The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Thirty-Two

Welcome to the Pine Valley Chronicles, an ongoing neighbourhood story in The Sims 2!
Warning: this journal may contain uncensored nudity, violence, profanity and sexual themes.

Click Here for Previous Entries!

Just so we’re all on the same page: this update crosses the line so many times in such quick succession that you can’t even see the line through the motion blur.

You’ve heard of “not safe for work”? I’m not sure this is even safe for home.

Last time in the Pine Valley Chronicles:

I love doing those.

-Sharpe Residence, Mount Noble University-
(Where the sheep lie down with the serial killer)

Sullivan: Hot damn, Felicia. You roped me a sexy momma this time!
Cecilia: Hmm… well, in the dark, maybe he won’t look so bad.
Felicia: A perfect match!

Cecilia: Alright, I’ll give it a shot. It’s a date.
Sullivan: Leave the sponge, Felicia.
Cecilia: Keep the sponge or I’ll murder you, Felicia.
Felicia: She makes a convincing point.
Sullivan: Coward.

Erin: Are you dating an old person? That looks like an old person.
Nicholas: If you value your life, keep walking and don’t look back.

Cecilia: I must say, you have a great head of hair for an old guy.
Sullivan: It’s sweet of you to notice.
Cecilia: Sorry, I said that wrong. Let me try again. You have a great head of hair for an old bald guy. What the fuck? Where do you hide that mop normally?

Sullivan: Gonna tap that ass.

Ugh.

Sullivan: And you’re gonna watch.

UGH.

Sullivan: And TAKE PICTURES.

Please… just stop…

Sullivan: See you on the flipside, hair! Won’t be needing your services.

Clothes in The Sims 2 are fucking weird.

Cecilia: Come on, Sullivan! Let’s dance!
Sullivan: Oh, hey, somebody’s a collector! I’d show you mine, but most of those cases are unsolved and I’d like to keep it that way.

Sullivan: Mind if I take a handful? For later?
Cecilia: Be my guest. I’ve got some hot sauce in my room, if you’d like.
Sullivan: I prefer it black. Like my jacket. Like my –
Cecilia: Don’t say “soul.” Don’t you dare say “soul.” I hate clichés.
Sullivan: I was gonna say “penis.” Hung like a horse, baby.

Cecilia: Holy shit, Sully. Where’d you get that rhythm?
Sullivan: I stole it. From Jesus Christ himself.
Cecilia: There’s no such thing as Jesus Christ.
Sullivan: Not anymore. That’s what I’m saying.

Sullivan: Can I touch them?
Cecilia: Do you want to lose your hands?
Sullivan: I’ll see your amputation and raise you molestation.
Cecilia: I like you.

Cecilia: Know what this makes me think about? Heh heh heh.
Sullivan: Taking a shit on someone?
Cecilia: Man, that matchmaker knew her stuff! It’s like you’re reading my mind!

Tyson: Cecilia! Secret handshake!
Cecilia: The secret to a good secret handshake, Tyson, a really good, really secret handshake, is that it’s kept secret.
Tyson: He won’t tell anyone. He eats all his friends.
Sullivan: I was acquitted, thanks.
Tyson: Yeah, I remember hearing about that too. The jury inexplicably disappeared on their lunch break.
Sullivan: You’d be surprised how much your stomach can hold in an emergency.

Sullivan: It’s nice that you want to dance with me, but I think the decor here is really inappropriate.
Cecilia: You’re referring to the happy pastoral landscape, I presume, and not to the shelves full of dead people.
Sullivan: Oh, are we going to start asking rhetorical questions now?

Sullivan: Um, hello? That goes down the FRONT of my pants, thank you very much.

Sullivan: Don’t you have any manners?

Sullivan: I can’t love a girl who doesn’t know when to start a handjob.

Sullivan: And I was really for a midget, too. Felicia really screwed that one up for me. How flat is your head? I was hoping to be able to rest a book on top. You know, in case you’re really bad at it and I get bored.

And then they played kicky bag.

Sullivan: So, how come you haven’t tried to murder me yet?
Cecilia: Us evil types need to stick together.

Sullivan: Mmm, yes, I agree. Let’s you and me stick together. As in, stick our parts together. Have sex. Now.
Cecilia: I understood you the first time, back when it was subtle.
Sullivan: I figured you would. I just wanted to make the narrator uncomfortable.

That’s “Maker” to you, and don’t you forget it.

Sullivan: You didn’t make me. Random chance made me.

And I’ve been wondering what the hell happened ever since.

