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Sofaville, Judith County, Caryton

Collectivist germania
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t5MzoUG0vYA

The small town of Sofaville sat smack dab in the middle of Judith County. With a small population of just under 2,150 people, the town was an unconventional place to hold a county capital, but in a place as agrarian as Judith County was, one would be lucky to have a settlement over the population of 500 in abundance. The name Sofaville, aside from being absent from the knowledge or cares of the foreign world- now lovably nicknamed "couch town" for its single furniture factory which provides most of the county's non-agricultural income- would be a hotbed of petty disputes.

In the midst of the beautiful small-town suburbia would be a conservative-looking black cadillac carrying David Bethel, still in his minty green shirt and seabreeze dress pants. It was a day where he would thankfully be away from the capital of Georgine. In the midst of petty church bureaucracy and another report of economic stagnation, he accepted the fact that a country like Caryton is not a country that has interesting affairs to discuss or significant change to promote. While that meant a quiet, simple, and predictable life free from corruption, it also meant that political affairs were a lost cause in the Carytonic government.

The black-painted car drove around a traffic circle, taking him into a suburban residence. In the midst of the beautiful pastel colors of colonial houses, David Bethel lamented the jet lag of his personal life. In between the farm, his Sofaville home, and his residence in Georgine, it seemed even his personal life was convoluted.

David Bethel was not a poor man by any means- he could very well afford to pay off his bills based not only on his political career- but the valuable history of being a relatively successful advisor for a defunct Altan Regime. It was a past most people preferred to forget, and the gravestones were still being visited- but if Bethel were to thank Alfred Hindenler (the despot) for one thing, it would be the material wealth he accumulated before the collapse of the regime. Unlike many others in his time, the young advisor knew the situation Alta was in, and thus stored as much surplus as he could rather than foolishly spend it on living out the last bits of luxury he could or trying to escape the matter. That combined with fiscal responsibility in the modern day made David Bethel an untapped gold mine. Maybe Lady Louise knew that and wanted to get her share- or maybe, she was too rich for him and just preferred him for either his body or his key to political influence in Germania's quiet and devout sister-nation.

Regardless, when the regime collapsed- Bethel gained a unique insight. He had personally seen Cary the Golden Retriever in the highly controversial yet undisproved "selection ceremony", in which their potential prophet chose universally christian symbols with no prior training- a formerly feral-like stray who avoided people save for performing miracles had chosen to come unto capture- and resigned herself to the newly formed Gospel Church of Caryton. No matter how many people mistakenly believed that they worshipped a dog, he knew that angels were real and that Jesus Christ's mission was restored. That was when he converted into the GCC and transferred his services to them to avoid the scandal of being (albeit loosely) associated with the old regime.

Bethel let his front door close behind him and his suitcase hit the floor. His footsteps softly traced along the tile floor as shoes were kicked off and socks transitioned to the welcoming texture of the carpet past the foyer. Having a sporadic long-distance girlfriend and no kids or pets meant that David Bethel's best friend at home was the television set. The Sofaville-made retro-quality floral couch sat in its rough yet satisfyingly scratchy texture, letting him flop into it. With one flick of the remote, the nostalgically grainy 80s-quality television began a broadcast of the local television channel- it beat the repetitive programme of the TNBC. Just this moment, the "farmers' insight" informational was in its end credits, the glorified almanac's white-on-green credits rolling by to the hum of stereotypical banjo music. Next up would be a... telenovel. Finally, a break in the wind! The program would be titled "Take Your Clippings", a small-scale production about the front lawn rivalry between two neighbors over whose grass is cut cleaner, whose flowers are brighter, and whose berries are plumper. It wasn't the sex, drugs, and rap music of the modern world- but there was a certain wholesomeness to the organ introduction that lured Bethel deep into the fictionalization of the common evil of the homeowner's association.

Just as an overall-clad bald man began to stare proudly at his freshly painted picket fence in the morning sun much to the dismay of his coffee-drinking jewfro-scalped middle aged robe-bearing neighbour, the hollow-sounding landline began to ring. It was his personal phone on the kitchen island rather than the work phone in his office. Maybe his mother had forgotten something, maybe an old friend needed a pep talk. Still disgruntled, David Bethel tore himself from the unconventional comfort of his couch and trekked towards the kitchen. He mulled over a bowl of golden delicious apples before he picked up the phone.

"Bethel Residence, David speaking."