User:K6ka/drafts/sims/Fanon:Dreamer family (K6ka)

Template:PropertyTemplate:EvolveTemplate:Fanon-uc Template:Family2 The Dreamer family is a family in my version of Pleasantview. It consists of Darren Dreamer, the widower, and his son Dirk.

They are the second poorest family in Pleasantview, next to the Brokes. While Darren enjoys painting, he hasn't finished enough to pay off the bills. With Darren's financial crisis, the repo-man isn't too far away...

Meanwhile, Dirk has recently recovered after his bad encounter with a D- at school. He is almost an A+ student by the time the game begins. He may bring Lilith Pleasant home from school.

Prologue

Darren Dreamer wants to paint for a living, but does he have the skills to pay the bills? Those past-due statements are starting to pile up...

Part 1. A typical morning

It was just before dawn.

Darren rolled over in his bed, wishing for sleep to come back and keep him in his fantasies for another five minutes. He threw the covers over his head, hoping it would help bring sleep back. It didn't.

He tried shielding his head with the pillow, but it only made it difficult to breathe. He tried putting his arm over his eyes, but his arm soon felt cold, and he buried it back underneath the blankets. The fidgeting continued until sunlight streamed through the windows and onto his eyelids, tickling them until they surrendered and opened.

Blinding light was all Darren could see. If this was God, he thought, I'd ask Him dearly to give me five more minutes.

But alas, it seems the five minutes had come... and gone. Time to get up.

It was a lovely June morning. Darren cracked open the window and let the fresh morning air in. The birds were chirping, the wind a gentle breeze, and the horizon a beautiful hue of red and orange as the sun peered over it and onto Pleasantview.

The sight lifted his spirits, and for the first time in a long while, he didn't think of Darleen's death in the morning. He got dressed quickly and exited his bedroom.

He headed downstairs and knocked softly on Dirk's bedroom door. "Time to wake up, rise and shine!" he said. "It's so nice outside, I thought it was something out of a postcard."

"What time is it?" a sleepy voice answered.

"15 past 6," Darren replied. "No really, just come out and see for yourself! This isn't a morning where you want to sleep in!"

The groaning of springs could be heard. "Alright, I'll be out in five minutes," was Dirk's reply.

---

"So, are you going to Cassandra's wedding on Saturday?" Dirk asked.

"I dunno... maybe, but I just can't stand watching her say 'I do!' to that Lothario twat," Darren replied. "Besides, how many girlfriends does that guy have, 20?"

Dirk stared at his toaster pastries thoughtfully before he said, "Y'know, if Lothario can't keep the knot tied, maybe you have a chance at getting Cassandra while she's crying at the altar."

"That would break poor Morty's heart," Darren said. "Besides, he doesn't know that I love her daughter, and if he caught me trying to console her, he might faint at the sight of another 'potential heartbreak.'"

"Then how are you going to get her?"

Darren sighed. "I... don't know."

"Well, if you get any ideas, let me know about it. I'm curious." With that, Dirk got up and left the table.

Let's face it, Darren thought. I love this woman, but she doesn't seem to share the same reciprocal love. It's an awkward friend zone. Cassandra's nice, cute... and rich. Yeah, mostly rich. I'm practically eating my painting canvas while Cassandra's living like a queen, with her father's money at her disposal. If Don gets a huge chunk of that money... will there be any left for me?

Well, that's providing Don doesn't ditch Cassandra and actually ties the knot. Darren was hoping for that not to happen. If Don ditched, it would leave Cassandra open to him. Imagine the look on Don's face once he sees Darren with Cassandra! It would give Darren an automatic promotion in influence and wealth, and soon Darren would be able to look down at Don and say, "Dear dear, Uncle Lothario, you must amend your womanizing behavior. It looks bad on you, and you can't possibly hide your affairs from everyone forever. I already know that you're in love with both Caliente sisters. Oh yes, I saw you..."

