The Art of Diplomacy (Part II)

Day 8, Monday, 9:14 PM

I wasn’t kidding last time when I called our house the loony bin. This house is a bin if I ever saw one, and we are the loonies. LOO-NIES. I could give you more evidence of that, but first I want to tell you all about my completely weird job.

After my phone conversation with Joel, a very sad and very decrepit carpool car picked me up from the loony bin, drove me out into the country, and deposited me in front of this hulking yellow villa that seemed to rise up out of nowhere.

I wandered towards what I hoped was the “office” entrance of the house, but I wasn’t sure, because there weren’t any signs anywhere. I mean, how do you choose between two front doors? Thankfully, I picked the right one. (Hey, there’s a first time for everything.)

Franchesca Diaries

I walked in, expecting the ambassador herself to be sitting there…um, ambassading…but instead I saw a man in a spiffy suit. He was tap-tapping away on his keyboard, completely oblivious to my presence.

Franchesca Diaries

I had to resort to the dreaded “ahem” and “excuse me, but…” in order to get his attention. He glanced at me as if I were a bug crawling on the carpet.


“Is this Della Gallego’s office? I’m Franchesca Mortinez. I’m here for the intern job.”

He rose and strode towards me, his perfectly-sculpted eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “Ah, yes. Well. My name is David Alphonse-Rubio, and I am Ms. Ambassador’s assistant. You’ll be taking direction from me unless Ms. Ambassador has a particular task for you to complete.”

Franchesca Diaries

I looked to my right and spied Ms. Ambassador through a set of glass doors, tap-tapping away at her keyboard. Apparently there’s a lot of tap-tapping going on in the world of diplomacy.

“Now, I have quite a lot of work to do,” said Mr. David Alphonse-Rubio, making a slight grimace at my houndstooth jumper, “so it would help me greatly if you would prepare a cup of coffee for Ms. Ambassador and take her poodle Pumpernickel for a walk. You’ll find both coffee and poodle through that door. And whatever you do, don’t talk to the boy.”

“The boy?”

“Ms. Ambassador’s son. Try to ignore him as much as humanly possible.”

Mr. Whatsisface returned to his desk and resumed his purposeful tap-tapping. I think I must have stood there gawping for a good 20 seconds before I fully digested what he had told me. I was suppose to ignore Ms. Ambassador’s son? Is that what diplomats do, ignore people? Good gravy.

Entering the very classy kitchen (my mom would LOVE it), I saw The Boy. He was eating what looked like a slab of charcoal. He was my roughly my age, maybe a few days younger.

Franchesca Diaries

I did my best to walk right past without so much as a glance. It was actually pretty easy – I just pretended he was Rico and that I was mad at him.

Nevertheless, he spoke to me through a mouthful of scorched toaster pastry.

“Hey, you must be the new girl. I’m Thatcher. I go to Middlemount.”

Middlemount…I’d heard of it. It’s one of those fancy-shmancy private schools. I was intrigued, but I continued to ignore him. The last thing I wanted to do was incur the wrath of David Alphonse-Rubio or Ms. Ambassador my first day on the job.

Franchesca Diaries

Thatcher didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t saying anything. He just went right on talking while I made the coffee.

“That’s a nice dress. Kind of retro. Do you like old music? I bet you do. You look like you’d be cool that way. I collect old record albums. My mom does, too, but she never listens to ‘em. Guess what? I have one of the original Paradimes albums from way back. It’s in good condition, too. My mom used to be a huuuge Paradimes fan when she was a kid. She has a piece of the bedsheets that Danny Paradime slept in when he stayed at the Fedoria Hotel.”

Under any other circumstances, I would have bounded up to this kid and said, “Ohmygosh! I love the Paradimes! Blah blah blah blah BLAH!” and we would have gabbed for a million years about old music and junk like that. But I stood firm and kept my eyes fixed on the coffeemaker.

Franchesca Diaries

“Have you ever been to Fedoria?” he continued. “It’s in the mountains, and they still have a King and Queen. And a princess, too. I’ve heard that they keep her locked up all the time and only let her out to go skating on their private ice rink. I wonder why they keep her locked up. Do you think she’s a little wacked out? Or are her parents just over-protective? I have my own theories…”

The coffeemaker dinged, and I removed the mug of steaming java. I pretended I didn’t want to hear anything about a princess who is kept locked up, even though I was dying to ask him about it. As I passed by he finally stopped talking and just stared forlornly into space. I felt bad.

Franchesca Diaries

“Sorry,” I whispered, booking out of there as quickly as I could without spilling the coffee.

David Alphonse-Rubio didn’t even look at me as I breezed by on my way to Della’s office. He seemed to be very intent on what he was typing. I hoped I wasn’t in trouble already.

“You can put the coffee on the desk,” Ms. Ambassador said as I opened the door. She glanced over for a moment, ran her dark eyes disapprovingly over me, and turned her attention back to whatever spectacularly important thing seemed to be happening on her computer screen.

Franchesca Diaries

“Would you please fill Pumpernickel’s food dish when you return from your walk?” she asked, not looking at me. “And then you’re dismissed for the day. Thank you.”

