FYOP/Hollywood Hardware/0039
That evening you, Janelle, and Kesha are all sitting on the couch together, watching TV. Kesha is eating popcorn and complaining about the show, while Janelle is trying to shush her.
"What is this, like, garbage?" Kesha asks, gesturing at the TV. "I can't believe you actually watch this, Janelle."
"It's not garbage," Janelle says. "It's Crash Immelmann and the Inflatable Sex-Bots from Planet X! It's a classic."
"Whatever," Kesha says, rolling her eyes. "I'm bored."
"Aw, shit," Janelle grins almost wickedly. "I know what we should do."
Kesha rolls her eyes.
"We're gonna make y'all play your own game," Janelle grins, pushing the dating sim package into Kesha's manicured hands. "There's this version of you on the screen, and y'all gotta impress her. She's really hot—kinda like you—" Janelle pats Kesha's butt, much to Kesha's irritation. "But she's hard to win over. It's a dating sim... like a choose-your-own adventure story."
Soon Kesha is playing the dating sim, and doing badly. The version of herself on screen is insulting her in valley girl slang, and the "real" gynoid Kesha—playing the game—is so angry she's sweating. You and Janelle watch amusedly, sitting next to Kesha on the couch.
"Like, I can't believe I'm losing to myself," Kesha says, throwing the controller down in frustration.
"Aww, don't be a sore loser," Janelle says, picking up the controller and putting her arm around Kesha.
"No, I'm not a sore loser," Kesha says, pouting. "I'm just... I'm not used to losing."
"Well, you better get used to it," Janelle says, winking at you. "Because you're gonna lose a lot more."
Kesha looks like she's about to say something, but then she just sighs and leans against Janelle. "Whatever," she says. "I'm still not dating either of you."
Let Janelle appeal to Kesha's ego
Return Kesha to Hollywood Hardware