft of another story, that was. I couldn't even be bothered to write a new insult for this mess.]
Pascal knew just how deeply he’d cut Lazlo when Lazlo ran into a corner to cry. [Lazlo is probably also wearing mascara, and it's falling onto his pink shirt. I think I put that on all the guys in Strangetown.]
However, Lazlo recovered quickly and came back with a vengeance. “You son of a BITCH!” he screamed, his hand flying across Pascal’s face. [Lazlo is so dumb, he doesn't even realize he's insulting his own mother.]
“Fuck you!” Pascal lashed out at Lazlo. [Nice, strong comeback.]
Things heated up until Pascal finally attacked Lazlo. [Why didn't you describe how things heated up? That could have been entertaining.
Vidcund covered his eyes. He hated it when his brothers didn’t get along. [Vidcund, you ineffectual little twit. At least try to do something about it. And change your outfit!]
At the end of the colossal fight [that you don't even get to see], Pascal kicked Lazlo’s ass. [Finally! Someone had to do it.]
That was...well, that was scary.
What's even scarier is that I wrote in my notes on this story that they were calling their brothel "Get Curious Sexytime Parlor." I can't remember if I wrote that as a joke or if I was going to seriously write that in.