The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Thirty-Nine

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!

Most of the children of Pine Valley’s founders are now ready to have kids of their own, so it’s officially the end of Generation One! The selection process is over, and our six new arrivals for Generation Two are ready to move in. Statistically only one of them will survive the next few years, but it’s still worth meeting them; otherwise, how will you know where to place your bets?

Yes, my fantasy world is entirely populated by my fantasy women. Big fucking surprise.

Because amoral businessmen are so popular these days.

The Pine Valley Chronicles are like the Academy Awards: no black people forever, and then suddenly a bunch of black people all at once. They’re being racist; I’m just a moron.

Jerome is my anti-stereotype. He’s a huge nerd, he’s very shy, and his penis is only five inches long.
I’m not compensating for anything, honest.

They can’t all be winners.

I apologize in advance to anyone even vaguely Latin who might be reading this.

Welcome to #2 Main Street West, where dwelleth Penny Spring. It’s right across the street from Stephen and Abigail’s first house.

This! Is! Spartanly furnished! I’m really quite sorry, it just slipped out.

Funny how the only IKEA product I’d ever intentionally buy was the IKEA Stuff Pack.

And even then it was a mighty mental struggle, let me tell you.

Fuckin’ Swedes.

Kick ’em in the meatballs.

What was I talking about?

Nothing but the starkest squalor for my Sims.

I spoil them so.

Behold, the lady herself! I’m quite proud of her, she’s very unique-looking.

Penny Spring: Take a picture, it’ll last longer.

I did take a picture. This is that picture.

Penny: Mhmm.

Judging by your expression, I’m guessing that book is called “Cooking with Magic and Orgasms.”

Penny: Ten years straight on the New Sim Times bestseller list.

Man, that is a cute papergirl!

Brooke Cormier: Thanks!

DON’T TALK TO ME. I know the depravity your kind is capable of.

Brooke: Mmm, you smell nice!
Penny: Let me guess. I smell like a tip. Right?
Brooke: A pretty smell for a pretty lady!
Penny: Oh, you’re good.

Penny: Penny Spring.
Brooke: Brooke Cormier.
Penny: Out of topics.
Brooke: Hand outstretched.
Penny: Eyes rolled.

Penny: Here. How does five bucks sound?

Brooke: It sounds like barely enough to buy a pop.

Penny: How about I smash your head in with a hammer?

Brooke: How about you’d go to jail?


Brooke: That went well.

And then she was eaten by zombies.

Any good jobs today?

Penny: Not particularly.


Penny: Not particularly.

Michael Whittaker: Gee, I hope she’s rich. I’m looking for a rich girl.

She’s got the same amount of money as you. But she’s really smart, and she has a good sense of humour, and she’s very pretty.

Michael: I only heard that first part. But don’t repeat the rest.

Michael: Well, maybe she’ll have some food made and I can score a free meal at least. That will help me recoup my losses.

Your losses? From walking fifty feet to meet your neighbour?

Michael: I could be a multimillionaire by now. This day has been a total wash so far.

Jerome Newcastle: Hey, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jerome.
Kendra Flint: You sound like a nerd, excuse me while I scowl.
Jerome: Of course.

Michael: Hi, I’m Michael Whittaker. The Michael Whittaker.
Penny: I’m sorry?
Michael: Oh, don’t be. It’s only customary to kneel before me. It’s not, like, a law or anything. Yet.

Penny: Hi. You are?
Jerome: Madly in love. I mean, oh crap. I mean, Jerome?
Penny: Is that a question?
Jerome: No? Yes. No! Jerome Newcastle. Pleased to marry you. Meet you.


Penny: Penny Spring. I love your hair.
Kendra: Kendra Flint. You look like a flapper.
Penny: And you look like a prostitute. But who’s counting? I bet you can’t.

Penny: Okay, Daddy Borebucks… enh. I’m not into the whole greasy metrosexual look.

Penny: Captain Charisma, on the other hand…

Jerome: Miss Flint? Miss Flint? I can’t see the television.
Michael: This kind of not seeing the television is my favourite thing about the television.

Jerome: I don’t get it. All you can see from that angle is…
Michael: …something you’d better not screw up for me, yes. I agree. Now shut up.

Michael: .oO(Look at me, I’m a flaming faggot, I can’t see the TV, wah wah wah wah.)
Jerome: .oO(The TV’s not even on! Why is she standing there? She must not realize she’s blocking Michael’s view.)

Kendra: So I couldn’t help but notice that your interest was rising, if you get my drift.
Michael: I’ve been getting your drift for the last hour, and it smells marvellous. Got any cash?

Penny: Where are these people from? The girl keeps pulling her skirt up, and I’m pretty sure I saw the blonde guy rooting through my fridge when he thought I wasn’t looking.
Jerome: I know, right? People have differences! Humour!
Penny: And then there’s you, thanks for reminding me.

Jerome: Personally I’m kind of glad Kendra is here. I was starting to feel like a licorice jellybean in a giant tub of vanilla icecream.

Penny: Please, continue this incredibly inappropriate line of conversation to its tragic but inevitable conclusion.

