The time has come for me to rent a house. Pro's, both currently available options are near the university. Con's, I hate both of the colour schemes.

"Elaze, as far as first house options go, both are well priced."

But I hate them.

"You are homelss, you dumb ass. It's not a forever home, it's just a place you're living for now. Just Grab the small one I guess, put your shitty third hand furniture inside, and look for something better."

Why the smaller one? And I'm pretty sure the furniture is fourth hand

"One, so you can save money. Two, you hate its colours slightly less. Three, that just… makes it sadder"

I have standards ok.

"Your standards involve picking up trash, cans, nuclear fuel rods, and three eyed toads. Your standards involve eating vending machine food and cleaning the poop of birds fed laxatives to get free gym access. Your standards can stand a shitty house with shitty furniture."

You yourself picked up nuclear fuel rods, cans, mech pieces, and three eared mice. You also started with very used furniture that you had to repair, and not even a book to help you! You lived in a barn not a penthouse! What standards!

"Just buy a goddamned house, Elaze"

I did, as instructed, and bought the goddamned smallhouse. He sulked the entire time I fussed about the plumbing set up. He sulked even when I tried to include him in the decisions, as I pulled the couch out from my pocket, and moved it around to determine its best lighting angle.

"Elaze?"

Hmmm?

How did you know I once collected three eared mice?

Easy, you remembered your hypocrisy. I just used it to call you out, like you deserve.

"But How!"

Same way you learned shit about my life, I guess.

He has thoughts on that, but none that he seems ready to share. I finish setting up my house in relative quiet.

Disliking the house or not, it's still kind of a thrill to set up a place that is mine. No one whose going to get upset about how often or little I clean. Or cook. Or worry about waking up by blasting music late at night.

It feels good to stand in a place that's all mine. For about five minutes.

"Why don't you go meet some of the neighbors? Go make some friends other than Misty, Lilly, and Kris?And me I guess."

I guess.

So I went outside to the sound of a man on the Saxophone. It was beautiful. Already things are looking up.

Then Malachi spotted someone he knew. Some guy with the hick name Dusty Hogg.

"Go say Hello. Pretend your a badass"

I am a badass.

"Then you should have no trouble acting fearless and befriending him."

Just watch me ace this, Nerd.

"You do know that I used to be a well paid professional power lifter? I could kick your ass. I also successfully caught a Veloci-Rooster, you know"

The WHAT!?

"It can knock out a Sim in one hit. It was responsible for the death of Nora Zeal-Otts mother!"

Who the hell is Nora?

"The good detective Danny D's niece. A politician who changes her opinion to most of whatever you talk about."

And her mom got killed by some kind of mad science rooster?

"Pretty much."

Is that all I really need to know about her?

"All I found I needed. She's probably not leaving the valley."

Wack.

I went up to Dusty, who peered at me and asked if we had met before. Malachi proceeded to have a minor breakdown.

"No way! No goddamn way! How! Why!

Shhhh, I'm busy being a badass.

Threaten him.

With what?

Sugar in the gas tank.

Surprisingly it worked. I guess Dusty respected my guts for it. Malachi continued to whisper suggestions.

Talk about gator wrestling!

Talk about sand dunes.

Tell him your secrets!

"My secret is that my cousin is hanging out in my head. He's telling me everything to say to you. Its why you thought that you recognized me."

Elaze! Not that secret!

But I have nothing to worry about. Dusty is laughing so hard I have to sidestep slightly to avoid spittle. I felt bold.

"What do you call a pig that drives around recklessly?"

"What?"

"A Road Hogg."

That sent him to his knees. Apparently he really likes bad puns. Or being called names. Huh. I better look up more bad puns, this is more useful then I thought.

Maybe bring root beer. I served as bartender sooo many times for him and his friends at the root beer bar.

Root beer?

I get the sense that Malachi is shrugging.

Maybe it's because they are drivers?

I dunno. Doesn't fit with his reckless image.

But bikes are expensive, and I presume they don't want to trash them.

Presumably.

I guess.

Do you care enough to ask?

Probably not.

Then you will have to live with the mystery.

Dusty Hogg finally finished his laughing fit. He wipes his mouth on the inside of his shirt.

"You have guts kid. Not much sense,but guts. How would you like to help me bring dirt bike racing to this dump of a city?"

Oh great, he wants Simoleons.

Oh no. Whatever will you do. It's not like you don't have all your Bird Shit money you got while living in the penthouse under repair for freebies. Or ignoring that, you're bound to get promotions from playing basketball with your free gym muscles.

Shut it you.

"That sounds like a solid goal. How can I help?"

"You can help by pitching in 500 sims to start with, so I can get repairs on the way."

What! That's easy.

They won't start asking you for a lot of money until they figure you have some serious promotions under your belt.

Well that's something at least.

"You have yourself a deal."

We shook on it and I lost myself in the talking, until my stomach reminded me of other appointments. Walking away, I realized I had neglected everything. Uugh.

I hate that its not until you stop doing something that you notice you are tired. And hungry. And I really need to pee.

It's not new, and a quick look at Malachi's memory confirmed that he did the same thing when he was alive. So he has no room to judge me on that.

But I will.

NO room to judge.