That day, the clouds of the previous week had been prised apart to reveal the eye of the heavens, or so it felt to the grateful Rebma, who had been stuck inside. She decided to make the most of it by taking a visit to the park.
She swirled around and was immediately dressed for exercising. Then, she began to jog.
By the time she was there, she realised that it was surprisingly desolate, except for Loclam Baargnal. She tried to turn away, but he had spotted her.
"Ah, Rebmie!"
"It's Rebma," she muttered darkly.
"Yes, that," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "I heard you'd qualified as a doctor."
"Mm-hm."
"Congratulations!" Loclam beamed.
Rebma looked up at him with surprise. "Thanks," she replied, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "That took three hours of chess, you know."
"Yeah, well, enough about you," he said, rolling his eyes. "My dog died this weekend."
Rebma gasped. "I'm so sorry!"
They stood there in silence for a few seconds, with Rebma wondering if she should leave him in peace. But then he said abruptly, "Yeah, it's all right though. I just got his will back."
"Oh yes." Rebma nodded understandingly.
"Three butterflies."
"How lovely," she said, tears forming in her eyes.
"I know," whispered Loclam. "It's made me think about my own, really."
"I'm proud to say that I've already got that sussed."
Loclam raised an eyebrow.
"A rock, a picnic basket and three sausages. Anyway, must dash."
And before he could say "I'm jealous," a weary Rebma grabbed her backpack and slowly but surely, with a flash of red, a car had morphed out and plopped itself on the road. She jumped in, and leaned out of the window with a grin. "Catch you later!"
As she drove, all she saw was block colours of green and blue, with trees unable to be formed yet. When she reached home, the house rapidly built itself before her eyes.
Nothing unusual there.
Often, to relax, she'd unwind in the garden. She headed towards the gate, only to find that some plumbob of a Sim had dumped a dish in her way. She stood, utterly perplexed and waving her arms for what must have been half an hour before her husband arrived home from work and, as the neat man that he was, picked it up and washed the dish. However, it soon transpired that he was the plumbob of a Sim who had dumped the dish in the first place, because not only did he then proceed to wash one dish at a time, despite the pile placed propitiously on the living room floor, but somehow he made it so that the taps did not stop leaking water.
Rebma sighed and waited for him to swear at it for a minute before he went to kick the ornamental flamingos in the garden. Then she yanked a wrench from her pocket and began to hammer the taps with it. It took one hour of incessant, robotic hammering before the taps halted their unwanted flow of water.
Rebma strolled out into the back garden before realising that Rovert was still at it. Shaking her head, she headed towards the pond. It was relaxing to watch the water shine as the sun beat down and her husband yelled in the midst of it all. From her pocket she pulled out a fishing rod and, with an almighty launch of a backwards arm, swung the rod up high so as to fish in the deep, murky waters of a garden pond - which was sure to behold many species. But her novice nature shined more than those mysterious waters when the power of her swing hurled her backwards. She yelled as she landed on her back, narrowly avoiding slipping within to those oh-so dangerous depths. So loud was this that her husband stopped kicking the flamingos, though there was still so much more fun to be had. The fishing rod had disappeared due to her failure, but he morphed it back into his expert hand regardless.
Rebma picked herself up and frowned as Rovert was able to stand responsibly, with such patience, though nothing seemed to be going on. She decided to go back inside. To think, she quit her job so she could go fishing in the garden pond and sell her discoveries. To keep her going thus far, she'd sold the chess table at which she and Rovert ate, although it wasn't a problem because there were always the flamingos to keep them entertained, and the chess table had long passed its main use in qualifying her as a doctor.
Despite this, she wasn't sure how to treat the many bruises that accompanied falling over whilst attempting the highly taxing task of propping a fishing rod into a garden pond. She decided to go to bed, though the uncertainty of this choice niggled away at her.
Hours later, she awoke to the sound of excited yelling - not even Simlish, just random noises. She hurried outside at the wake of dawn in her dressing gown.
"Rebma! Rebma!" Rovert was practically screaming.
"What?" she shouted in alarm.
"There's a big catch," he said, turning to her delightedly.
"What do you - ?"
Suddenly there was a flash of grey as an enormous fish rose out of the pond. Rovert was shouting something indistinguishable, Rebma was panicking, and "The fish is going to eat us!" Rebma screamed.
