Raiders Of The Lost Island Consignment Shop – Part 43


Okay, a year’s long enough to keep you all in suspense!


‘High five, First Mate Reesaroo! A most cunning stratagem, to be sure, arrr!’

‘Timing is everything, Moryrie, timing is everything – ow, not so hard! I only Niveaed my hands this morning.

‘Might have known you were playing for time. Pity that pig faced butt scratchin’ scurvy babboon Gabriel Vigmed got away from whence he came by that LLAMA box.’

‘Including with the parchment that says where Winterbottom’s final treasure is hidden, but suppose it was enough that we escaped with our lives.’


‘Meanwhile, I think some thanks and rewards are in order for JKTee511 parrot here – we’d have been dogmeat if it wasn’t for him. Who’s a pretty boy then?’


‘No point in pursuit, shipmate – he’ll be either waiting to ambush us at the other end in the catacombs beneath the library, have set another trap for us to run into, or will simply have disappeared out the library to whatever escape transport and route he’s preplanned. Best we jam the LLAMA box door open here to keep it out of us, so no stupid swab rat blunders into whatever he’s prepared at the other end.’


‘Meanwhile, this clever, clever boy can scout near the library for any signs of Vigmed before meeting us back at the ship – he’s risked his life enough for us for one day.’


‘Arrrr, bless yer little cotton socks, if ye haven’t finally succumbed to JKTee511 parrot’s alluring charms! T’was only last month I caught ye taking him into the pet shop in Barnacle Bay saying ye wished to register a complaint because this Norwegian Blue was still alive!’


‘Don’t push it – anyway, never mind the bloody Winterbottom Code – what are we going to do about that? ‘




‘There’s no detonator, it’ll keep for now – it’s the caches underneath all those LLAMA boxes we need to worry about!’

‘What’s this? Is my Moryrie finally developing a conscience and sense of public duty? I’m so proud…’


‘Less of the sarcasm! If those boxes go off you’ll have half the Simming world coming to investigate, and bang will go any chance of getting any of these lovely antiquities Gilbert Winterbottom’s been hoarding back to the Hogan’s Deep Sea Diner. We could even find ourselves getting the blame – what with with our fingerprints all over this room next to canisters of the incriminating materials used in the blasts, and don’t think Vigmed won’t be using his contacts with King Henri’s Pasimfic Empire and Neptune knows who else to put the blame on us!’

‘Yeah, we’re not exactly top of the Tapuwhai’s Christmas list after our unwitting part in the Sleeping Dragon affair. Might have known it was too good to be true. So does this mean you’re conceding defeat to Vigmed getting the last great Winterbottom treasure?’


‘Are you kidding? It shows what an amateur he is that he needed that scrap of paper to tell him where to go – the contents of this very room tell any antiquarian expert of note the location of the final treasure – the tomb of Massamesses The Second.’

‘The one where Gilbert Winterbottom vanished?’


‘Yes, except we’re not going there – only a moron would be dumb enough to think he’d cache it in somewhere there were incomplete excavations going on – including his own! This is another of Winterbottom’s red herrings – but one that confirms to me my suspicions as to exactly where it is. But we’ll need to head out there for long enough to keep everyone off the scent of the real location.’


‘Oh great. Al Simhara, too much heat and too many flies. Can’t wait!’


‘Ahahahaharrrr, knew you’d be pleased! Anyway, there’s one final little matter this here bell tower holds that will be of interest to you…’

Meanwhile, down at La Shove Beach, the most unlikely and most cynical alliance of convenience since the Nazi-Soviet Pact of 1939 (or the EA Games – Sims VIP Pact of 2011… which debatably was even more cynical and evil… ) were learning of Cloverstardropper’s cunning plan to save the day, week, month, year and all of existence…


‘So let’s get this straight? We have twelve hours to somehow – against all rational logic – stop the entire Simmerverse from being destroyed from the grandmother of all dark matter leaks…’

‘We’ll get there sooner if you can stop thinking about grannies for five minutes!’

‘Silence, insect! As I was saying before I was so ignorantly interrupted, we have twelve hours to stop the entire Simmerverse from being destroyed from a gargantuan – happy now? – dark matter leak, and your solution is nothing but balls!’




‘Worse of all, you’re expecting crater face there to be getting us out this mess?’

‘Hey, show some respect. You’re talking to a princess!’

‘Meh! Where I come from there’s a princess in every goddamn neighbourhood, usually Jewish with a trust fund from the daddy they see twice a year.’

***Gigglesnort!*** Ohhhh Aarin, such biting wit! You know nothing Jon Snow!’

‘Yeah, like you’re the first ginger in the world to have said that line to me, Chyla.’


‘Oh boy, now it’s Jew jokes –  we’re gonna have some real fun when we run back into Anne again – if we live that long!’

‘Anne? And what does the early morning dampness on grass have to…’

‘… never mind, Sansa Stark! Now’s not the time for discussing histories and homonyms.’