Kendra: I’ll kiss you for a dollar.
Michael: Shit. That’s what I was about to say.

Jerome: I’m just saying there are a lot of white people in this neighbourhood.
Penny: And I’m just saying unless you rode into town on a mare and left your sword and suit of armour with your squire back home in your castle, this topic isn’t topical.

Michael: So… is somebody getting a dollar?

Jerome: I mean, I feel like a genie surrounded by elves.
Penny: And yet you don’t feel my glare of death. What strange, selective sensitivities you must have.

Michael: My, that is a beautiful towel rack.
Penny: What?
Michael: I just figured you guys must be admiring the towel rack, since you’ve been HIDING IN THE BATHROOM TOGETHER FOR THE LAST TWO HOURS.

Kendra: What were they talking about?
Michael: Boring poor people stuff.

Kendra: You know, Michael, I’m really glad to have met you today.
Michael: YES! Awesome.
Kendra: I’m excited too!
Michael: No, it’s just that I really wanted to hear someone say my name. It’s been, like, hours. Man! Never gets old.

Michael: I want you to know, if you’re considering a relationship with me, that you might eventually get arrested. As an accessory to embezzlement. Or tax fraud. Or insider trading. Or buggery.
Kendra: Buggery?
Michael: I wanted to make sure you were paying attention.

Michael: I’m glad we’re friends. I think we should be best friends. I want to be your best best friend.

Michael: Kissing. Friends who kiss. I want to kiss my friend who is you.
Kendra: Is this happpening because you can see up my skirt?
Michael: This is happening because I can see up your skirt.

Penny: You know, you’re awfully cute when you don’t talk.
Jerome: Golly, you think so? Thanks!
Penny: See, there you go again.

Penny: That fuzzy sweater really brings out your eyes, you know?
Jerome: Really? I’ll never take it off!
Penny: That’s going to make things awkward eventually, but hey. Whatever turns you on, I guess.

Penny: Speaking of what turns you on… mind if I give those other hooligans the boot so we can neck on the chesterfield?
Jerome: How did you know about my period dialect fetish?!

Jerome: The phone is ringing.
Penny: Everyone I know in the entire world, save for one papergirl, is in this building right now.
Jerome: But it’s really annoying.
Penny: As is your insistence.

Penny: Okay… okay… right… okay… so, I don’t know you… okay… so, I’m hanging up now… okay… right… goodbye…

Penny: It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Whittaker.
Michael: Please, call me Michael.
Penny: That won’t be necessary.
Michael: Brr, cold. Okay. Hey, black dude! Walk with me. I need to ask you a question about black chicks.
Jerome: I don’t know anything about that.
Penny: He’s just as bad with white chicks.
Michael: Shitty.

Penny: It’s been fun. Remember to use protection.
Kendra: I will. Say hi to F. Scott Fitzgerald for me.

Penny: Now that we’re alone, how would you like to go on a date? By which I mean, stay here and do pretty much what we were already doing, only with a score card and a time limit.
Jerome: Sure, I’ve got nowhere to be. He hasn’t even initialized my lot yet.

Penny: Oochy coochy coo!
Jerome: Ahahahaha! How did you know I was ticklish?
Penny: All manchildren are.

It’s true.

Penny: You know what I heard?
Jerome: No, what?
Penny: The voice of a complete freaking stranger on the telephone. What was up with that?

Jerome: You know, your hair matches your carpet.
Penny: I’ve never known anyone who could accidentally stumble into a major sexual innuendo before. So I guess that’s something for you to be proud of.
Jerome: What? Your hair does match the carpet.
Penny: So does your skin.

Jerome: I’m not pursuing that any further.
Penny: Good, you’re learning.

Penny: That was a lovely dance, Jerome.
Jerome: Thanks!
Penny: Remind me to buy some steel-toed boots before our next date.

Jerome: About our next date. I was wondering if yuummmmmphhh. Mmmmm. Mm.

Penny: Now quick, go home before you say something stupid.

Penny: This soda did NOT cost five bucks.

It’s nice to have somebody elegant around for a change.

I hope you don’t die horribly any time soon.

Penny: I was hoping to never die horribly.

Well that’s just stupid.

Yeah, I don’t know what you were thinking either.

Michael: Whatever you’re about to tell me to do, it had better involve making huge piles of cash.

Michael: What? SERIOUSLY? “Study… Cooking”? Are you on crack?

Burned meals waste money.

Michael: Well alright then.

Brooke: I’m sure he’s coming right out. Right?

Don’t hold your breath.

You might need it to scream later.

…didn’t you already get eaten?

Being a Fortune Sim, Michael wanted me to buy him a painting. I wanted to buy light switches. My custom-content light switches are classified as paintings.

He should have been more specific.

Michael: I don’t want to find a job. I want to start a business. Are you retarded?

You haven’t got any money. You could barely afford a light switch. And you want to buy a lot and build a business? Are you retarded?

I’m starting to think this needs to be a gated community.

With an electric fence.

What kind of sandwich did you make?

