@wfgodot Thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed the return of the hot dog suit. I loved the popcorn shot, too. That was completely unplanned, but it's probably my favorite.
@oshizu Yup, Wendell and Ruby got acquainted in CAS when he went to visit wfgodot's sims, and Brodie was the result. I think he's super gorgeous! The backing it up shot was another unplanned one, but it cracked me up.
@Alex Thanks! Yeah, I think Cressida got a kick out of her job. And that "subtly debase" interaction is no joke! Mallory was so sad none of that creepy playful stuff even fazed her.
I agree. I think Wendell is one of very few sims who can work a hot dog suit so effectively.
V: Mrs. Pringlefeather's Lament
Pernille: Wow. Mine’s really pretty. It reminds me of
Nid d’Amour, Mrs. Pringlefeather’s summer home in . . what’s that?
*hurried, yet delicate footsteps*
Mrs. Pringlefeather: Pernille! Darling! Oh, thank heavens you’re here! I’m desperate! You must assist me!
Pernille: Mrs. . . Pringlefeather? How . . . ?
MP: There’s no time for all that now! We’ve got to make a plan. They’re coming!
Pernille: But, I didn’t write magical realism. My specialty was straight-up steamy, cheesy romance. This doesn’t fit at all!
MP: Oh, honestly! If I didn’t have five jilted ex-husbands, all expert swordsmen, angrily bearing down on me right now I’d slap you. Could we focus?
Don: I’m afraid she’s right, Pernille. They’re large, they’re angry, they’re wounded, and they’re coming this way. Hello again, Xenobia. You’re looking well.
MP: As are you, Donald.
Pernille: Wait, you two know each other?
Don: We *ahem* may have become acquainted in a different file. Excuse me! You’ve got blond, silky locks incoming at about twenty paces. I’ll see if I can slow the other ones down, but you’d better come up with a plan, and fast!
Rolf: XENOBIAAAAA! My heart must have its revenge! You won’t escape me this time!
MP: Oh, dear. Always so passionate. Never one for a chat over tea, that guy.
Pernille: I remember. *sigh* You can’t really blame him, though, he’s got all those issues from being disinherited at such a young age due to a tragic misunderstanding and having only pirates as father figures after that.
MP: Ain’t it the truth? Poor little puppy. I’d better comfort him.
MP: Oh, Rolf! No matter how I run from you, I always seem to end up back in your arms.
Rolf: Right where you belong, my angel. Your slender waist fits perfectly within my rough, seafaring fingers. You are home at last, perfect one, and now-
Arturo: WHAT IS THIS? Xenobia! Why are those man’s calloused fingers tracing the delicate lace of your gloves like they’ve done it many times before?
MP: Pernille? Little help?
Pernille: HEY! Hey, there. Arturo, right? Mrs. Pringlefeather’s fourth husband? The gypsy posing as a nobleman in order to serve his sacred duty in the army and protect the identity of his half-brother who ran off to join a
commedia dell’arte troupe?
Arturo: How do you know about that? Who are you? Why do you seem so oddly familiar?
Pernille: Come over to this convenient picturesque bench, and I’ll explain everything.
Arturo: All right, I’ll listen because I feel an inexplicable connection to you, the secret to which I must discover or perish in the attempt, but I’m still angry and very skeptical, and I haven’t ruled out making use of my unmatched skills with a saber!
Pernille: I understand completely. I know how this looks. Mrs. Pringlefeather has gone off into the shrubbery with a pirate, and you’re here with a strange elderly woman in immodest clothing, but I promise you, I’m definitely going to have an explanation for all of that by the . . .time . . . I . . . finish . . . this . . .sentence. Okay, got it!
Pernille: Tell me, Arturo, do you remember the day you met Mrs. Pringlefeather?
Arturo: Of course! Every moment! It seems like yesterday . . .
Arturo: I had just returned from battle, weary and footsore. I wandered away from my regiment and came across a cool fountain where I stopped to wash the dirt of the road from my skin. The water was clear as crystal and as cool as a snow queen’s kiss. My aching muscles couldn’t resist its call, and before I knew it I was cavorting in the fountain’s spray like a boy.
Arturo: Suddenly, as if stepping out of a dream, she appeared at the top of the staircase, fresh as a new spring day, innocent as its first crocus, and more beautiful than sin.
Arturo: I was caught off guard, naked and exposed, but I knew it was meant to be that way. She saw my innermost self the moment she first laid eyes on me, and I gave it to her, gladly. With my eyes I laid my soul upon a salver for her to claim, and without a single thought she plunged headlong into the fountain with me to seize it!
Pernille: Mmmmm. Yes. I remember. I loved that scene. The light was so perfect. The first rays of morning sun just waking up the stones of that hidden grotto. The water’s spray caressing the lip of the fountain. So lovely.
Arturo: Why, Pernille! You talk as if you were there.
Pernille: Oh, I was there. You didn’t see me but I was definitely a witness.
Arturo: At any rate, it was only a matter of moments before my arms enfolded her, claiming her in return, clutching her in a fervent embrace whose fire could never be fully quenched. It was beyond me, greater than me, and I had no choice but to be swept away with it, carried out to sea and dashed on the rocks of my own overpowering lust.
Pernille: Wow. That is one heck of mixed metaphor. Did I write that? Where was my editor on that one?
Arturo: It was you, wasn’t it? I see it now! It was you smiling back at me from behind her eyes the whole time.
Pernille: Whoa! You jumped to that conclusion pretty quickly. I mean, I know I made you a genius, but still . . .