Darren blinked. No, let's not go there. Let's focus on what we can do to "save" Cassandra from Don (and possibly save Don from having to tie the knot too), and most importantly, make Cassandra his. Then we can think about bossing Mr. Don Lothario around.

Maybe I'll pay Don a visit today. I'll see if I can coax him into dumping Cassandra. He might not appreciate my presence, but he has to agree with me that he doesn't want this commitment. If Don doesn't want to marry Cassandra, that's alright — I can have her. She'll be happy with me, I with her, our poverty problems will be solved, and Don will be spared the promise he can't keep. It's a win-win situation.

The school bus pulled up in front of the house and honked its horn. Dirk was out the door in a heartbeat. Darren caught a glimpse of his son waving goodbye through the window. He gave back a small wave and a weak smile as the bus drove off. I hope Cassandra's okay with me using her money to pay for Dirk's college tuition, he thought.

Darren got up, washed the dishes, and got ready to pay Don Lothario an uninvited visit.

Part 2. A plan is a plan

Don looked up. His eyes were fixated on a pair of eyes, glittering like a diamond. Two lips below the eyes moved softly, almost invitingly. The cupid's bow was perfectly shaped, so beautiful it was almost unreal. Don gestured invitingly, and opened his mouth for a compliment... and maybe a complimentary kiss on those lips. But as he approached, the lips and the eyes started moving away. He came in closer, but still they ran from him. He wasn't going to let this one off! He chased, but still they ran. He kept going, and going, and going...

OOF!

The air charged out of Don's lungs like a blown up plastic bag being punched in the gut. His eyelids snapped open. The eyes and the lips were gone, replaced with the reddish hue of his bedroom carpeting. And speaking of lips, his own...

Don immediately got off the floor and wiped his mouth. Yuck. He looked around. His bed was behind him, the sheets rumpled and the blanket stripped off. The blanket was wrapped around his legs, and it took some effort for him to free himself. He did his best to straighten out the sheets and the blanket. Then he ran down the stairs, into the bathroom, and straight for the sink. He ran his mouth under the water for a few minutes. Blek. The taste of dirt, dust, and grime was still there.

He had done it again. Those imaginary eyes and imaginary lips have deceived him again. Don just couldn't figure out why those lips and eyes appeared, or at least, who they belonged to. A full month of sleeping with at least one of the Caliente sisters every night certainly did something to me, he thought.

He splashed some warm water over his face. There, that should do it. Now that he was awake, he could now start going about his daily routines. He had planned to skip work today; he could afford it. He had three vacation days clocked in already, and if nothing went to plan, all the hours of practicing his "sick" voice (along with listening to the noises of the patients at the hospital he worked at) will probably let him miss a day. Probably.

His stomach growled. Don was naturally hungry, but he didn't want to lose his slim figure. "Fat isn't sexy," as he liked to say. He opened the fridge, looking for something to eat. A can of lemon lime soda, opened and partially drunk a fortnight ago. A banana that has gone completely brown. A half-empty bag of toaster pastries, three months past the expiry date. I should really go shopping, he thought. May as well make good use of my day off!

The only thing that seemed remotely edible was an unopened can of meal replacement protein shake. He grabbed it, popped the tab, and started drinking. Chocolate flavored, no sugar, only six calories. What a deal. He drank greedily from the can until it was empty. He went over to the sink, filled it up with water, and gulped it down as well, to get every bit of the shake into his system. His stomach was still growling, but hopefully the shake will hold him over until he bought some real food.

He went outside, getting a breath of the warm June morning. The air was crisp and fresh, like water from a glacier. The sun came up from the east, peering over the horizon with a warm, friendly glow. Don's face shone, much to his surprise, and he felt happy. Euphoric. Carefree. It brought him back to the days of him being an innocent child, his mother Adriana waving to him from the living room window and his father Nicolo telling him to close the door behind him to stop the insects from getting in. Ah, the days of being so innocent and free and young...

Except his garden. The sun also illuminated his weak, pitiful garden. Don smacked himself in the forehead. He had forgotten to water his plants and pull the weeds. Again. Now the exterior of his condo looked a bit more like a ghetto than a suburban dwelling.

