 |
The new paperboy in this neighborhood is probably deranged. He walks the paper right
up to the front door, then takes it back down the stairs to the side yard ... |
 |
... where he either has his mind way, way blown, or he practices his melismatic
runs for his a cappella group that's gonna make it big one day. |
 |
| No, Stanley! Don't do it, you're being watched. |
 |
| Okay, fine - but just a small nibble. |
 |
| Frida and Rachel have always had a ... unique relationship. |
 |
| Today we find them greeting each other with a friendly, yet somber closed-fist breast bonking. |
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| Then, of course, a duet. It's going to take forever, though - it's Paradise By The Dashboard Light. |
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| By finishing with a snort, Rachel shows not only appreciation for Frida's vocalizations, but also her three favorite teeth. |
 |
| Now, give your pal a goodbye sniff and get back to holding your spoon awkwardly. |
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| I just love the stuff you make with your dusty batter. |
 |
Other than tasting babies, Stanley hasn't been up to much.
Although, he did stand next to his nephew while not talking about vegetables. |
 |
| And he's gotten himself involved in a few clusters. |
 |
| But mostly, he likes to sleep, perchance to dream ... about frying up a batch of baby formula soda. |
 |
| Stanley's not the only one enjoying le snooze. Rachel's become an expert napper. |
 |
| Charlie? He wants to twist the head off of your childhood. |
 |
| Suri ... is just being Suri |
 |
| "Still got it." |
 |
| As for Poppy, my guess is that she's having a challenging time accepting her new style |
 |
| It's the only reason I can see for getting into her formal wear to pout at the piano ... |
 |
| ... or stare hatefully at the shower, who never did anything to her. |
 |
Put down that damned book, Poppy - you've got a date! And you're definitely dressed
for just standing in a random place with some chucklehead with a weird tattoo. |
 |
| Gah! I hope that doesn't muss your hair. |
 |
| The date just started and he's already thinking about having a musical seizure. |
 |
| "I have a song stuck in my head. Have you heard it?" |
 |
| Hold up. Pump the brakes - did he just tell you that your breasts are like twin little dippers? |
 |
Yeah, you go ahead and give that turkey a good chewin'.
Then get your butt home - you will not believe what is happening there. |
 |
| This is the absolute worst thing to come home to. Some dumb brown bear meditating in front of your art. |
 |
| Charlie, this is no time for your shock operas. Things have gotten desperately real. |
 |
| Suri, would like to share with us what's more interesting than your brother going to the great beyond? |
 |
| This is the saddest screenshot I've taken in the 3+ years I've been playing this family. |
 |
| Just like that, it's over. Frida looks like she's in denial. Unfortunately, death isn't done with them. |
 |
| *sigh* I guess at least she's going in a pretty dress. |
 |
| I know, Frida, I know. Your two best friends, within minutes. |
 |
| Goodbye, Rachel. |
 |
| The End. |
~~~~~
After the death of Stanley and Rachel, I decided it was time to end the Rosenzweig story. I already felt as though I was wearing thin on things to write about them, and I didn't want to just keep stretching it out until it was absolute garbage. The game chose for me when to end, since I have never influenced death, except for the times I forgot I left death flowers in Rachel's and Stanley's inventories.
I have had an endless amount of fun writing this story. It felt like a job sometimes, but mostly it kept me sane. From the start, I've enjoyed every single person who read it and told me what they thought about it. Any person reading this story, or any part of my blog - even if you haven't made your presence known, has helped keep me sane.
I'll continue writing the Asylum story, which admittedly, may only be interesting to the people
in the Asylum, but I have been working on a new project, which you'll see here soon. Hopefully, if I can make it funny.
Thanks for reading.
.