Cecilia: Let’s have a drink!
Sullivan: I must have had a few already, because I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a fucking BAR right there a few seconds ago.
Cecilia: Somebody with access to Buy Mode likes us.

I wouldn’t say I like you. You’re just too fascinating to stop watching.

Sullivan: While you weren’t watching I drugged your drink.
Cecilia: That’s okay. While you weren’t watching I sold your drugs to minors.
Sullivan: If we don’t stop this one-upmanship we’re going to exhaust the creativity of the narrator.

MAKER.

Sullivan: Yeah, I’m gonna need to drink a lot more before this bunny shit starts being okay.

Cecilia: Do you have no spatial sense at all?
Sullivan: It’s finely-tuned, actually.
Cecilia: So you want me nibbling on your neck stubble?
Sullivan: Hey, do I make fun of your electrical socket fetish?
Cecilia: I see where you’re going with that and it’s not as funny as you think it is.

Sullivan: You know, kissing you for the first time makes me realize something…
Cecilia: Yes? Yes?!

Sullivan: There are more sanitary ways to have fun. Don’t you ever, like… floss?
Cecilia: Oh, Sullivan. You mad romantic.

Cecilia: I could snap your neck in three places before you could blink.
Sullivan: But you wouldn’t, because I’d vacate my bowels right onto your pajamas.
Cecilia: Through your suit?
Sullivan: Trapdoor.
Cecilia: Ingenious.

I really shouldn’t have used the same tile for the floor and the ceiling. Now I think I’m gonna be sick.

this is the first thing that has made me feel sick? What the fuck is wrong with me?!

Cecilia: I think I’ve got one of your teeth.
Sullivan: So enough with the hoovering already.

STOP! Homework time.

Blazej leads a charmed life, doesn’t he?

Ally: Are you checking out my ass?!
Sullivan: Just estimating its market value. Which room is yours? And when do you go to sleep?

Sullivan: Alright, that’s enough fucking around.

Sullivan: Call me when you’re in a knob-gobbling mood. I’m out.

All class.

Tyson: There, but for the grace of ACTUALLY USING MY BED, go I.

I’m kind of glad you’re not attracted to people who pass out on the sidewalk.

On the other hand, considering who you are attracted to…

Ah, so the truth comes out at last. When will you come out?

Cecilia: Look, I said I was sorry for murdering dad and that whore who shat you out. Now can you put the damn butler on the phone, William?

Sullivan: I knew you’d come crawling back. Now, crawl onto your back.
Cecilia: What, out here? Without the ghosts to stare creepily at us? Romance is dead.

So is fashion. Hi, Marylena!

Marylena: Look, I died in this dress, okay? I can’t fucking help it.

Sullivan: Fucking hell, woman. Are you trying to kill me? Do you eat lead? I bet your ass got this heavy all by itself, am I right? Are you genetically fat, or just a disgusting fucking pig?
Cecilia: I love it when a man talks dirty.
Sullivan: I love it when a woman isn’t a fat fucking slob.

Nolan: Moo?
Tyler: Sure. Whatever, dude. Sure.

Rodney: It’s the ghost of disco!

Sullivan: Yeah, tilt my head back. Because I’m not already drowning in your drool, you filthy slut.

Nolan: I bet that bitch serves hamburgers.

Sullivan: You’d better up the ante soon, honey. Perry Mason is on at 10.

Nolan: HAUNTED BUTLER!
Cecilia: AAAAGH!
Nolan: FEEL THE HEAT OF ETERNAL TORMENT, YOU WICKED SOULS!
Sullivan: It tickles!

BEST. GHOST FACE. EVER.

Oh no. We’re not seriously doing this now, are we?

I think I just found and lost religion at the same time.

Sullivan: Mm. I’d forgotten how nice they feel when they’re young. And alive. And attached to the person.

Cecilia: It’s like having hot awesome sex with my grampa!

First of all, ew. And second of all, you don’t have a grandfather. Biologically. At all.

Cecilia: That’s what makes it okay!

NOTHING MAKES THIS OKAY!

With every thrust, god kills a kitten.

Sullivan: Stop it, you’re making me even hornier.

Sullivan: I haven’t been this aroused since-

NO. CENSORED. NO. I refuse to hear it. Shut up forever.

Sullivan: Getting rug burns yet?
Cecilia: Nah, the idiot who made this carpet binned it under “linoleum.”

-pop-

Sullivan: Teeheehee!

Oh sweet merciful flying spaghetti monster, please make it stop…

Cecilia: I hope you’re getting this, this is good stuff.

Yeah. I’m getting it. Because the world can never be allowed to forget.

