Don was a survivor and quickly figured out how to live on the streets of Oasis Springs. He was amazed how many people would leave perfectly good food on the picnic tables. The Solar Flare Lounge attracted older Sims who were more than happy to spend the afternoon with Don, buying him Fizzy Fruity drinks as they chatted. The Solar Flare had seen better days and definitely better entertainment (WooHoo occasionally still performed there but Don never saw them). For Don, it was cool refuge from the glaring desert sun and a good place to wash up. He learned the best way to spend his nights was at the bar, especially Ghost Night. All Don had to do was to listen to the sad stories of the dearly departed and the bartender was more than happy to give him a complimentary Juice on the Rocks or two. The Rattlesnake Juice Bar began welcoming Don nightly because he brought in paying customers with his easy manners. After filling his stomach with chips and free drinks, Don would stagger across the street and choose a bench to sleep on. As long as he never slept in the same place two nights in a row, the cops, llamas, and vamps wouldn’t bug him. Sleeping under the starry night was actually pleasant.
After a few weeks of street life, Don realized he needed to figure out something else. He began dreaming of a bed, regular meals, and long, hot showers. Benches, chips, leftover burgers, and public restrooms were getting old fast.
One evening, Don was approached by a very friendly gal who bought him a Salty Llama. He was more than happy to listen to her brag about all her material possessions. Actually, it was a relief after hours of listening to the other patrons bragging about object possession. Eliza was cute, very flirty, and a redhead. (Don always said he “had a thing for redheads. And blondes, brunettes, raven-haired, and every color in between.”) Maybe Eliza was the ticket to a more stable life.
Don realized he’d been lonely, missing the sweet touch of another Sim. Ghosts just weren’t the same, and he was over Nina. After four months, he was so over her. Beyond over her. So following the Lothario creed and fortified by five (or six?) Salty Llamas and a bowl of olives, Don followed Eliza outside to a more private location in front of the Rattlesnake.
The last thing Don remembered before awakening with a splitting headache — what was in those Salty Llamas? — was the thrill of the kiss. His back ached; this was quite an uncomfortable bench. As the room came into focus, Don realized he was sleeping on a cheap bed and there was a vaguely familiar guy in an iconic robe and white socks watching him. Don’s head was still fuzzy, his mouth dry. He rolled over to catch some more zzz’s.
“I’m Bob,” the guy said. Don pretended to be asleep. “Eliza’s husband. You might recognize me from that commercial.” Don remembered the boring ad but stayed motionless. “Anyway, ” Bob continued, “Eliza said you were too Llama’d up, so she brought you home for a sleepover.”
Don sat upright. “With you?” he asked, alarmed.
“Where else?” Don had nothing to say in reply and Bob continued on, not seeming to expect a reply. “I’ll make you a stack of pancakes. They’ll be ready after you shower.” He shuffled out of the strange bedroom/office/workout room that seemed to be his.
Don enjoyed his long, hot shower, whistling as he scrubbed behind his ears and under his arms. He put on his underwear and went back into the bedroom to figure out where he’d left his t-shirt and jeans. Don loosely remembered some of the more interesting parts of the night before, but it was still mostly a blur. Eliza popped into the bedroom as Don was still searching for his missing clothes. She didn’t seem to mind, chatting away while Don stood there awkwardly wearing only his skivvies.
“You mentioned you were looking for a job.” Eliza was disgustingly perky at such an early hour. “Burners and Builders is hiring. I’m heading over after breakfast so come with me, and I’ll put in a good word with the owner.”
What did he have to lose? An hour later with his belly full of the fluffiest pancakes — they literally floated off the griddle onto his plate — Don knew he had his mojo back.