I set the coffee down and stared at her, bewildered. That’s all I was here for? To make coffee and walk the dog? Oh well. I guess it’s an easy 72 Simoleons. But why couldn’t Thatcher or that David dude do it? Why hire someone?

Even worse…why hire someone and NOT EVEN LOOK AT THEM? Come on, lady! Hellooooo!

Franchesca Diaries

But she was too distracted. For a second I almost wished I had gotten the retirement home job instead. I bet those people talk to you, at least.

Well, Thatcher had talked to me. But I couldn’t talk to him. What kind of messed-up-ness is that?

(continued on Page 2)

22 thoughts on “The Art of Diplomacy (Part II)

  1. Aww, Thatcher even *looks* like a puppy! Even with those pale blue eyes, but they’re all angled in a sad fashion. He looks like he should be in a Victorian setting. Like one of those morbid little boys in an overly fussy satin suit, practically chained indoors so he won’t mess up his hair or god forbid get a tan. I like! :D
    I also really like how you’ve set up the ambassadorial building. All the trinkets really give it this well traveled feel. And Fran’s employers are uber-mysterious to the t!

  2. Cute update Jen! Sounds like one of those crazy chance cards…”Your boss tells you not to talk to her creepy son. Do you go for a skinny-dip with him, or not?” Heehee, I loved it!

  3. Poor Thatcher! I feel bad for him. I’m really looking forward to finding out what the deal is with the ambassador lady. And I hope Bernie likes his present! :-)

  4. Hi!
    Sorry to bug you on here, but I just joined Sim Scribes, and I’m having slight logging in problems. To be specific, the email account I put down isn’t used very much, and it was deactivated, so when I tried to access it to get the verification email… it was gone. I re-made it, but no I have an account with no way to access it. I figured if I contacted you on here you might be able to help me out…

    Anyways, love your site. And great update, as usual.

  5. Man, that kid doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends…and I can understand why, his mom probably thinks no one’s good enough for him, poor boy.

  6. Poor Thatcher, he looked so sad when Franchesca didn’t talk to him. Even though he seems a little strange… That house is beautiful! :)

  7. Aww, i like that thacher boy and the poodle but i’m not allowed to have a pet in my house,so i have lots of dogs in my sims family(they are constantly nagging why they have to get another set of puppies ‘evil grin’). Nice update!

  8. Did you decorate that house? I love it, its so clutterized and huge, coolness. I felt so bad for Thatcher, he was talking and Fran was sad. :( Oh well. The poodle is so cute! And tiny too, LOL.

  9. Thacter is. . . “unique” is what I’ll go with. Nice house (poodle too!) Who wants to go skinny-dipping with someone they just MET? Thankfully Fran has some common sense NOT to go with him. Her dad is STILL wearing that uguly. . ./thing?/ I agree with Weezy.
    By the way I take Takwando (black belt-so proud XD). If Bernie is any good at physical activity, concentrating, and listening he’ll do great. I hope he gets the chance to beat those bullies to a pulp.

  10. Teehee! This was a funny entry. Man, maybe there’s something in Riverblossom’s water or something that makes people freak way-the-hell OUT! *LOL* Franchesca was there for like … what … 30 minutes? And she dismissed for the day! Talk about a cushy job!

    Thatcher is very weird … but in an endearing way. Is he going to work his way into her heart do you suppose? Will they end up going to college together and becoming really close friends that develops into something more?

    Only time will tell!

  11. What a cool job, easy money. Lol it would seem as though everything in Frans life is weird. Shame the poor dude seems so lonely, maybe he just needs a friend.

  12. Strange job Fran has there. Thatcher definitely has a different personality but I wonder how much of that stems from having people ignore him. That can’t help one’s sanity. At least you wouldn’t think so. I wonder what will come from this job. Great job Jenba!

  13. Yay! Another great update. Poor Thatcher, I hope Fran befriends him & his Mom doesn’t get mad.

    This story is one of my favorites!

  14. Fran’s job seems cushy, but something feels off to me. Why doesn’t the Ambassador want anyone to talk to Thatcher? Why’s she canoodling with her assistant?

  15. Wow, talk about a creepy bunch over at the ambassadors place! I do love how you decorated it!!! Thatcher does seem a bit…weird, but I think he just needs some attention. I mean “Don’t talk to the boy,” come on!!!

  16. Jeez, Thatcher reminds me of a boy I used to chum around with when I was about 11 or 12, and I actually felt sorry for him. Right, I’m going back to my novel until the next update!

  17. Hi. Great second part. I kinda feel sorry for Thatcher it sounds like he hasn’t got any friends I mean if he did he would know it not usually a good idea to ask someone they just met to go swimming in their undies. But I don’t think he’s the pervy type though. and why was Fran told not to talk to him?.

    Keep Simming!

    See ya.

  18. hi i just started reading your stories and i LOVE them . I admire your creativity and I cant wait to see what happens next :)

  19. Anna – Were you able to get registered at SimScribes? If not, send me an e-mail! (There’s a link in my sidebar.)

    And thanks for all of the comments, everyone! :-D