AllFreeNovel
Share Us
That poor single mother is going to have a cabbage thrust in her face in the dead of night while she’s in bed… Concerned Ape giving us a Key to the Town, which allows us to enter any home no matter the usual operating hours, is almost as hilarious as him letting us drink mayonnaise in the latest update. Most delightful dev ever, I swear.
I say, “I left one in my fridge.”
“Got it!”
Brigid plows on as though we never cut into her deposition at all, “—there has to be some underlying reason Marsh is on the market for a wife. Did you ask why he needs one before Christmas, specifically?”
“I asked if he was going to lose a trust fund. He told me this wasn’t a romcom.”
Penny gasps. “That’s not a no.”
“Allowing his no to have any weight implies he wouldn’t lie to you. He’s a thriving business owner. He absolutely knows how to lie.”
“Smart liars don’t lie. Too much to keep track of.” Penny giggles. “It’s all about reading between the lines.”
In the game, the clock in the top corner of my screen turns an angry red as we near pass out time, so I leave my monster-beating therapy to make a mad dash back to the farm. “I’m very bad at reading between the lines.”
“We know,” Brigid comments.
My already heinous slouch worsens when I pass out two feet from my in-game bed. “I have nothing but hate in my soul.”
Penny giggles again. “We know that, too.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “So one vote yes, one vote no?” I’m supposed to be reviewing Mr. Marsh’s list of answers tonight and really giving this some serious thought before tomorrow; however, the mines. They call to me. I yearn for them. And it’s better to take such a decision before the council anyway.
“Oh, absolutely not no,” Brigid says. “I’ve been organizing a list on my other monitor. Pros and cons, level of importance depicted through repeating points as necessary. If we assume he’s being honest and there’s no angle, this doesn’t seem too bad no matter how you slice it. How large a sum of money are we talking just to go through with dating Marsh for a few months?”
“Ample,” I mumble, and trot to my beloved in-game coffee machine. If I had automatic coffee each morning, real life conditions would improve drastically. Unfortunately, I can’t actually afford coffee until Mr. Marsh lets me add one to the breakfast order he pays for.
Maybe that’s a pro for him.
He provides me with the pennies required to feed myself each day.
“Should I designate three or five lines as ‘money’ on the pro side, in all caps?” Brigid asks.
“Is that the only pro?” I mumble and neglect to mention the coffee thing. Because I hate him and all that.
“Absolutely not.”
“What’s something else that’s a pro?”
“Your boss is very hot.”
I think I throw up a little of my fake coffee. Even though my little pixelated sprite character hasn’t so much as drunk it yet. Wild.
“I love his hair. Can you put his pretty hair in the pro list, please?” Penny says as she, adorably, pops into my house and kitchen to offer me a rock. Penguin pebbling. Little, non-verbal I love you’s. It’s a gesture the three of us have had since we were all freshmen in high school, and I still have a bucket of non-virtual stones from Penny and Brigid in the corner of what would be my bedroom.
If I owned a bed.
“Is his pretty hair a valid pro, Marci? If you confirm that his attractiveness holds weight, I can list ‘hot’ five times, in all caps.”
Penny’s little avatar for this farm—a fully white in the hair and eyes disaster of a thing named “Smartfood” after the white cheddar popcorn—dances back and forth in front of me. “What do you say, Marciboo? Hot, rich husband, with pretty hair long enough to put tiny braids in. Many pros in that sentence. Many pros indeed.”
“I think we’re missing a pretty big point. He’s spent the past two months with customer service me. And he only got the tiniest taste of real me this morning. I am not okay with marrying someone for their money and condemning myself to a lifetime of customer service.”
“Real you is the you right now, right?” Penny asks. “Real you is a little shrimp on the couch, scowling at her screen, right?”
I blink, become aware of my face, and learn the momentary smile I experienced a few minutes ago is long gone. “Calling me a shrimp is not good for morale.”
