Chapter Two – Allegro
“Are you still trying to figure out how to play your guitar?” Rachel demanded when she heard the unmistakable sounds of amateurish string-plucking from the other room. “You could just ask Lauckerface or somebody to teach you, you know...”
Fandi, as usual, let her pride overrule her sense. “No! I can do this by myself, just watch!”
“I’ve been watching and listening to you for over an hour, and nothing’s happening.”
“Well, that’s not my fault! Isn’t this supposed to be the Sims? Aren’t I supposed to automatically get better at this by myself even though logically that would be extremely unlikely?”
“I think maybe the writer is feeling sadistic today.”
“Yeah, me too. I may or may not have made a fool of myself just now.”
“Actually, I don’t think so. But either way, the writer apologizes for that.”
“Patty-cake, patty-cake, baker’s man! Bake me a cake as fast as you can! Stir it, and pour it, and mark it with a B! Something-something-something for baby and me!”
“You’re terrible at improv, aren’t you.”
“Be quiet.”
“The writer really is feeling sadistic today,” Richard commented as he looked around his newly “renovated” bedroom, complete with bunny wallpaper and a flowery pink bedspread with the Barbie logo printed on it.
“Richerface! You there? I wanna see your new bedroom! Joannerface’s looks awesome, so what-”
Rachel and Sandy stopped at the doorway and stared. Then they burst into laughter.
“What did you do?” Richard demanded.
“Don’t talk to me, talk to the deity who renovated your house. And while you’re at it, ask her why you and Joannerface aren’t sleeping in the same bed – er, room.”
“I bumped into Sakura the other day, and she said that she was training with her Guardians every night in the field next to Chelsea’s farm. Something about nothing magical happening for the past few years, since Eriol’s been a good boy. I wonder if she would agree if I asked her to train Shandershon and Sarserson at their magic...? (And my Pokémon too, while they’re at it.) Although I’m pretty sure the Cards’ magic and Potterverse magic and Pokémon attacks are all different...”
As usual, Jason and Fandi ignored their housemate and went on eating.
“Heyyy, Tangie! Wanna come to a barbeque at our house tonight? And why are you working at a picnic table?”
Angie looked up from her paperwork. “Sorry Rach, can’t. I have too many cases to take care of right now, so I’m really busy. And as for the picnic table thing... you know how Sarah gets. I can’t work in that house while she’s in there.”
“O rly nao? Being a lawyer sure sounds complicated,” Rachel sighed, folding her arms and looking over Angie’s mounds of files and crap. “Makes me kind of glad I chose to be a freelance writer.”
“But at least I’m more financially stable than you,” Angie pointed out, “which is sort of why our house has an indoor pool and a spa and five sports cars and a full-blown buffet in our kitchen.”
“Hey hey, you sorta derailed there. Besides, don’t you ever get stressed?”
“Don’t you? Considering how you were back when you were writing Randomosity Chronicles.”
“First of all, you’re not even supposed to remember that, and second of all, apparently people in this universe like my BS.
“... Why was there a strikethrough in the middle of your quotation?”
“Don’t ask me.” Rachel plopped down at the table across from her friend and began leafing through her papers.
“Hey! Don’t mess up my pile.”
“These things actually have an order to them?”
“Well, obviously.”
Rachel placed the papers back and yawned. “Anyway, going back to the topic at hand...”
“Which was...?”
“I dunno.”
“...”
“You know, I think should record this conversation somewhere and put it in a story that may or may not make a crapload of sense and may or may not be posted on a blog floating somewhere around the Internet.”
Angie raised a sceptical eyebrow. “And just who would actually find it interesting?”
“Hey, you know what? Coming up with fresh ideas is harder than it looks. Making up descriptions for scenery is even harder.” Rachel looked up at the late afternoon sky, painted a pale orange by the final rays of the setting sun. Then she winced at how cliché and lame that last sentence sounded. “This sucks. Maybe I should have gone for culinary arts after all.”
That elicited a chuckle from the other girl. “Really? Are you serious? Rach, you burned soup of all-”
“You guys aren’t gonna let that go for a looooong time, are you...?”
“What? It’s funny. And kind of sad at the same time.”
“... Be quiet.”
---
The title means nothing. Whut.
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