Michael: Bread.

And between the bread?

Michael: Don’t be silly.

It’s a shame he’s so unlikely to pass these genes on.

You were supposed to keep those out for the welcome wagon.

Michael: They can’t make sandwiches themselves?

They’re not supposed to need to.

Michael: Oh, sorry, am I the sandwich fairy?

Deborah Cavendish: Hi! I’m Deborah! You must be Michael!
Michael: “Must” sounds so negative. It’s not a curse, it’s a calling!

Lucas Perez: Throwing out the trash, huh? Kinky.

Lucas: My name is Lucas. I claim all women. All of them. You may have none.
Deborah: That’s sexist.
Lucas: No. Is not sexist. Is sexiest. No woman can resist Lucas Perez!

Ha, nice timing. It’s like rain on your wedding day!

Deborah: So like I was saying, I’m-
Deborah: …Deborah Cavendish? Pleased to meet you?

Deborah: So hey, wanna walk down to the trailer park?
Michael: You did NOT just mention That Which Cannot Be Mentioned!

Deborah: Wow, that guy really does not like walking.

Lucas: Boo! Your house number is suck! My house number is much higher!


Michael: Hmm… decisions, decisions…

If it helps you any, one of them is a lesbian.

Michael: Hopefully the poorer one.

Lucas: BANG.
Michael: What?

Lucas: Bang. I have shot you. For your crimes. You are a criminal. You are talking to my women.

Michael: Come to think of it, that one IS pretty hot!
Lucas: Have you no remorse, villain?!

Michael: The blonde’s pretty nice too, but I’m not sure she swings right-handed.

Michael: Hey, I’m Michael. You smell rich. Are you rich?
Lucas: I will carry the pink one away for storage.

Deborah: Four? More like SNORE.


Deborah: POINK! Hahaha! Score one for women’s lib!
Lucas: Is ACT OF WAR.

Lucas: Is lovely dress. You are knowing where nice dress would look nicer?
Deborah: In a terrible pickup line?
Lucas: Unfair, you have heard before 🙁

Poppy: Uh oh. Quick! Somebody call the fashion police!

Lucas: Do not misunderstand. Dress would look nice on any floor. My floor is simply closest.
Deborah: Your persistence is admittedly refreshing.

Your ass must feel terrible.

Poppy: I haven’t heard any complaints.

No, I meant… heh. Good one.

Deborah: I don’t know anything about video games.

Michael: I’m no mathematician, but I’m pretty sure hot plus hot equals DOUBLE HOT.

Michael: Okay, okay, so Deborah? The one in pink?
Poppy: Heh, yeah?
Michael: That’s all I know about her.

Deborah: I’m not usually into art, but this painting really turns me on.


Deborah: I mean it’s like somebody just flipped a switch in my brain!


Deborah: The artist’s use of light is just fascinating!


Poppy: Don’t look now, there’s an asshole in the sky.


Poppy: You watch me shower!

I’d watch most women shower!

…now look what you made me do.

Poppy: It’s hilarious. They put the baby in, right, and close the lid…

Poppy: …and speaking of closed lids, mine is VERY MUCH CLOSED. To PENISES. I am TALKING ABOUT MY VAGINA. Please stand back a bit.

Rodney: Hey! I’m attracted by the scent of failure. And you smell nice today!

Deborah: I dunno, I hear bathroom talking is the new sidewalk talking.

Michael: Awesome! I love a friendly game of catch.


Michael: Hey, would you look at the time, I’d better go inside.

Michael: Because it’s Not-Dying-Horribly o’clock.

Phillip Beckett, Zombie Zombie Hunter: Hey! What was HIS deal?
Poppy: Doesn’t want his brains eaten.
Phillip Beckett, Zombie Zombie Hunter: What, ANOTHER one?


Deborah: So she was all like, “IF YOU WANT TO WATCH YOU HAVE TO PAY!”
Michael: Did that work? Did you pay? Let me take notes.

Lucas: We will be leaving for my casa of love soon, chiquita.
Poppy: I’m not interested.
Lucas: Is relevant?

Michael: For the last time, no. YOU owe ME a dollar.

Michael wanted a real painting, so I got him one that looks like shit in his house.

Deborah: Man, that looks like SHIT in this house!

Michael: That’s my cue to cue you to leave.
Deborah: Such wordplay!
Michael: Such leaving!

Poppy: They’re doing amazing work in plastics these days.

Michael: That’s enough light switch jokes for one lifetime. Get out of my house.

Michael: I’d like to do some work on her plastics, though!


Michael: Honestly, I don’t know. You wrote it!

Lucas: When we meet again, my friend, we shall be rivals. I will not hesitate to kill you.
Michael: If we meet again, I might just kill myself.

Michael: Hey. Hey wait. Back it up a bit. Where did he go, and why am I naked?

It’s a secret to everybody.


I think we’ll break here; we’ve got four more households, plus Daisy and Poppy, and I don’t know if I can handle that right now.


Next time: I continue to fool you into thinking new households are interesting with my witty and humorous prose.

One hopes.


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