Alice tells it right.

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Uh. Hey there. I’m Alice Fitzgerald… You still listening? …Losers.

(I hate blogs…)

My boyfriend isn’t in the condition of relating this story for now, so I’m doing it instead of him. I don’t really feel like narrating this shit at the past tense, so deal with it. Huh, now… how to start?

Yeah, they kicked me out of my job because they thought I was too fat. Joke’s on them. I’m not. I know I am sexy. I am the best thief around. I know they are going to cry for my return in a time or two.

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So now I jog home. Since I can’t fit anymore in my old training outfit, I have to wear this ugly shit too large for me.

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Lysander is getting better and better at painting. Not that I really care, but at least he makes money with it. Wait. I should have said “made”…

 

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Because this fuckhead has decided it was too mainstream and started doing sport instead. Here go our incomes.

Lysander: What is your problem, Alice?! I can’t stand being the faggot in the house. I am a man, goddamn it, I have to be stronger than my girlfriend, don’t you think?

Me: LOL… Do you really think you’re going to be stronger than me? DO YOU REALLY?! I’ll have you know, I once broke a table made of iron while I was trying to kill a mosquitoe. Chuck Norris have nightmares about me.

Lysander: I’ll have you know, I’m also strong!

Me: Yeah, like, sheets of papers or stuff like this?

Lysander: S’not like I wanna brag, but I once lifted a dictionnary. With one hand. For 2 minutes.

Me: My hero.

Thus, we started working out together.

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I became fatter and fatter with the following months. Even so, I’m still strongest than the faggot I have to call a husband.

Me: Already tired? We’ve been doing jumping jacks for only 2 hours!

Lysander: *pan* *pan* *pan* I’m…. *pan* *pan* *pan* Not… e… even *pan* *pan* tired…

 

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Lysander: You *pan* *pan* stopped already? *han huurrr herck pan pan* Ha ha, who’s the *pan* *pan* strongest now? Ha… Haaan…. Haaaaaaa *vomits*

 

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Me: Would you look at this? I wasn’t fat, just pregnant, after all. I will call this one Voldemort!

Lysander: I… *pan *pan* I…. NOOOOO I’LL… *faints on the ground* … *pan* *pan*

Me: Raah that was just a joke. He shall be named Amaury. Happy? Now, shall we continue our training?

Lysander: … *pan* *pan* *pan*… fuck you…

 

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Amaury’s surprising birth is a good thing, since Aleister was only babbling about having a sibling for his upcoming anniversary.

By the sweet plumbob of platinum, this is not my son, this is my husband’s clone.

 

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Lysander: I hope you will be calmer than Aleister. You will, won’t you?

Amaury vomits and starts crying.

Lysander:

 

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Lysander hasn’t calmed with his existential crisis at all with his second son’s birth. He’s still obsessed about being in shape.

Lysander: Son! Hey, son! Do you even lift?

Aleister: Papa, I gotta go to school now.

Lysander: Intelligence is stupid. Big muscles are importanter!

Aleister: Papa, not in front of my friends!

 

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Another zombie had died on our lot. I swear, we would have lost all our legacy points if visitors dying of old age were to count. This is annoying.

I’m not sad of his death, BTW, I’m just pissed to be so muscular. This isn’t feminine at all.

 

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If Aleister was Lysander’s clone, Amaury is mine. Look at him with his father. He could have been his step-dad and there would be no difference.

 

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Aleister doesn’t give a shit about it, though. He has a brother, he’s happy. He’s the greatest big brother of all time. Or at least, a better brother than Raditz was to Karkarot.

What? You don’t know DBZ? You people are weird. You should get a life or at least some  instead of watching Sims stories online. Seriously.

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Now we try to learn him the basics the quickest possible. Somehow, I doubt Lysander has done a good job Learning him how to talkwith such a dirty speech.

 

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Me: When did a fucking computer entered in the bedroom? I thought you were supposed to go to the gym with Aleister? He’s getting kind of fat, you know.

Lysander: I gave up on that. I realized modeling my exterior is futile. What is important, for now on, is to focus on the mental. Behold, my dear, for I am going to be the greatest writter of Moonlight Falls!

Me: You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

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Me: You know, Lysander, you haven’t shown your wand since a while… have you grown ashamed of it? Has it grown weaker?

Lysander: Madam is trying to make me angry? It’s making me sexy. You don’t wanna see me when I’m sexy.

Me: Since you became such a grumpy old man, yes, I actually do.

Lysander: Well, my dear lady, prepare to be fulfilled with the pleasure that comes with my big, very, sticky white magic…

Me: You’re so dirty, Lysander. I love this.

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And this is how we conceived our third kid. Nothing exciting excepted sex happened since that moment, so I’m just going to “forget” the moment that went through the pregnancy.

Me: LYSANDER! IT’S COMING! CALL THE FUCKING AMBULANCE RIGHT NOW!

Lysander: It’s 3AM. Tell that little bitch I have to work on my novel tomorrow.  Ah hell nah, I’m not going to have a royal little spoiled bitch of a baby like Joffrey Baratheon!

Me: BUT IT’S…

Lysander: HE’LL HAVE TO WAIT!

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Aleister: So that’s why you’ve been sleeping in the kitchen for a week now? And also why maman hasn’t come back ever since? Pretty low, you know papa… Who the hell is Joffrey Baratheon anyway?

Lysander: What have you done with your life all this time? Haven’t you watch Game of Thrones yet?

Aleister: We don’t own a TV, papa. And the only computer we have does not even have internet.

Lysander: Oh. Right.

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Aleister: BTW, I like the name you gave my little sister, Cersei. I don’t understand why you don’t let me see her though. I hope it’s not because of your stupid serie also.

Lysander: Talking about Cersei? Uh… N-no… just a superstition…

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Yeah, because I called our newborn daughter Cersei. I gave birth to her, without any HELP once again, so Lysander could fuck off if he didn’t liked it. Just so uncultured swines know, Cersei is a fancy way to write Circee, a powerful sorceress from the greek mythology. Nothing to do with the bitch from GoT.

Well, once again, she’s my clone, just like Amaury is. Excepted to little things: her ears… and her personality.

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Could you believe she is worst than Aleister when he was the same age, who would cry for no fucking reason? Well, here you go. A real demon, I tell ya.

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We never had so much difficulty to raise a kid. Look at this, she won’t even fucking potty train!

I really hope it’s not because of her name she turned like this. I hope she won’t try to rule Moonlight Falls by herself and have 3 babies with Aleister or Amaury.

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Me: Bleeeeeh. Urk… Oh not another baby… Why the hell must the way to make them be this fun?

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And Amaury has grown up. He looks pretty cool with his Elvis-like hair.

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Such as Aleister, who finally turned out to be the kindest teenager of all time. By the sweet plumbob of platinum, that must be how his father looked at his age! Makes me so nostalgic. I really miss the time he was the sweetest guy around with a weird ass humour. If only he wouldn’t have turned older with this fucking mid-age crisis!

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Me: You might have become annoying, but a least you became a real beast in the bed… wanna give me some good, white magic once again?

Lysander: You know I can’t invoke my magic without a bit of your help… Like, I’d totally need to put my face in your juicy watermelons right now. You know… for “positionning” the “elements” in their right places…

Aleister: I do not want to ruin your sex life or anything, but Cersei, Amaury and me are actually dining in the living room and we don’t really want to have a lesson about sexuality while eating, right now… just so you know.

Not that sweet, that Aleister, after all.

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