"ARE YOU STUPID? IT'S A SHARK," yelled Rovert above the splashing of the water and the flailing of the beast.
"HOW DARE YOU CALL ME STUPID," Rebma shouted. "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW -"
The shark shrunk quickly in a flash of grey and Rovert pocketed it, where it remained in the inventory of their minds.
"I'll have you know I'm not qualified as a doctor for nothing," panted Rebma.
"You're right," he said apologetically. "You did play chess for three hours, after all."
But Rebma was still in a mood with Rovert. He decided he was too exhausted for an argument, having had no sleep due to the sheer excitement of the garden pond. He'd had no idea it was capable of rearing - withholding - such a mighty beast. At this rate, they could buy ten more flamingos, not to mention a chess table, and he could qualify - as a scientist. Maybe, just maybe, they'd get a TV, though they both held the opinion that they were much too mainstream, and so overrated, besides; I mean, thought Rovert, who needs a TV when you have flamingos to kick? Save fishing, it was one of his favourite pasttimes.
He had work in three hours, so he decided to have a shower. But when he came out, he realised he was late for work.
Where was Rebma, anyway? He decided to skip the day. What did he need work for when he had a shark to sell? Not only that, but he'd just dropped down with exhaustion onto the landing floor. There was no way he could go on.
He headed into the bedroom, only to find that Rebma was already in there, in full flow of conversation - with the mirror.
He tried to talk to her, but she was in a world of her own, and it would take hours before she finally tired of what she was doing; a lot to ask for the opportunity to be talked to, as the real Sim that he was, as opposed to a reflection. She was practising gestures well, he noted, but rambling - and smiling at herself far too much. He shook his head and walked into the kitchen, which so far consisted of a beverage maker (he helped himself), a fridge, and one free counter. He was a novice when it came to cooking, but it was clear that he could not wait for Rebma, so he decided to prepare himself a salad - but it was all going wrong.
"Oh, sweet plumbob of Sunset Valley!" he yelled angrily at the lettuce. "Why won't you just cut? Uh oh." He stepped back in alarm as a spark flew from the tip of the knife. A cloud of smoke appeared and suddenly, flames as orange as oranges were rising and licking the ceiling. With a wail, Rovert danced frightfully before the great amber tongues, the heat getting stronger and stronger.
Rebma came rushing from the bedroom and started to stand and scream at the fire.
"There's a fire! There's a fire!" Rovert squealed.
"Fire! Fire!" Rebma shrieked.
The great raging presence of furious flames had now engulfed the fridge and counter. Rovert would not let it take the beverage maker, too - !
"Woooooooh. Woooooooooooh."
Rebma stopped dancing momentarily, staring at him.
"Wooooh. Wooooooh."
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she screeched, jigging from one foot to the other again.
"Saving our lives, saving the beverage maker, I'm blowing it out, I'm trying to blow it out -"
Suddenly the flames roared and leaped onto the beverage maker. Rovert wailed and, in bewilderment, as he had just tried to make himself a coffee to wake himself up, stared at the fire. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the flames died down and faded before their eyes.
Then Rovert dropped to the floor.
Rebma cared not to wake him. She gazed at the pile of ash and the blackened floor where the fridge, beverage maker and counter had been.
Some kitchen.
She visited her mental inventory for a break and sold the shark, her eyes shining. The memories it brought were too bitter for her to keep it. If she had not attempted fishing, she would not have fallen over. If she'd not fallen over, Rovert wouldn't have come to investigate. If Rovert hadn't investigated, he would not have stayed up all night to catch a shark in the garden pond, then been too tired for work, and ultimately he would not have prepared himself a salad and the little kitchen they'd had would never have been burned down in the process.
What a mess.
She'd been in the middle of talking to herself in the mirror for roughly three hours. As a result, she'd happily gained enough social skills, she felt, to verbally combat her husband the next time he'd accuse her of being stupid, over the innocent mistake of simply thinking that a shark was (nothing more than) any very big fish.
With the Simoleons from the large fis - shark, Rebma thought she ought to give the nine flamingos each a partner when the times got tough and they got kicked just a little too much. With the money left over, she then bought another fridge and had a light nap for a while in a bid to forget the day.
When she woke, she thought she'd check on Rovert, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was inwardly pleased that he had gone back to work - not just because they needed the money, but because she was still fuming with him.