Sullivan: It’s like a party in her ass and everyone’s invited, but the door is locked, and you all have to watch us fuck through the window.

I think your metaphor broke down at the end there.

Clarence: Hey! That’s fucking gross, I’m sorry I came in here.
Nolan: Moo?
Clarence: It makes about as much sense as anything else, so sure. Moo. Fucking moo. I need to call my family.

Nolan: OH GOD WHERE’S MY BRAIN BLEACH

Tyler: TELL ME WHEN THEY’RE DONE SO I CAN TURN AROUND

What’s wrong?

Tyson: I felt a great disturbance in the force, as if… well… as if Cecilia and Sullivan were having sex. Nothing is comparably terrifying, really.

Cecilia: Was it good for you?
Sullivan: It was the best legal sex I’ve ever had.
Cecilia: Do I want to know?
Sullivan: What they say about rabbits? All true, baby. All true.

The perfect couple.

For a given definition of “perfect.”

A definition that accomodates cosmic horror.

Come on, haven’t you done enough damage yet?

Sullivan: She’ll be peeing funny colours for a week, let me tell you that.

That means nothing to me. I don’t even know what’s offensive anymore.

I’m deleting that bed as soon as you guys come up for air.

Or come up for hair, I guess.

Oh, stop. I’ve made worse jokes. And my sense of humour is fucking exhausted after the ordeal I’ve just been through.

Okay, now, here’s what’s going to happen.

Sullivan: I’m not going to have a heart attack in my sleep.

Sullivan’s going to have a GOD DAMMIT.

Livin’ the dream, Rodney?

Livin’ the dream.

Tyson: HAVEN’T WE ALL BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH ALREADY

What the fuck are you doing.

Cecilia: Are you going to answer him?
Sullivan: He’s the omniscient narrator. He should be explaining it to us.

I don’t even have the energy to try.

Yes, awesome. More boner poison. Well done.

Sullivan: I just fucked every one of your minds in the ass vicariously through Cecilia. In her ass.

Yes. Yes, you did. And they’ll probably never forgive me for it.

NO. You didn’t have sex with a BUTLER. You had sex with THE DEVIL HIMSELF.

He’s just WEARING the butler like a costume.

A disgusting, rapacious, unrelentingly terrifying costume.

Jasmine: Fuckin’… ghosts?
Cecilia: Yawn.

Jasmine: Fuckin’… BURGLARS!
Cecilia: No, sorry, this isn’t working. Nothing scares me now. I’ve seen true fear, and I let it in through the backdoor.

Ew.

Yes! Let’s have more of this. This, I am used to. This, I can handle.

Melanie Do: Pillow fight! Ahahaha.
Jay: Dude… my fuckin’… my fuckin’ nose, dude. Not cool.

Cecilia: Hey, Tyson.
Tyson: Can’t look at you. Ever again.
Cecilia: Understandable!

Tyson: No, SERIOUSLY. NEVER AGAIN. You’d need to carve into my skull to get those sounds and images out of my head.

Tyson: HOLY SHIT NO DON’T BE SO LITERAL

Melanie: I really hope this is the bubbles talking.

Melanie: It’s not the bubbles talking, is it.
The Grim Reaper: I DO NOT BELIEVE YOU CAN HEAR THE BUBBLES TALKING. THEY ARE TOO QUIET AND YOU ARE UNLIKELY TO UNDERSTAND THE LANGUAGE. IT ENTIRELY CONSISTS OF THE WORDS REQUIRED TO SCREAM IN PAIN AND TERROR AS THEIR SHORT LIVES ARE TERMINATED IN A SUDDEN BURSTING.
Melanie: Hey, so now seeing someone murdered with an axe isn’t the worst thing I have to think about.

Melanie: Hey… is that…?
The Grim Reaper: I WOULD ADVISE THAT YOU NOT PURSUE THAT LINE OF REASONING.

Melanie: Yeah, but… I think I know that chick. Isn’t that…?
The Grim Reaper: I WOULD REITERATE MY WARNING, BUT I DO NEED THE WORK. GO AHEAD. I’LL BE SEEING YOU MOMENTARILY.

Melanie: Hey! Cecilia! CECILIA! Are you over here somewhere?

Melanie: Hey! There you are! Why you hiding under this tree? Is it because you murdered somebody? Is it because you’re a murderer? Huh? Huh? Is it? Is it?
Cecilia: TROLL COW IS FAIL
Melanie: You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that!

Cecilia: Oh yeah? Well let me tell you a little secret, you ballsucking bovine bastard.

