The Thompson Family: SHENANIGANS!!!

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William got up early. He had been up late, talking with his wife about her day at work. He was concerned by what she had told him and had been unable to sleep. He rolled out of bed, and tucked the covers around his wife’s gently snoring body to keep her warm. Slipping out of the room stealthily, he planned what he would make her for breakfast.

Willow usually cooked, so William had a bit of trouble finding everything he needed. He knocked over some pans and had to grab them to stop them clattering on the floor. ‘Shhhhhh,’ he whispered to the mottled cast iron skillet. It took him three tries to light the old stove, and had to keep an eye on the small blue flame to make sure it wasn’t going out.

Things were not going well. The eggs got stuck in the pan, and William could smell burning. OH NO!!! HE WAS ON FIRE!!! Panicking he grabbed the extinguisher (thank goodness he’d insisted on getting one!) and managed to put the fire out before the heat got through his clothes to his skin. Willow heard the noise and rushed to the kitchen to find her husband hopping around with water and burned egg flying everywhere!

[Me while playing: ‘No, no, no, no, no! Oh no! Put the fire out! Please don’t kill my Sim or I’ll be crying for a week!’]

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‘Oh no, William, are you ok!?’ Willow approached her husband gently.

‘I’m fine… just a little singed,’ William replied in relief, ‘I was trying to make you breakfast in bed, but I think the kitchen hates me.’

Willow laughed, ‘Oh you silly thing! Go and get in the shower and I’ll clean this mess up. But first… let me take a selfie.’

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William got cleaned up and ate the breakfast that… ummm… Willow made. The things his wife had told him had worried him: it was concerning that in such a small suburb that someone high up in the police force could be so corrupt! He knew he needed to investigate this.

He grabbed his notepad and made his way to the police station. He was concerned that he might get his wife into trouble, it wouldn’t look good if a police officer’s journalist husband was poking around at her workplace! So he was careful not to let on that Willow was his wife.

At first he tried to speak to the receptionist, but she was tough, and didn’t want to reveal anything about the case. He tried to ask her for her personal thoughts on corruption in the police force but this seemed to make her angry.

‘All I can confirm is that we arrested an elder female yesterday on charges of fraud, corruption, and attempting to bribe a police officer.’

William scribbled this down and took a seat in the waiting area. He wanted to observe the place for a while, but everything seemed normal.

[I sent William to the police station using Zerbu’s Travel to Special Lots mod]

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His colleague Gunther invited him to a book group in Windenburg and William thought it was a good opportunity to discuss the case with him. The coffee shop was full of intellectual Sims and William felt at home there. He chatted with some of the others about what they thought about the way the area was being run, and although nobody had any specific information, they all seemed distrustful of those in power.

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William was gazing thoughtfully out of the window, sipping a grande-single-shot-mocha-frappucchino-with-whipped-cream-no-sprinkles when he noticed a shifty looking character walking through the village square. He wasn’t sure what made him follow the man, maybe it was his journalistic instinct, but he watched him as he walked into a closed off area by the viaduct… and vanished!

[Eagle-eyed readers might recognise this shifty character from my Banditos family blogs]

William cautiously ventured into the area. Perhaps the man had gone through the chained gates? He shook them gently but they were locked. He glanced nervously down at the water below, but there was no sign of the man. Perhaps he had gone down the sewer system? It was a mystery, but before he left, William inspected the trash can for clues. Nothing.

But William could smell something rotten in the state of Windenburg, and it wasn’t just the trash.

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