The ghetto reminded him a bit about his childhood living in the city. He lived in a middle-class, well off neighborhood populated with houses built in the Twenties and Thirties. He remembered riding his bicycle with a few of the other neighborhood kids, down the street to the local ice cream store for a cone. And, if his parents gave them permission, they would hop on the bus and ride it to Berkley's Plaza and come home with plastic toys and souvenirs, most of which broke on the way home. If they fell asleep on the bus and missed their stop, they would wind up in an area filled with slums ("Hell on earth," his mother would say), and they would have to pray and hope they had enough money to get on the bus home. If they didn't, they'd have to walk, or hope some friendly police officer was around to give them a ride. It usually resulted in a stern lecture about not falling asleep on the bus and missing your stop, but nothing else really happened.

Well, he thought. Those days are mostly gone. Gentrification overtook the neighborhood he once lived in, and he had watched his own house get torn down as a result. By then his parents were deceased, and he had to live at a friend's apartment, working three jobs at a time, before he was able to scrape the money together to buy his current residence in the suburbs of the city. He had so far found the people warm and welcoming, although the landscape still seemed foreign to him. Never in his life had he seen lots that had so much open space between them, and his old urban garden, which had a coffee table sized box of soil sandwiched between his tiny porch and the sidewalk, now had enough room to comfortably tend to from all angles.

Speaking of tending to his garden, he definitely needed to do that. He got down on his knees — a painful hell — and begun to pull the weeds out of the parched soil. Maybe he should've watered his plants first, but he couldn't find his garden hose. Some kid probably stole it, he thought.

Don was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the sound of footsteps approaching. "Ah, Mr. Lothario, just the man I wanted to see on this fine morning!"

Don turned around to see Darren Dreamer strolling up beside him, as if he owned the public sidewalk. "Who invited you?" Don barked.

"I did," Darren replied with a smirk. "I invited myself to pay you a visit."

"Go away," Don growled, standing up to try and tower over Darren. "You're not funny."

"Oh? Well, I wasn't trying to be funny. In fact, this involves some serious business..."

---

"So after that long speech of yours, could you shorten your big idea into a nutshell?" Don asked.

Darren had been explaining his glorious plan of liberating Don from the curse of marriage and leaving Cassandra open to himself ("A win-win situation!" Darren had exclaimed) as they walked through the town of Pleasantview. He had been overexcited by the plan, jumping around like a bunny around Don and waving his arms. "All you need to know is that, on the day of the wedding, you simply have to leave Cassandra at the altar! And then you leave everything to me!"

"Yes, very exciting," Don said sarcastically. "And I assume you're doing it for Cassandra and her money?"

"Well, yes, admittedly... yes." Darren was shamefaced, but not for long. "But I'm also doing it for your own benefit too. I know you can't stick to commitments, so I figured I'd cut the chains off you. You won't have to marry Cassandra, so you won't have to tie the knot. I'll do it for myself, so you can continue with your womanizing antics, while Cassandra is happier with me."

"Well, if that's the case..." Don paused. He pondered the benefits and consequences of Darren's proposal. The good news is obvious: he wouldn't have to marry Cassandra! And maybe Darren would get out of his way once he's happy with his future ex-fiancee.

It was a win-win situation, right?

Not really.

"What if the neighborhood turns a cold shoulder on me?" Don inquired. "My face will be all over the news about the 'Man Who Dumped The Daughter Of Goth.' That's not a winning situation for me."

"Well, so is your current situation. If you marry Cassandra and you get caught lounging with one of the Caliente sisters, you're in even bigger trouble."

"But for the former, trouble comes much more quickly. If I stay the way I am..." Don gritted his teeth. He couldn't let anyone see him with the Calientes. Especially Cassandra. "I trust you won't tell anyone that you saw me?"

"You have my word." Darren had his fingers crossed behind his back, but secretly he felt a bit sympathetic for Don. "Besides, you're going to wind up in a pickle eventually, so marrying her and hoping to avoid trouble is just postponing the inevitable..."

