a/n: This was originally an entry for the April SimFic Short Story Challenge, when the theme of the month was “fool.” It does, however, fit in with the overarching plot of Clanbuilding for Dummies, so I’ve decided to leave it in here as it’s own mini chapter. Kyle needed a chance to narrate, anyway. Enjoy!

This is not my house.

I know that’s a weird start, but I get confused myself sometimes. The guy standing in front and yelling at me to lose the camera? It’s his house. I just visit a lot.

Some people might call me an idiot for being Elliot’s friend. Or a moron. Or a fool, if they were born in some olden-time year.

They’re wrong.

Foolish was cleaning my shirts in the dishwasher. Foolish was buying an empty Newcrest lot and forgetting to bring a house. Or a toilet. Foolish might have been when I solved the toilet problem by becoming a vampire instead of visiting a hardware shop.

But hanging around Elliot? That’s just fun. You see this store?

This is also not mine. Also Elliot’s again. He bought it recently and wants to make it into a bakery. Which is cool and all, but he needs more flare. More originality. Enter me. Normally Elliot won’t let me touch his cakes-in-progress, but today fate’s in my favor.

“Oh, shoot!” Elliot says as he stirs the batter like a mad stirring person. “I forgot the eggs! Kyle, can you go get some?”

“Sure!” I reply. “What kind? Ostrich eggs? Dragon eggs?”

Elliot makes his Kyle-is-so-annoying face and says just what I need: “Never mind. I’ll get the eggs. Stay here and don’t touch anything!”

I promise not to. But good friends know when to break their promises. By the batter bowl, I see all the usual baking stuff. Milk. Flour. Boring. I look around for something better.

He-he. A flower. It’s like “flour” but with a W. Adding that makes me clever. And fish improve everything. I’m debating if I should add orange juice or old socks next when a voice whispers from upstairs,

“Intruders… Intruders…”

My last name is Morone, not Intruders, so I figure they’ve come to the wrong place and walk upstairs to tell them so. Imagine my surprise when I meet this guy:

“This is my store!” he screeches. “You are not welcome! Leave!”

Most people would freak out at a see-through person, but here’s the thing with being clueless: you don’t scare easy.

“No thanks,” I say, rummaging around.

The see-through guy looks mad. Flaming red mad. “LEEAAAAVE!” he yells again.

“Uh-huh,” I mutter, looking through a chest. Turns out there’s a lot of cool stuff in there. Including this…

The second I hold up the flask, I know. This is the perfect secret ingredient for Elliot’s cake. But I’ve got to get downstairs. My bud could be back any minute.

“Are you even listening?” the ghost person demands.

“Not really,” I admit. “But if you want, I’ll bring you a slice of cake when I’m done with this.”

The ghost mutters something about “mortals these days” and agrees that if I won’t be terrified of him, the least I can do is bring him some cake. I sneak my final secret ingredient into the batter just as Elliot comes back and mixes in the eggs.

This is the cake when it’s done:

“Is it supposed to be glowing?” Elliot questions. Normally when Elliot asks me stuff, he’s more or less talking to himself. But this time, I feel like he really wants my opinion. So I give it to him.

“Sure is!” I say, then put my arm around him. “Elliot, my bud, this glowing cake is going to make your bakery the talk of the town!”

And even though I’m mostly making stuff up like usual, I’ve got a feeling that this time, I’m actually right.

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