Cecilia: There are only two certain things in this world. Death…

Cecilia: …and AXES!
Blazej: Wait. Did she just throw an axe into that cow’s face?
Vamsi: With a lame one-liner, no less?

Cecilia: You want a one-liner? Have one down the middle of your fucking face you raging thunderc*nt.

Whoah, whoah. I even had to censor that one. That’s going too far.

Cecilia: YOU WANT SOME TOO, DOUCHERAG? I CAN DISH IT OUT ALL DAY LONG!

Um… Cecilia? Witnesses? Cecilia?

Cecilia: Well… that kinda got out of hand…

YOU THINK?!

Where are you gonna go, Cecilia? They’ll be looking for you everywhere now.

Cecilia: Cecilia? Who’s Cecilia?

Cecilia: I don’t fucking care how you do it, just get the fucking limo here pronto! I think they’re calling the cops, and I don’t have enough axes for that!

Cecilia: Shit. SHIT! Comeoncomeoncomeoncomeon SHIT!

Cecilia: It’s about fucking time! Hit the gas, asshole! HIT THE GAS!

As res parties go, that was kind of a wild one. Don’t you think?

Cecilia: Thanks. Now go drive off a cliff and forget you saw me. That’s an order.

Man, student politicians have way too much power these days.

Clarence: So, still with the crown, huh?
Kana: It’s an affectation.
Clarence: It’s fucking hilarious, that’s what it is.

Cecilia: Okay, just remain calm. Nobody’s looking your way. You can do this. It’ll work. It’ll work just fine.

Cecilia: I’m really gonna miss this hair.

Whoah. I don’t think your mom would even recognize you.

Cecilia: Not that that’s ever going to be an issue.

Right.

Erin: It was insane. She went through the dorm like a freight train, smashing people’s faces in with fire axes.
Gabe King: Quit making shit up, Erin, nobody believes you.

Cecilia: Out with the old…

Cecilia: …and in with the AAAAAAAAAAAUUUGGGGRLBRLBLRBL

Cecilia: That wasn’t entirely according to plan.

Hey, mission accomplished right? Nobody’ll recognize you now.

Cecilia: Deicide isn’t outside the realm of possibility, you know. And people are used to not seeing you for weeks at a time. They’ll never find the body.

Hey, if you can’t laugh about your own facial mutilation, what can you laugh about?

Cecilia: Right, once more, with less sucking.

That’s what she said.

Cecilia: Did she? My sympathies.

Wait… I didn’t… dammit.

Cecilia: How come you always script yourself losing these fights?

Write what you know 🙁

Cecilia: Perfect! I feel like a new woman.

Is this new woman also a psychopathic killer?

Cecilia: It’s a world of possibilities!

Yes, but somehow I bet she’s still a psychopathic killer.

So what shall we call you now, my dear homicidal butterfly?

Cecilia: Hmm… yeah. I’m going to go with Daisy.

DAISY?!

Cecilia Daisy: Yeah. Daisy. Daisy WHITE.

DAISY WHITE?! Are you fucking SERIOUS?!

Daisy: Yep. Daisy White it is. Nobody would suspect Daisy White of being a murderer!

No, you’re probably right. They’d suspect Daisy White of being a FUCKING OBVIOUS PSEUDONYM.

Daisy: No, that’s the best part. Nobody in their right mind would pick such a painfully obvious pseudonym. It’s the perfect cover!

Well I think you’re gonna need more than that to fool the cops, “Daisy.” I should know. I made the cops.

Daisy: Way ahead of you. Hello? ENTROPY headquarters? Yeah, it’s me. Cecilia. I need a fake identity, and I need it fast. Daisy White. No, I’m serious. No, I’m actually serious. Yes. Thanks.

Hm. Not bad. Your head looks a bit big, though.

Cecilia: And your face is slightly asymmetrical.

SO?!

Daisy: Boy, it sure is a great day to START AT THIS NEW UNIVERSITY I JUST CAME TO! It’s a good thing my RICH FAMILY WAS ABLE TO AFFORD THIS LIMO THAT I CAME HERE IN!

You’re not fooling anybody.

Daisy: Have you met these people?

…point.

Daisy: OH BOY MY NEW ROOM. I HAVEN’T HAD A DORM ROOM BEFORE.

Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?

Daisy: If worst comes to worst, I’ll tell them I’m SimAmerican. They always talk really loud and obvious. They think it’s the same as speaking Simlish.

Uma: Paper or plastic?
Daisy: Suspiciously pristine unmarked bills?
Uma: Works for me!

Hey, not bad. Cute ensemble.

