primadonna girl || wilbur soot

Chapter Eleven

[REAL LIFE]

"I choose... the family path!" Salem professes, moving her hand to spin the wheel once more.

"Why, I thought you hated children?" Clara inquires.

Salem shakes her head as if the answer is obvious. "Um, yeah, but you get extra money if you sell your kids! And how am I supposed to get the money if I have no offspring to put on the market?"

"God we sound horrible out of context." George shudders, taking a sip from his wine glass.

Salem pays no mind to him and spins again. It ticks to a two, and she nudges her hot pink car forward. Her eyes brighten when she sees what she has landed on. "Patricia and I are having twins, bitches! Who's paying for the baby shower?"

Groaning, George eyes his money a little closer than before. "Not me. I'm not giving you another pound for children you're going to barter."

Salem shrugs. "It's okay, I'm sending them to travel with Auntie 'lara for a little while." She grabs two little character pieces from the baggie and attempts to stick them into Clara's car before a hand stops Salem's motion.

"Sorry Lemmy, Syd, and I have a strict no-kid rule."

"Well, then how are you going to make money? You're a fashion designer-!"

"-who just wants to follow her dreams," Clara says, voice thick with fake tears. "And anyway, I think we'll be fine if I sell my three houses."

Salem nods respectfully. "Yeah, you're right. If three houses give you less money than two children, then this world is a scam."

"Anyways, keep your kids. You have to deal with those little shits yourself." Clara snorts, leaning over to take her own turn.

She spins and gets a three, pushing her car a few spaces forward, and landing on an action space. Drawing a card, Clara reads it out loud dramatically.

"You and your opponent enter a guitar competition. Both of you strum your guitars and spin! Highest spin gets 100K from the other." Clara ponders for a second before choosing. "George!"

He immediately lets out a groan. Clara claps her hands together and jumps up excitedly. She launches into a passionate air-guitar solo flailing her hands around wildly, dancing around in the same spot.

Salem catches on quickly and starts beat-boxing along, not letting her best friend make a fool of herself in silence.

After a little while, Clara smooths her hair and plops back on the sofa, settling in once more with a glug from her wine. "Okay, your turn Georgie." She commands, breathless.

With a shake of his head, he remains in his seat, putting minimal effort into his air guitar.

"Boooo!" Salem shouts, blowing a raspberry at George. "Get off the stage! Why are you subdued?"

"I think he's a little tipsy," Clara raises her eyebrows at the tired George.

"No come on, give me a little more credit. I have a higher tolerance than thattt," George drags, clearly showing that he is in fact a little tipsy.

"Sure sure Gogmeister," Salem giggles, nudging his leg from her spot on the floor. George crinkles his nose and scrunches further into his place on the couch.

"You guys are bullies," George huffs before spinning the wheel.

"On the topic of bullies," Salem takes a deep breath and eyes Clara, who dutifully avoids eye contact. "How's your brain treating you? Letting you drink away your problems again?"