Lucida and Benino in their yard, playing with a frisbee.
Today finds Molly and Dysen at the seasonal festival grounds.
Skeeball for summer? At least some things have not changed.
Molly remembers how much she fails at Skeeball.
Dysen wonders why so many people are loitering around this odd caravan.
"We're waiting on the fortune teller," Cara Selmone explains. "I like to consult with an astrologist before making any huge life decisions."
"Astrologists? Those people that tell you generic things that could apply to anyone?"
"You just don't understand. Marvin Craft has a way of seeing into people's souls."
"What, like magic?"
"No, it's based on stars," Cara huffs.
Dysen offers to give her a free reading. "Let's see... you're a Taurus, right?"
"Oh, so you can tell!" Cara's uneasiness fades instantly.
"This week the stars are in your favor. Your ego will receive a well-deserved boost from any confidence-building success, allowing you to take on any delays or complexities without breaking much of a sweat. If you're not sure where to find the success you need, consider consulting with an older person you feel comfortable with. No matter where we are in life, there remains a part of us that draws support and nurturing from someone with more experience. Draw some strength from this valuable resource by visiting or calling. Remember to express your gratitude for this supportive relationship, or you may feel guilty when it's too late."
"You're sad your dog died, but no, you shouldn't get a new one if your roommates hate animals. It would be unfair to both your roomies and the dog."
"Wh-what? How did you know?"
"Was my dog's death written in the stars?"
"...Yes," Dysen uses the smooth recovery interaction.
Others assume Dysen is in the fortune telling business, and crowd around to await their turn.
"Hey, aren't you David Ziggfield?"
"Yes, yes, I'm extremely famous."
"Sister Sell Out is my aunt, I'm immune to being starstruck."
"Ah! I see, I see. Yes, it would be difficult to read the stars if they were striking you."
Some bald guy approaches Dysen. "Ay, you. What do yuh think you're doing? I'm working this here park."
"I... uh... I was just having a bit of a fun. Sorry. You must be Marvin Craft."
"Marvin Craft the Extraordinary. So. Wait. You're not a fortune teller?"
"Well you're a natural, kid. I should give you a job."
This cannot be happening.
"You're a con artist," Acheron said.
"Oh?" Dysen could barely keep a straight face.
"You become a celebrity psychic."
"That's... well... I am a psychic, it wouldn't be a con."
"Hey," Marvin prods Dysen back to the present. "What's a matter? You already have a job?"
"No. I don't, actually."
"Good! Come back here at one o'clock Monday, and I will see that you get started putting that talent to use."
And with that Marvin Craft leaves to tend to the crowd.
"I might have a job," Dysen informs Molly.
"Really? Doing what?"
"Telling lies, I think? And the pay wasn't exactly discussed."
Molly frowns, concerned. "Telling... lies?"
Dysen chuckles. "The fortune teller over there wanted to hire me."
"Oh! That sounds... interesting? Maybe fun?" Molly isn't sure what to think. "We'll eventually need money, so."
"Yep. I'll see what happens."
Whatever! Lunch time!
Entropy destroys a newspaper.
Then he ages up.
Along with the General.
And sister Ambiance.
Five cats is far too many cats, but nobody knows how to choose which ones to get rid of, so for now they seem to be staying.
On Monday Dysen reports in to Marvin Craft. Craft shows him a few tricks of the trade, then brings him across town to a curious collection of tents.
"This is our home base, so to speak," Marvin says proudly.
"Our main caravans are here all year. We have the permit in the park for summers only. It's basically an advertisement. Can't afford to waste the money in other seasons."
Marvin supervises Dysen's first interactions with a customer. This crystal ball is like Aunt Izzy's, Dysen thinks, except it's all holographic lights and fake. Indeed, the crystal is not suitable for channeling real magic. It's just pretty.
"Yes... your future is coming into focus now..." Dysen drones, finding this role both ridiculous and hilarious to take on. He doesn't feel comfortable reading Casper Kasmir's mind here, not with Craft watching, but Dysen still has the advantage of knowing exactly how Craft wants him to sell it.
Kasmir listens intently to his fortune, enraptured with every word.
Kasmir could swear the mystic's eyes actually glow.
"Craft was impressed," Dysen reports, "and I am getting paid."
"So you're a performance artist," Molly muses. "That's so hot."
On the downside, Dysen is supposed to read this book, The Horrors of Horoscopes.
He thought he was done with homework after high school!
Molly's attempts to make money do not go as well. Nobody wants her art.
Still, she is driven to create.
When she feels stuck, she helps out in the garden until inspiration strikes again.
Ceth, can you get through just one sing-o-gram today without making a fool of yourself?
"So.... astronomy to astrology. I expected you'd have a comment, Dad."
Carlos shrugs. "It's obviously not the career I'd have chosen for you."
"I'm surrounded by lying con artists that promote irrationality and magical thinking. I know. You're a little offended."
"All of your intelligence, and you use it for this."
Dysen grins. "Aha! There it is. The condemnation."
Carlos's bland expression doesn't change. "At the same time, there is 'magic' hiding all around us. Your uncle would be the first to say we lie every day just by existing and keeping our nature a secret."
"Poor, sappy Uncle Milo."
"It's your life to live, son. You only get one. Do what makes you happy."
"I'm happy enough already," Dysen reflects. "I guess you could say this just entertains me."
Did you ever wonder if you can fit five cats into a cat gym?
Molly runs into an old friend. "Robbie is that you?! Oh wow!"
"Yep, it's me. Hi there, Molly."
"I had no idea you were in town!"
"I had a hunch you moved to Monte Vista, but I was afraid to look you up," Robbie confesses.
"Don't be silly, Robbie. I left on bad terms with Tabby, not with you."
"Well you'll be relieved to know I broke free of those politics. I'm still with the organization, of course..."
"...but I'll be happy if I never see a Rook again."
They make smalltalk. Molly is at the marketplace to buy another ducky, it seems.
"So cute," Robbie agrees.
They move on to heavier subjects, their successes and failures.
Molly can't get anyone to buy her art.
Robbie's wife, August Woods, discovered the truth about his job and left him. He has no idea where August is now, and may never see their daughter Farrah again. Robbie hooked up with Jesse Lu after the organization sent him here, and they have a daughter named Lydia, but Jesse quickly lost interest in him and married some weird artist named Julian Poirot.
"It's not weird to be an artist," Molly reminds him.
"Julian makes it weird," Robbie grumbles.
"You know," Robbie lowers his voice, "we've been moving a lot of Trang Pham pieces lately. We could use someone of your talent around."
"Trang Pham?" Molly frowns, instantly recognizing the name of the 'brilliant' 'artistic savant' who is currently all the rage, renowned for her 'unique avant garde style'. "That's all anyone is interested in buying."
"People like saying they own a Trang Pham. They pay out the nose..."
"I can't help, Robbie. I don't do that stuff anymore."
"Alright, but if you change your mind, I can put in a good word."
"I won't change my mind," Molly says firmly. Dysen's family isn't hurting for money, and she's free to pursue her own projects. She doesn't need to stoop to forging someone else's art.
Molly's toy collection gains a new ducky.
Etc.: Marvin Craft is a homeless repairman in Midnight Hollow. I made no edits to him. Now he's Dysen's boss.
Trang Pham is another Midnight Hollow sim, but I didn't import her into town. She's just a celebrity that lives somewhere else. When I don't want to make up celebrities, EA is there to provide. Molly's thoughts about her are lifted straight from the Pham household description.