"It's not inevitable! I'll try..."

"Good luck and have fun with that!"

Don felt trapped. What would Dina and Nina say once Don stopped going out into public places with them? Who simply stays at home or in the car with a date? Sure, Don made out with Nina in his car once, but they had to leave because Mrs. CrumpleBottom tapped at the windows and yelled at them, threatening to smash the windows with her purse if they didn't "cease and desist and get the bottoms out of there!" Actually, speaking of the car and Mrs. C, even that might not be safe. Dammit... what do I do?

Darren detected Don's distress. "Perhaps we can come up with a cover story to hide your bottom. You could, perhaps, explain later that you felt guilty about being partially responsible for the disappearance of Cassandra's mother, and you didn't want to look like you got rid of Bella so you could get to Cassandra..."

Anything to escape the horrors! Well, at least the worst of them. He could make the apology over the phone (With his best charisma skills), and he knew what to say if any reporters showed up at his front door. Hopefully Cassandra would not be angry at him, or at least, forgive him. For the first time in his life, he actually felt comfortable with the idea of splitting up. "It's a deal!" Don said.

"Then let it be done," Darren replied, relieved to see his suggestion had worked.

They shook hands firmly.

As Don walked back home, Darren turned around and rubbed his hands in glee. His plan was working!

Part 3. A Dreamer's dream

Lunch at last.

Dirk sat down at his usual table in the cafeteria: a quiet, normally clean table that only the "shy and nerdy" used. In his hands he held a tray containing his lunch: a single egg-salad sandwich. It was the cheapest thing on the menu that at least kept him going until mid-afternoon, where he could always hope there was something light to eat at home or in the coffee shop. At least enough to last him until supper.

He looked around. Not too many people today. Only three other people were sitting at his table, and they were all gathered on one end, all staring wide-eyed at a laptop screen, making little to no noise. That's good, he thought. The quieter the better. He took a bite out of his sandwich, which was a bit soggy and stale from being left out for too long. Hey, at least it's food.

He checked his watch. Lilith should be out of class by now, unless she got detention. They had agreed to meet at the same table for lunch every day whenever possible. Usually, it was Lilith who failed to show up, and Dirk couldn't blame her.

Lilith was the underdog of the Pleasant family. She struggled in school and was largely ignored by her own family. On top of that, her worst enemy — her sister — frequently fought with her, and even though Lilith lost most of those fights, everyone seemed to blame her as the "one who started it," and probably won't raise so much an eyebrow if she was found bleeding to death in an alley.

That's where Dirk came in. He had been her only friend since childhood, and now that they were teenagers, it felt like Dirk was the only star in Lilith's dark universe. Even though Dirk came from a poor family and had been grieving for his mother's death ever since that unfortunate fire, he still made time in his work-study-work-study schedule to spend time with Lilith.

And now that Lilith has managed to steal — ahem — borrow some of her parents' money, Dirk had hoped that there would be enough to get his father on his feet. Ever since Darren had quit his job in order to be an "at-home" painter, the bills in the household had been piling up since. Darren loved to paint, but he just wasn't cranking enough paintings at a fast-enough rate for them to even hope to be able to keep up with the family's expenses, let alone pay the unpaid bills. It's only a matter of time before those nuthead repo-men show up, Dirk thought.

A figure sat down in front of him and smiled. "Going on a diet?" she asked, pointing to the small sandwich.

Dirk grinned. "Nah," he replied. "I'm still full from last night's outing."

Dirk and Lilith had been hiding their relationship — and their illicit outings — from their parents. Angela probably already knew about their relationship, but not the sneaking out, and fortunately she hadn't bothered to tell Lilith's parents. And even if Darren did find out, Dirk was pretty sure he would be too preoccupied with trying to marry Cassandra Goth to pay much attention to Lilith, aside from the "Hello" as he walked past her.