"Rebma! Don't go anywhere."
Oh, for the love of plumbob. He had not gone to work after all.
"Now I know you're still angry with me - "
"Are you saying that it's my fault?"
"No, of course not. High-five, by the way?"
She reluctantly agreed, and gave into a brief smile. Rovert realised the calming effect high-fives had on his wife, so they high-fived again. Before long, it had been an hour and they'd managed countless high-fives.
"Wow. An hour," Rovert remarked, checking his watch.
"Time flies. Look," sighed Rebma, "I forgive you. Just don't say such a thing again, OK?"
Rovert smiled. "Of course not. And if you don't mind, I'll leave the cooking to you."
Rebma rolled her eyes. "As long as only the kitchen's been burned down, and not the whole house."
"... This time." Wink. "I managed a fire, but I stuck to my own two feet," smirked Rovert. "Well, pre-exhaustion collapse. Now, I'd better sell that shark." He visited his mental inventory and panicked. "Where the bobbing plum is it?"
"I already sold it!" smiled Rebma. "One step ahead. The fridge and additional flamingo is on its way now."
"WHAT?" he shouted.
"Wh - what's wrong?"
"You bought a fridge and a flamingo? What about a bobbing beverage maker, did that ever cross your mind? How am I going to survive sleepless fishing nights now?"
"By not having sleepless fishing nights!" said Rebma. "Can't you see we're abandoning everything for that stupid pond?"
"Stupid pond?" breathed Rovert.
"Well, OK, I didn't mean - "
"Stupid pond?" he yelled. And without waiting for an answer, he stormed out of the house.
"Rovert!" shouted Rebma desperately. But he did not look back.
She sighed and relapsed to the garden, where she began kicking some flamingos. But she could not concentrate, because the nextdoor neighbours seemed to be having a party. She clenched her fists and marched round there.
"Hello, I'm Erb, how can I help you?"
Rebma stared down at the approximately five-year old girl, who was smiling widely. (The age was approximate, the gender wasn't.)
"Hello ... could I speak to your parents?"
Suddenly the girl burst into tears and ran back into the house. Rebma stared, perplexed. Clearly she hadn't been talking to herself in the mirror for as long as she'd thought.
Then a young woman in a leopard-skin skirt and red top appeared at the door. All very normal, except her hair was electric blue with the mannerisms of a spiky beehive. "Yeah?" she said lazily.
Hmm. "What do you mean, 'yeah'?" said Rebma rudely. She'd had it with - well, everyone and everything, today.
"I mean, yeah, what do you want?" the woman demanded. "I'm busy."
Before Rebma could open her mouth to reply, the little girl appeared at the woman's side, and stuck her tongue out, jabbing a chubby finger in Rebma's direction. "She said I had parents. I don't have parents, do I, Mum?"
Rebma closed her eyes for a second and inhaled deeply. "Look, could you please keep the noise down."
"What noise?" the woman smirked.
"Yeah, what noise?" echoed the daughter.
Rebma narrowed her eyes. "The ridiculous amount of noise from what you'd suppose is music from a party on a weekday." Snort. "Do - you - understand - me?" she said slowly.
"Party? There's three people here, love." And the woman slammed the door in her face. Rebma trooped dejectedly back to her house, and a few minutes later heard the volume cranked up even louder, obviously out of spite. She returned to the garden and kicked the flamingos forcefully in time with the bass.
Then she realised she'd shut herself out, so walked all the way round to her front door, only to find Rovert - on the ground, snoozing. She stepped over him and tapped at his face.
"Schnoodlehort," he mumbled.
"Rovert."
"SCHNOODLEHIZZLE!"
"ROVERT, WAKE UP!"
With a slap, his eyes snapped open. "You."
Rebma sighed. "I'm sorry about earlier, OK? Now I need to ask you something."
"Yes?" he grumbled, picking himself up with a hand from his wife.
"How do you sleep with all of that racket?" She jerked a thumb in the backwards direction. "Maybe I should take up sleepless nighttime fishing."
Rovert smiled weakly, and they headed inside. Rebma phoned the police, and roughly half an hour of thumping later, there was a wail of a siren before nothing but silence.
The couple went to bed peacefully, and despite everything, Rebma was just glad that Rovert wasn't fishing for once.
Little did she know that he was dreaming she had been eaten by the shark.