Friday, June 20, 2008

A Three-Donut Vacation: II. A Life of Virtual Crime

Inconpicuous Getaway Car. Most of the Smoke is Coming from the Volcano

The Infamous Fashionista Bandits. Sweetie is wearing Nonna Hedges, Chey R. Fyre.

Written 19 June, 2008

A Three-Donut Vacation

II. A Life of Virtual Crime

Constant reader, I take you now, via that convenient literary tool called flashback, to the not-so-distant past—for I must relate the events that led Sweetie and me to the first-class compartment of a hijacked plane.

It started when we bought Whimsy.

“Where are we going to get $295 US for tier?” I wailed.

“You should have thought of that before you bought a sim,” said Sweetie smugly.

“Our landowners and renters bring us about $85 US, and sales from the store amount to about $2 US daily, and we’ve taken in tips worth $32 Lindens. Where will we get the rest?”

So began our life of virtual crime and high fashion.

It was Sweetie’s idea, of course—but if we’re ever brought to justice I’ll fall on my sword and claim it was entirely my own. Sweetie is too artistically sensitive to survive in an environment as ugly as a prison. She would be dying to tweak and all the objects would be no mod. It would be a horrible fate.

We began by robbing the last remaining branch of the Ginko Bank. Ginko is gone now, of course, banned and good riddance, by the Lindens— but due to a faulty sim rollback, there one stood. I rezzed our getaway car (a 1957 Primouth, a completely anonymous vehicle), and we approached the building.

“Quick. Slip this on your head,” Sweetie said, and handed me a .5 x .5 x .5 plywood prim.

“Sweetie, we have hundreds of avatars,” I said. “Dragons, trees, whales, blimps, grandfather clocks, rocks, robots, roaches, fish, birds, hedgehogs, skunks, bears, angels, devils, imps, and the notorious test female and test male. Why a box?”

“Just do it,” she said. “You’ll see why later.”

“Shouldn’t we change into something more apropos,” I asked. “Like prison stripes?”

“No,” she said. “Our splendid attire is the whole point. Now hurry! We have to act before they reverse this anomalous sim rollback.”

“I’ll say it’s anomalous,” I said. “It’s pre-flexi. Must be from 2006. Makes you wonder how far back the backups go.”

“Shhhh!” whispered Sweetie. “No talking. I left my voice changer at home. We’ll do it all in chat.”

Prim boxes obscuring our heads, we burst through the door.

“This is a rubbery,” typed Sweetie. “Everyone on the fluor.”

Nobody moved.

“She means floor,” I said, and everybody dropped.

“Drop all the money in this attractive virtual Gucci handbag,” said Sweetie. “And you!” she nodded her prim box head at a teller. “Your earrings. They’re fabulous.”

“Do you really like them?” the teller asked.

I menaced the teller with my freebie watermelon gun. “Just do it!”

Soon we were hearing ka-ching! sounds as money from the tellers’ drawers hit our Gucci tip bag. $300L. $900L. $1349 L.

“That’s enough!” I said. “Let’s go!”

“Not yet,” said Sweetie. And to the bank manager: “Open the vault.”

“I don’t have the combination,” he cried.

“Not a problem,” said Sweetie. She tried to rez a prim and failed.

“Turn build on,” she said.

The manager smiled nervously. “I can’t do that, ma’am, but I can add you to the Ginko group.” Straightaway we got group invitations.

Wearing the group tag, Sweetie rezzed a cube, sat on it, lassoed it, and, using the edit menu, moved herself into the vault. I heard a muffled voice say (I think) “Got it,” and she was by my side again.

“Kill that prim,” I said, “or they’ll know who we are.”

“Of course we’ll know who you are. We can see the tags over your heads,” said the bank manager. Right away I could see he was wishing he hadn’t.

“How much do you make for managing this bank?” Sweetie asked.

“I get 4L every 10 minutes,” he said. “Those bastard Ginkos!”

Sweetie tipped him $100L. “And who will you say robbed your bank?”

“Uh, two gorgeous ladies with prims on their heads?”

Sweetie stared at him. She said, “No, two gorgeous ladies with prims on their heads and gowns by Defleur and Nonna Hedges. And be sure not to forget that last part.” And we were away.

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