Divan wiggles his eyebrows at me with his chest puffed out like a satisfied gorilla. “Watch THIS, Creator.”
Pointing his finger, he says, “And furthermore, you always put the ending punctuation WITHIN the quotation marks for dialog. Not after.”
(Pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you, Divan?)
“I’ve got my successful lineage aspiration in the bag!” He snaps his fingers. “Make sure you write your name on the heading. I don’t want you to lose points to those annoying Goth brats.”
(Why don’t you give me a knuckle bump for a job well done for it is I who put those focusing lamps in the kitchen forcing your lazy offspring to do their homework.)
Divan knits his eyebrows. “You are responsible for that? No WONDER I couldn’t get Kaila in the sack last night. She was too FOCUSED on my huge biceps to even kiss me.”
(Er…Divan, can you see my face? It’s the I-don’t-really-care-about-your-woo-hoo-life face.)
“Nope. Can’t see it. I’m sure you’re huge with a round belly and a long white beard.”
(That’s Santa. Please don’t confuse us.)
“Speaking of Santa, I’d really like to take the kids to a place with snow for Christmas. Can that be arranged?”
(Well, that’s going to be kinda hard seeing as the beings who produced this rendition of your world didn’t think to allow for weather. I might be YOUR creator, but I am NOT responsible for any of its glitches, strange behavior on the part of your family and friends, nor the noncreative thinking that pertains to your world.)
(ETA: This was written before Seasons. Yes, we were desperate back in the day for weather. Huh boy. 🙄 Oh yeah, and before toddlers. YEESH!)
Divan swishes his eyelashes and gives me his cheeky grin. “Pleeeeese, Creator? I’ll love you forever and ever!”
(Oh…all right. I’ll see what I can do.)
At that moment, Hunter stomps in the room with a face that looks as if someone stole his disintegration ray.
“What’s the matter, son?” Divan asks. “Hard day at school? Here’s the leftover omelet from last night.”
Hunter waves his hand around. “What is this slop? Is this what you feed the future ruler of the world?”
(Oh, ick. He needs a shower. Divan, make him bathe.)
“You know I can’t do that. But I can bribe.” Turning to Hunter, Divan says, “If you take a bath, I promise to make you a fresh batch AND I’ll throw in a new super villain costume.”
Hunter’s eyes light up. “Really? With a cool helmet, face mask to hide my identity, and flowing menacing cape?”
Divan glances up at me.
Divan answers, “We’ll see.”
“Yay!” Hunter races into the bathroom so fast, I could barely see his blur.
(**Sigh** Why are you encouraging his evil fantasies, Divan?)
He shrugs. “Eh…he’ll grow out of it.”
After a shower and a change of clothing, Hunter is all smiles, smelling the buttery omelet his dad is holding for him.
“Here you go, son,” Divan holds up the plate. “Fresh out of the pan.”
After Hunter gobbles his eggs down, he talks about his plans for the costume. “Now it can’t look goofy like Count Dracula’s cowl. I want to exude villainy like Darth Vader but not totally like him cuz you know, I’m me.”
Divan chews on his cheesy eggs. “That sounds reasonable.” He doesn’t glance up at me on purpose because he knows he’ll get an earful.
The next morning, Divan and Kaila are fighting out on the lawn. “We are going on a trip to the mountains for Christmas and that’s that,” Divan bellows, raising his finger.
Kayla crosses her arms. “You’re only doing this because you don’t want to spend the holidays with my family.”
Shrugging, Divan says, “You have to admit, Kaila, they’re strange. Your mother talks to herself all the time and your father thinks he’s an alien. I can’t spend another Christmas looking over my shoulder. He’s always trying to act like he’s searching my brain.”
“You take that back! My father is suffering from a little dementia and my mother is no different from you. YOU talk to yourself all the time!”
“There better be snow on the ground and all the decorations up, or I’m leaving for Oasis Springs.”
“Fine. Hello, Brianna? Pack your things, we’re going to Granite Falls for Christmas!”
The whole family zips over to Granite Falls on Christmas Eve.
Snow is sparkling. Lights are twinkling. Surely, this will be a Christmas to remember!
“Well, Kaila? What do you think?” Divan asks.
Kaila claps her hands. “You’ve outdone yourself, mutton cakes.”
Divan smirks. “How could you have ever doubted me?”
(She knows you. That’s how.)
Shaking his fist at me, he says, “Can I have one day without your pithy comments, Creator?”
(Only if you don’t deserve the pith.)
Grumbling, Divan heads for the front door.
Christmas spirit is in the air and Hunter gives his sister, Lindsey, a warm hug.
But it doesn’t take long and the holiday fighting commences.
“Aw, geez, Brianna. Go fart somewhere else!” Hunter flaps his hands, waving at the stench.
“I didn’t pass gas. That was your upper lip!”
(Here we go…)
Divan storms over. “Come on, you two. It’s Christmas. Where’s the holiday cheer?”
“I can’t help it, Dad,” Hunter cries. “Brianna smells bad.”
Shaking her head, Brianna huffs, “Now I understand why I moved out. Tell dog breath to leave me alone.”
“Enough,” Divan yells. “If you have to, separate and don’t talk to each other. I want a peaceful Christmas.”
“Fine,” Brianna nods. “I’ll go exploring with Lindsey.”
“That’s the spirit,” Divan says as heads over to unlock the house.
“Oh muttoncakes…” Kaila chirps.
Divan stops like a dog that’s been called by his master.
“I am SOOO getting lucky on this trip.”
As Hunter enters, he notices a round type object above the door.
“I wonder if Christmas balls could be substituted for snowballs in a snowball fight.”
(That evil mind is always scheming!)
As the family enters, already Brianna tries her hand at cooking but gives up and sits down at the table, staring into space.
(There was a reason I didn’t choose her as the heir!)
So, Divan remedies the situation and goes right to work making the family a meal.
But Levi can’t wait and eats a bowl of Fruit Bloopies instead.
“I like my elf hat, Dad. Do you think Santa will take me home with him, thinking I’m one of his minions?”
Hunter rolls his eyes. “Don’t ever say minions if you don’t know what it means. Santa can’t have minions because he’s good. Now the Grinch is a different story. He can have minions. Get your terminology correct, shorty.”
That night, Lindsey runs off to explore the scenery.
(Wow! I misjudged her. That shows out of the simbox thinking. Maybe she should be the next heir!)
(***head smacks desk***)
She’s bombarded by flies as she leaves.
(Yes, little one—that bathroom is nasty! Why the heck did you want to use that one???)
But she can’t hear me…sigh…
“How do you like this amazing dinner I roasted?” Brianna asks, cutting into her perfectly grilled meat.
“I’m not hungry. I still have poop smell in my nose.”
Brianna stops. “Ew…why does my family have to be so gross?”
(Why indeed, Brianna.)
(But I have a question for you. Why are you wearing six-inch boots out in the wilderness???)
Once the girls make it back to the house safely, Divan decides to throw a party and amaze his family with his musical talent. Even the maid, cook, pianist, and bartender are entranced!
(I think it’s because the NPC’s are lazy! You should tell them to get back to work, Divan! There’s even cookies on the floor! What are you paying all these people good money for?)
Divan’s eyes bug out and he speaks through clenched teeth, “Not now, Creator, I’m getting to the good part in Good King Wenceslas!”
(All right. Then don’t blame me when you have a house full of strangers eating your food and drinking your spiked punch!)
Divan tickles the ivories in an astounding display of beautiful notes. “I won’t, Creator.”
Divan looks at me. “Oh, and Creator?”
(***smiles*** Merry Christmas, Divan!)