"Are you planning on going out tonight again?" she asked. "I'm dying to get out of the house again! Angela's been a jerk, as usual, and my mom hit me the other day when I tried to fight back."

"Sure, I can do it." He popped the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. "But I'm not sure if I have the money for it..."

"Money isn't a problem." She pulled out a few wads of cash from her pocket. "Shh... don't tell anyone this, but I managed to get my hands on my dad's bank account. He was too busy kissing a sponge mop to notice that his debit card went missing. I know his PIN number — he has a habit of mumbling passwords out loud absentmindedly, and I overheard him! So I just took some of the money out of his checking account. I'm sure he won't mind. And there's probably enough left over to pay your bills... well, at least some of them. Let's see how much we have left over after tonight!"

---

Darren exited the little bank, clutching a few Simoleon bills to his chest. Money was getting tight, and his bank accounts sure told the tale. He had barely enough in his checking to buy lunch, let alone pay the overdue bills at home.

Okay, today's plan: eat a lunch, a cheap lunch, but better than lunch meat sandwiches. Then, go home and finish that painting. Quickly.

Ever since Darren quit his old job, the money supply has been on a steady decline. At first, it was somewhat manageable, with less eating out and more eating in, less online shopping and more second-hand shops. But as the situation grew worse, it came to scrounging trash cans and pawning off furniture. And now... things were going to turn ugly if Darren didn't get back to the canvas soon enough.

He entered a restaurant and got seated at a little table in the corner.

Now, if Don can kindly do me a favor and dump Cassandra, then she'll be mine! Once she's mine, I'll get a cut of the money. And then, hopefully, I won't have to salvage scrap metal from trash cans anymore!

The server came up to him. "What'll it be, sir?" he asked in an unamused voice.

Darren scanned the menu. Something cheap and filling, and still better than lunch meat sandwiches, he thought. His eyes were set on the spaghetti with mariana sauce and meatballs. Mmm... looks good. Better than toaster pastries.

"Sir? What'll it be?" the server was losing his patience.

Maybe I should go for dessert too. I have enough to spare. He scanned the menu again. Rice pudding, maybe? Rice pudding... he closed his eyes and tried to remember the last time he had rice pudding. His parents's faces appeared in front of him, feeding a young Darren Dreamer a bite of sweet pudding... mmmmm.

"Hurry up sir, dammit!" the server roared.

No tips for you, then. "I'll take the spaghetti with mariana sauce and meatballs, plus the small rice pudding."

The menu disappeared from Darren's hands. "Thank you!" The server stormed off.

Darren shook his head. Man, they do hire some bad tempered kids in these restaurants, don't they?

The doors opened. Two young ladies entered the restaurant: one on her phone, texting with an annoyed expression on her face, the other fanning herself with a folded paper fan, wiping sweat off her brow and complaining about the heat.

The Caliente sisters.

Darren snickered. Ah, the two sisters were still blissfully unaware that they were both in pursuit of Mr. Don Lothario, the town womanizer and commitment breaker. Neither of them seemed to be aware of the fact that Don was getting married on Saturday. To whom? Cassandra Goth, of course!

And the funny thing is, Dina is getting married to old Mortimer Goth, Cassandra's aged father, after Bella's brother passed away. Dina cared nothing about Morty's well-being and everything about his immense fortune. Mortimer Goth inherited his father's wealth and kept the money going, developing the Elixir of Life that was said to prolong a Sim's life. Poor thing backfired on him when he drank the stuff, though, after his wife, Bella, mysteriously vanished. Now he was close to death, but Dina was determined to marry him as soon as possible before he joined Gunther in his grave. Dina had no plans for a special marriage; she didn't care about cake, a reception, or even a "Just Married" car. She'll probably just go up to Morty one day and ask for his hand for marriage. If Dina was desperate enough, she'd hack Morty's bank account to get the money.

Cha-ching!

"Ugh, is it just me or is this restaurant so absurdly hot?" Nina said. She fanned herself fruitlessly with her little fan. "Do you guys, like, turn the freaking A/C on here?"