Arturo: The whole time, it was your fervent, hot-blooded soul pulling the puppet strings. Your essence cried out to me, begging to be known. I know you, now, Pernille. I know you for who you truly are, authoress, and I love you. I must have you! Run away with me, darling, and let us leave this endless shrubbery labyrinth behind. I can free you from all of this! I can give you what you desire!
Pernille: Oh, Arturo! I can’t! I mustn’t! I dasn’t! I . . . .I . . .
Goopy: WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE?!?!?!
Pernille: Goopy! This isn’t what it looks like!
Arturo: Pernille, darling! Who is this incredibly handsome deceased man? And how can I defend your honor if he has no body for me to duel?
Pernille: Arturo, this is my husband, Goopy. Goopy, this is Arturo, Mrs. Pringlefeather’s fourth husband. The one who looks exactly like you. You can’t be jealous of him. You’re identical!
Goopy: I . . .
I can’t be jealous? I don’t think you know who you’re talking to. I’m Goopy Gray. I’m jealous of that bench you were just sitting on. I’m jealous your parents have known you longer than I have. I’m jealous of the grass under your knee, the air you breathe, and the hair on your head.
Arturo: It’s true! Your hair gets to touch your cheek constantly, day and night! It isn’t fair! I demand the same privilege!
Pernille: Oh, dear.
Mrs. Pringlefeather: Pernille! I’m back! Rolf and I agreed we can never truly be happy together until he completes his quest to find the lost treasure of the
Flor de la Mer, so that should keep him busy for a few decades. What’s going on here?
Goopy: Besides, that man looks nothing like me! He has a monocle! I don’t have a monocle! And look how muscular he is! And he has chest hair. I hope it hasn’t been so long since you’ve seen my chest that you’ve forgotten it’s as bare as a baby’s bottom.
Pernille: No, no. I haven’t forgotten that.
MP: Arturo, come with me. Our path is clear now, and we can brave the next adventure hand in hand!
Arturo: No, you’re too late. I love Pernille, now.
MP: Excuse me, WHAT? Pernille, you were just supposed to be distracting him, not seducing him.
Pernille: It just happened! I’m still not sure exactly what happened!
MP: UGH! Come on. I’ve found a way through the maze. We can at least sort this out inside where it’s warm.
MP: Phew! I forgot how exhausting it is to be me.
Pernille: You’re not kidding! I’ve never had to do it in person before. I am way too old for this. At least we haven’t met any more of your ex-husbands in awhile.
*FWOOOSH*
Pernille: Oh! Etienne the vampire lover! This could get ugly.
Arturo: What? Another one? Xenobia, I demand to know who this is!
MP: Aha! You're jealous! I knew you still loved me!
Arturo: Oh, curse my tender, traitorous heart!
MP: Darling!
Etienne:
NON! I cannot even look at your perfect porcelain face at this moment. I am so deeply wounded by your heartless rejection and abandonment. I have lived for thousands of years, feasting upon the blood of others, but I can wholeheartedly say that nothing in all that time has wounded me as deeply as your eyes, my precious Xenobia!
Pernille: Wow. This is really getting juicy.
MP: My undead love, please! Let me explain!
Etienne: I told you!
Non! I will hear no more of your honeyed words. They are poison! You will accompany me inside, where your fate awaits you.
MP: My . . . fate?
Etienne:
Oui!
Pernille: Ooh! A wedding! But who’s the groom?
MP: *gasp* Mr. Pringlefeather!
Pernille: Oh, of course! The original. The first. I should have known.
Mr. Pringlefeather: The time has come, Xenobia. You must make your choice! Your lovers stand arrayed before you, and no one leaves this room until somebody gets married.
Pernille: Wait, who’s the pale guy? I thought he was just here to perform the marriage.
Benoit: I was, but in addition to being a minister I am also secretly the Baron Benoit de Papillon, and have been harboring a covert, forbidden love for Mrs. Pringlefeather for many years.
Pernille: Of course. Well, Xenobia honey, that’s quite a buffet you’ve got there. Which one do you want?
MP: None of them! Pernille, you know as well as I do that my scientific research has barely begun! I’m supposed to leave on safari at dawn to search for a rare, exotic blossom with the power to cure any illness. My gorgeous assistant Rudolfo is waiting onboard my ship, Larmes des Sirènes, as we speak! I can’t be distracted by marriage right now. I have vitally important work to do!
Pernille: Well, then I guess there’s only one solution.
Pernille: Goopy, my darling, will you make my dreams come true, save my family, and release us from this damask prison by becoming my husband again?
Goopy: Oh, Pernille! This is so unexpected! I don’t know what to say!
Goopy: Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!
MP: Phew! That’s a relief!
Arturo: Again with the loopholes! It’s like someone is writing them in on purpose! And now we’re all left on the hook again! Curse you, Xenobia! And curse you, Pernille, you beautiful, enchanting puppet-master!
MP: Ah, yes! Victory! Xenobia Pringlefeather survives to love another day!
Pernille: Phew! I have to say, my trial was downright fun! I’d do that all over again!
Goopy: I may need a five minute break. I am physically and emotionally exhausted.
MP: Pernille, darling, it’s funny you mention doing it again. You see, I’ve just met Taeyang here who seems to have been thrown in as a bonus, and I’m dying to get a bit better acquainted . . .
Pernille: Ah, well. Twist my arm. I forgot how much I loved writing!
Mrs. Pringlefeather will return in Black Widow: a bias-wrecking romp through time and space! Coming this fall! Don’t miss it! Pre-orders already available at your local bookseller!