Daisy: I’m still a girl, you know.

I have occasionally entertained doubts.

You’re kinda pretty, in a kind of ugly sort of way. Well done. It’s a look you can live with, but not something anyone would choose for themselves.

Daisy: Don’t push your luck. I know where you live.

And I know where your neighbourhood’s files are stored.

Daisy: Pff. That’s barely even a bluff. You’d never give up your slim tiny claim to internet fame.

-sniffle-

Vanessa: Hey, stranger!
Daisy: Yeah! Totally haven’t met you before! Hey!

Daisy: Cool! Yeah! New rule: no randoms sleeping in my bed!
Erin: You left your door unlocked.
Daisy: I’ll pretend that’s a legitimate, sane excuse if you get the… -strain- …heck out of my room! You… nice person, you!
Erin: So polite!

Daisy: Alright. New face, new hair, new clothes, new dorm… now to take it up a notch.

Vanessa: YEAH! I’m alive! I’m… I’m…

Vanessa: Who the hell am I? I don’t remember a damn thing.

Vanessa: Perhaps this tastefully-decorated lampshade will jog my memory!

– ten minutes later-

Vanessa: That’s better!

It is?

Vanessa: Yeah! Daisy helped me get cleaned up, and I’m ready for my surgery.

Your surgery?

Vanessa: Yeah! My face was all messed up in the car crash, but Daisy says if I go over to that surgical station it’ll put me back the way I was.

Car crash.

Vanessa: Yeah! The one that killed me and took away my memory! She’s been trying to find a way to bring me back to life ever since. What a great sister.

That’s… yeah. Give me a moment to digest that.

This is all kinds of messed up.

Vanessa: Whew! It worked! That’s a relief. It feels good to have my real face back.

How about your memories?

Vanessa: Still gone. Daisy says the crash really messed my brain up.

What else has she told you? What’s your name?

Vanessa: Poppy. Poppy White.

Poppy? POPPY? You’re shitting me.

Vanessa Poppy: There! Everything’s fixed now.

Well… it can’t be any worse than before, I guess.

So, seriously? Daisy and Poppy? That’s what you’re going with?

Daisy: Our “parents” went with a botanical theme.

That’s just great. How long are you going to be able to keep Vanessa in the dark?

Daisy: Well, you see, SOMEBODY might have slipped the Grim Reaper a few extra bills, and he MIGHT have resurrected her with amnesia, a reversed personality, and a strong susceptibility to suggestion. Oh, and her name is POPPY. Get it right.

This is never going to work.

Daisy: I think it’s going to work brilliantly, actually. It’s a secret identity, not a punishment. I can have my cake, and eat it too!

Daisy: Figuratively speaking, of course.

Of course.

“Poppy” is definitely adjusting well.

Daisy: Gonna wash this blood right outta my hair…

Figuratively speaking.

Daisy: Of course.

Tyler: Are those astronaut pants? Because they look like astronaut pants.
Poppy: I’m pretty sure you did that wrong.
Tyler: No, really! Astronaut pants. I’m 90% certain of it.

This is gonna take some getting used to.

Daisy: Try wearing it.

Figuratively speaking?

Daisy: Let’s leave it ambiguous.

Daisy: Okay, pretty princess, let’s… please… move away from the computer. I need… would like… to use it.
Kana: You talk funny.
Daisy: And you… have lovely… skin.

Daisy: You too, you… completely reasonably my-bed-using person. Git. Please.

Daisy: Alright… so. Guess who has a fake academic record?

I’m guessing you and your fake sister do.

Daisy: How’d you guess?

Magic.

Daisy: Va-… Poppy, I’m glad you’re back.
Poppy: Thanks for saving me, Daisy! I owe you one.
Daisy: …no, I’d say we’re about even.

Poppy: I sure hope my memory comes back eventually!
Daisy: Yeah. Me too. Big fan of that idea. Hopes and prayers, that sort of thing.

Poppy: The White Sisters, together again!
Daisy: Stainless and blameless, as far as anyone knows.
Poppy: Yeah! Wait. What?
Daisy: Nothing! Nothing at all.

Poppy: Boy, I sure am glad to be back. Nothing could be worse than being dead!

That’s pretty funny, coming from you.

Poppy: Why? What do you mean? Where does that link go?

Stop breaking the fourth wall, dammit. There’s barely a foundation left at this point.

NOTHING CAN GO WRONG WITH THIS PLAN.

Yikes. Well, I’m bushed. What’s next? I’ll let your imaginations take over. See you next time. Same fucked up time, same fucked up shit.

Jesus Christ.

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