The host turned mauve in the face as he tried to appease the sisters. Finally, the two were seated in the booth behind Darren. Neither of the two recognized him.

Good, he thought. I'll be able to eavesdrop on their little conversations!

"Like, O-M-G, it's is so hot in here, it feels like a furnace!"

"Drink some water, Dina. Your lips are dry."

"Ugh, my water is warm! Why did we even come to this crappy restaurant, even?"

"Well, we wouldn't be here if you bothered to pay the damn bills!"

"What?! If I paid the bills we definitely would be here!"

"Yeah, but once that repo-man took our toilets and fridges we had to go out and buy new ones. That costed more than all our bills combined!"

"No it doesn't! Can you even do math?"

"That's not all, Dina! You were the one who decided to go to the place where they sold purses while I was actually trying to buy the appliances. You then came back with, like, fifty purses and complained about how heavy they were!"

"But they were good! O-M-G Nina, you don't know how to shop..."

"You don't know how to shop!"

"You don't just disappear into a store and spend three hours to buy just one thing!"

"You don't just disappear into a store and buy everything on sale!"

Darren chuckled to himself. Oh, the sisters were arguing about the same mundane things again.

"O-M-G, I can't wait for the day I propose to old Morty..."

"Ugh, seriously? Why are you so into such a man?"

"He's so rich!"

"He's so... old."

"He's so funny!"

"Only his piece, and nothing more."

"Nina, why don't you look on the bright side?"

"Yeah, I can see the money, but I can also see things boiling down to disaster!"

Ah. The Caliente sisters are divided amongst themselves whether Dina should marry Mortimer or not. Darren knew Nina fancied money like her sister, but not as intensively and aggressively. Nina was happy to work her way to the top. Dina preferred to stay at home, obsessing over her hair and appearances in order to attract the richest men towards her like ants towards a spilled bag of sugar. Dina didn't fancy working for her money; she preferred the money be brought straight to her home, and maybe into bed as well, if she felt like it. And once the man died, it was time to cash in.

"Ugh, Dina, you don't need to keep bragging about Mortimer!"

"But... he can help us! Remember the time when the repo-man came over and scared us with his repo-gun? Once I marry Mortimer, we can use his money to pay off those bills! I mean, just imagine... he is so rich, we could pay the bills for centuries!"

"But Dina... what if he dies? And what if he refuses?"

"Whatever, pfft. I'll make sure that won't happen."

The server came back with Darren's order and dropped the plate onto the table. Particles of food flew onto Darren's shirt and face. "Bon appetit," he said sarcastically. "Why don't you put some spice in your life, dammit?" He grabbed the hot sauce and poured it over the spaghetti. "Oh, and your lips are dry, why don't you have a sip of this?" He emptied the contents of the salt shaker into Darren's glass of water.

"Excuse me sir! Who do you think you are?"

"I'm your damn server, turd! I'm your DAMN %$#@ING SERVER!" He flicked a napkin at Darren's face. "Go clean yourself off."

Darren angrily brushed the mess off himself. "I would like to speak to your manager."

The manager, hearing the commotion, hurried over. "What's the matter here?"

"I'll tell you what's the matter!" Darren replied before the server could speak. "This young man here was rude and impudent to me while taking my order, and he rudely served me and poured hot sauce all over my food and salt in my water!"

"My sincere apologies." He turned to the server. "From now on, you will never come back to this restaurant ever again."

"Good!" the server shouted. "I'm happy I don't have to come back to this flea-filled human feedlot anymore!" He dumped his tray and notebook onto Darren's lap and stormed out the door.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," the manager said as he did his best to clean up the mess.

"I came here for a quiet lunch and look at what's happened!" Darren was not amused. "I am most disappointed with this establishment. I will be writing a very unpleasant review of this on Yelp once I get home."

"Oh! Oh... I'm very, very sorry, sir, and I promise it will not happen again. How about if..." the manager thought for a moment, "...we let you eat here for free? Just this once? Is that okay?"