‘What am I supposed to do here?’


‘Just like I showed you, erm, what was your name again? Sherry, no, Shireen! Okay Shireen, you swing the club at the white ball to make it fly through the air – judge the strength and direction you aim the ball in to try and hit the receiver beacon on the top of the LLAMA box over there.’


‘And what good will any of this do?’


‘Look Great Knit, whoever messed up those LLAMA boxes to make them spit pumpkin Daleks won’t have done that in isolation. They’ll have realised that the moment everyone figures out where they’re coming from their first action will be to try and shut down the network…’

‘…easier said than done when there’s no central override for the whole system as it’s run on magic – the whole damn thing runs from box to box to box…’


‘Which means the only solution is taking out each and every box in the network.’

‘The Daleks were instructed by me to leave a detachment of four guarding each box to ensure the rest were generated uninterrupted.’

‘Er Shireen, remember to address the ball with several swings before attempting to…’


‘… aaaaaand that’s the reason why. Try again.’

‘Wait ten seconds, rubber mush, and the club will mend itself. It’s a Sims world thing, you won’t understand it – yet!’

‘Sorry Aarin, as I was saying, having Daleks guarding the boxes is all very well, but if you were planning simply to create chaos – not a take over – then in order to make your diversion complete, you’d want to make sure any evidence of your handiwork ceased to exist once it was all over.’


‘And what better way than with bombs which will be set off by the very network you aim to destroy – very neat and tidy. I could almost admire their deceit if I wasn’t planning their volatilisation…’

‘Whose volatilisation? Come on Aarin, we need to trust one another now.’

‘If this works out, I shall tell you. I’m still not entirely convinced we’re on the same side.’

‘Whatever. Back to topic: we need to knock out those receiver beacons on top of the LLAMA boxes to make sure any bombs cannot go off…’

‘But it must be with some sort of weapon Daleks aren’t programmed to understand…’

‘… and therefore can plot the trajectory of where they’re coming from in order to make their counter-attack…’

‘… as they would with bullets, arrows, wands, laser weapons…’

Exactly Aarin. No way would golf  be in their databanks – what would be the use to them?’

‘This is all beginning to make sense – I don’t know whether I should feel pleased by this or concerned for my mental well being!’


‘Oh much better there, Shireen! Quickly now, another ball from the bucket and another go.’

‘Excuse me, I still don’t get why her? Why Princess Shireen?’

‘Well Jon Snow – or at least that’s what we’ll call you for the sake of our time together, what Shireen thinks of as her dad is the same person that in another shape and form to those in our world was someone called Harry Vardon in The Greatest Game Ever Played.’


‘I don’t understand.’

‘Of course you don’t – keep your eye on the ball, Shireen, and don’t close your bloody eyes when you take the swing! – neither you nor Shireen nor Sansa need to understand yet – only to trust us. In some ways this ought to prove my theory right.’


‘Which is?’

‘That botched Project Olympus computer program spitting out random Simmies all over Moonlight Falls – like you three – has failed to filter properly. So not only is it creating them mixed up as to who they are, but I’m hoping mixed up with extra skills from their fictional biological parents’ other existences! If I am right, Shireen there any moment now will prove herself a dab hand with that club.’

‘Who was Harry Vardon?’


‘Only the greatest golfer that ever lived – and the link between him (if you pardon the golfing pun) and Stannis Baratheon is the multi talented Stephen Dillane… oh nice shot Shireen!’

‘What was that explosion?’

‘Only that of the magical seal of the top being broken and raw magical power coming into contact with natural matter – nothing more. But that’s that box out of action, and if there was any bomb underneath, it’s now safe.’


‘Dammit, I forgot to take into account the wind adjustment, and with being so near to the sea the saltier air pushed it a bit further to the right than I’d have wa…. uhhhh, what am I saying.’

‘Keep it up kidda, you’re doing great!’

‘Hold on – this is your plan? She’s going to take out all those LLAMA boxes with a golf club and a bucket of golf balls?’

‘Harry Vardon could hit holes in one from 250 yards with a hickory club – getting Shireen to hit a far bigger target from closer with a modern club and balls… I think we’ve got more than a chance.’

‘What about getting rid of the Daleks?’

‘As you said yourself Aarin, they are actually the least of our worries. Shut down the boxes, get into that Bloom Institute of Wellness and get this dark matter stabilised, we’ll worry about the nazi dustbins later. What say you Shireen?’


‘I say I think I’ve got the hang of this. I say since you’ve saved me and my friends, let’s go and save the Moryrie and Reesaroo friends of this Aarin and Chyla you mentioned earlier. Let’s go find that battle I never lived long enough to see at Winterfell!’

***Le Sigh!*** Oh, alright, you lunatics win. You all heard the rubber face – let’s go kick some badly meshed Dalek ass!’

‘Hey, watch it!’


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