Sims 3: Athena Sparks 32

 By the time I get into a taxi, I feel like crap.  “Pull over!”  I say to the driver.  “I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

 The driver complies and I jump out in a hurry and walk toward a grassy area.

 I don’t make it very far before I can feel my stomach contents rising.

 Right there by the side of the road I begin to vomit uncontrollably.

 I barely recover before another wave of nausea hits me. 

 I spit out as much of the foul bile as I can and wipe my mouth.  What the heck? I say to myself.

 As I stand, I am slapped in the face by reality.  I realize that Wendell and I didn’t use protection.

 I am in shock the whole rest of the ride home.  Like a zombie, I slowly climb out the taxi.

 I try to go through all the possibilities of why I may have gotten sick.  “I’m hungry…that’s it,” I rationalize.

 I realize that I’m also very tired once I’m inside the house.  I guess I should be, I say to myself thinking about the night I had with Wendell.

 I sit down and devour my first bowl of soup.

 Somehow, it just doesn’t fill me up, so I warm up and finish another.

 As I’m cleaning up the bowls, my phone rings.  I check my caller ID and see that it’s Wendell.  He called!  Is my first thought, then I think about how I just threw up at the side of the road.  I’m suddenly afraid to talk to him.

 “Hello,” I answer hesitantly.


“Hey Athena…you OK?”  He asks, detecting an odd tone in my voice.

 “Uh…yeah.  I’m fine,” I lie.

 “How are you?”  I add, in an attempt to convince him that I’m actually doing well.

 “I could barely get through the day, thinking about us.  I want to see you something awful,” he says with urgency.


Finally I smile.  “Me too,” I say.

 “So, can I come by?”  He asks when I don’t give him an invitation right away.


I think about it.  I’d hate to get sick while he’s here, then have to explain why.

 “Of course, I want to see you too,” I say before too much time passes and he begins to doubt my sincerity.

Although I’m happy that Wendell is coming by…I have something else on my mind.

 As soon as I’m off the phone, I rush to the computer to research pregnancy symptoms. 

 Before I can find what I need, my computer crashes. 

 I decide that I’d better wash the vomit smells away before Wendell arrives.  I’d hate for him to suspect something.

 As soon as I’m out of the bathtub, I hear the doorbell ring.

 I don’t make it to the door before another wave of nausea takes over.  I rush to the toilet instead.

 I hear my front door open and footsteps that stop right by the bathroom door. 

 Wendell is standing by the bathroom door and can hear me vomiting.  I can’t even stop long enough to say anything. 

Finally I stop.  I’m on the floor next to the toilet as if I’m worshipping it.  While I’m there in that position, I actually begin praying that I won’t have to face Wendell after what he has just heard.

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