"That..." Darren pretended to think, "...will be most gratefully appreciated."

"Thank you, sir! Thank you!" The manager cleaned up the mess and headed back to the kitchen, wiping sweat off his brow with his handkerchief.

Darren grinned. Not only did he score some points against Don, he now got himself a free lunch for today. I'm so brilliant! I'm so amazing! Just wait until Dirk gets home and hears my magnificent story!

Darren's happy moment came to an abrupt ending when he heard Dina say: "Ugh, look who's sitting behind us!"

Nina and Dina peered into Darren's booth. "Good going, Darren," Nina said sarcastically. "You think you're so full of yourself, don't you?"

"I..." Darren was at a loss for words. "Well, what about..."

"What?!" the two sisters said simultaneously.

"You're kidding me, right Darren?"

"'What about' what? Are you, like, accusing us of something?"

"Ugh! So rude..."

You two are both dating Don Lothario, Darren wanted to say. Don is getting married to Cassandra. And Dina, your fetish for money will ruin your marriage with old Morty. But, try as he might, the words refused to leave his mouth.

"Ugh, look at him, twitching his mouth."

"He's still a low-life. He can't even pay the bills!"

"Uh, Dina? We can't pay the bills either."

"Oh, right. Well, at least I have a plan to get more money! And all Darren wants to do is paint. Yeah Darren, go ahead and paint. No art museum will ever buy your paintings."

"Yeah, Darren, go live in an alleyway or something. You're never going to succeed."

"Let's get away from him," Dina said. She raised her hand. "Excuse me, but can we move to a different table?"

When Darren's free replacement meal came around though, he scoffed. "You'll never stop me!" he said tauntingly towards the sisters as they were relocated to the opposite end of the restaurant. "Just you wait! I'll be the luckiest man in Pleasantview before you know it!"

---

The front door swung open. "Dad! I'm home!" Dirk called out.

"Hey sonny!" came the reply from upstairs.

Dirk pulled out the wad of cash that Lilith had given him. How much do we need for tonight? he thought to himself. A §100? §200? No, maybe §50? Oh, I don't know. It was already pretty impolite to take from Lilith. He didn't need to show up looking like he had just spent all that money without her.

Then it's decided.

Dirk selected a few bills and slipped them into his pocket. He then took the remainder of the wad and carried it upstairs. "Um, Lilith said she wanted to help us pay the bills and keep the repo-man out of the house, so she gave me some money." He bound the cash with some elastic and set it down on one of the cable spools serving as impromptu tables. "Is this enough?"

"You can keep the money, Dirk." Darren was focused on finishing his painting. "I have a plan that will make us one of the richest families in Pleasantview."

"What? Are you trying to marry Cassandra?"

"Everything's been planned, Dirk!" Darren was excited. "I paid a visit to Don Lothario this morning, and he had agreed to dump Cassandra at the altar! Once Cassandra is on her own, crying, I'll move in and work my magic over her. I'll save the wedding day! And Dirk... you can finally go to college."

"Hold on a sec... you're asking Don to...?" Dirk's voice trailed off. "I have a feeling this won't work out..."

"Nonsense!" Darren painted at quick time, like a live wire with ants in his pants. "Look at the bright side, Dirk! Nothing will go wrong. And anyways, once I finish this masterpiece—" He pointed at the canvas "—we'll have enough to eat for some time. Just you wait! Look how gorgeous it is!"

Dirk did not look. With a simple "If you want it that way," Dirk retreated down the stairs and towards his computer desk. A few bills kept him company, the paper glowing a dark, angry red as the overdue bills counted down towards an inevitable visit from the repo-man. Soon, when those bills explode, that crazy mental institution escapee will come over and start taking our stuff, Dirk thought. Laughing with delight and joy as he robbed, looted, plundered, and trashed the place. And the law said it was 100% legal for him to do so.

Wow, what a nice job.

Dirk sighed. He reached into his backpack, pulled out his homework, and began to write.

Author's notes

• The Dreamer family's story begins on a Wednesday.

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