The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Fifty!

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.

Updates on Friday every week!

Click Here for Previous Entries!

It’s been a long, strange, violent, strange, sexy, strange trip, hasn’t it? And we’re nowhere near done, baby! Fifty chapters… it’s been almost two years since I started, and you know how far behind I am? Probably more than a hundred updates, and since I’m still playing there’s really no end in sight. I suspect I’ll keep going until the neighbourhood explodes… which, really, I’m amazed hasn’t happened yet.

Make sure you read to the bottom of this entry; I’ve made a little thank-you present for all my friends at LiveJournal!

Last time in the Pine Valley Chronicles…

That’s easily my favourite one so far.

Alright, so we’ll start off with homina homina homina.

Abigail: Somebody call the doctor! He’s having an ad homina attack!

Which one in particular are you thinking about?

William: When you have as much sex as I do, you perceive it all at once, all the time. That is what it is like, being a sex god.

I’m pretty sure that’s not true.

William: Sounded pretty badass, though, didn’t it?

Okay. 1) Dancing with the trapped zombie queen is not the best idea you’ve ever had, 2) your supposed desire to be Best Friends with your wife again is somewhat undermined by your desires to fly to Twikkii Island and talk to a hula girl, 3) Abigail is NEVER going to die, and 4) I think you and Daisy are fated to kill each other, in some epic struggle with earthquakes and explosions.

Man. I like this house.

Even if it does have a lot of borings in it.


Stewart: Why isn’t your milkshake enough for William? Why is he going to other people’s yards for milkshakes?

Stewart: Why is Sullivan staring at me? I’m just talking about milkshakes. Am I misunderstanding a metaphor again?

William: DAMMIT. Do you know how hard it is to type with this thing in the way?!

Going to go taunt the prisoner?

Abigail: No.

Abigail: There’s really nothing I can say to her that’s worse than sitting in a chair surrounded by your own urine.

You need to talk to William about keeping his workspace tidy.

Abigail: Well, actually, the fact that he left all this stuff lying around means that I’ll never have to talk to him again.

Abigail: Purple? Science wouldn’t be caught dead in purple.

Genie: Christ, you people sure do go to the well a lot. “Genie, make me pretty!” “Genie, make me money!” “Genie, make my family alive again!”
Abigail: I suspect you don’t get this one very often, since it was dummied out of the game.

Abigail: Genie… make me young again.
Genie: You… were never young.
Abigail: Sure I was! I was Young, and then I was Murphy, and now I’m Sharpe! Which will soon be changing back to Young. After you change ME back to young.
Genie: What I’m saying is, you were never a teenager.
Abigail: So consider this a bug fix.

Abigail: I don’t… feel any younger.
Genie: Oh, whoops. I think I just made you hotter instead.
Abigail: Like that’s even possible.

Abigail: Alright, we’re playing “Dumb Genie, Smart Genie.” That makes you the smart one. Youth! I command thee!
Genie: Alright alright. It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything, we’ve already done it once each.

Genie: Begone, you demons of menopause and puberty! Begone, you stable hormonal configurations! Away, you cute little black number with the checkers and the floral pattern!
Abigail: Was all that strictly necessary?
Genie: Nope. Sounded pretty badass, though, didn’t it?

Genie: You had dreadlocks in your theoretical teenhood?
Abigail: Yeah, I was pretty metal!
Genie: Did that need an exclamation point?
Abigail: I’m a teen now! EVERYTHING needs an exclamation point!

I -think- it suits her, but we’ll need to get rid of that everything before we can be sure.

So far, so good golly.

Miss Molly.

Emmy Lillard: I heard they had my daughter here?

Did you also hear your daughter caused a national crisis?

Emmy: Mommy’s little girl!

It’s long been apparent to me that there’s just about nothing I can do to Abigail that won’t make her look attractive.

And YEAH, I know she’s fifteen now. But she’s NOT FIFTEEN. She’s EIGHTY-TWO. She just LOOKS FIFTEEN. And she doesn’t even look fifteen, she looks FIFTEEN TO THIRTY.

So what I’m saying is the jury’s still out on whether or not you’re allowed to think she’s hot right now.

Except for those of you who are around fifteen yourselves, I guess. You’re fine.

Abigail think’s she’s fine too.

William: Hello! What can I help you with?
Emmy: Whatever it was before, I’ve just thought of something more important.

A lot of women dream of fitting into their daughters’ dresses.

This is not the typical method of achieving it.

Checking out William’s porn collection?

Abigail: Applying for scholarships.

Abigail: Yeah, I figure I qualify for a few of these.

Just a few, eh.

So, I get the skill ones, since Abigail has maxed all seven skills. But calling her an “orphan” is something of a stretch, what with her never having been born and therefore never having had parents, and calling her position as the top Mad Scientist in the SimNation a “high level in [a] Teen Career” is just downright absurd.

Abigail: Everyone lies in grant proposals. It’s the way things are done.

Abigail: Well, it’s a start anyway. But let’s see if we can’t get all of them.

Are you aware of what that entails?

Abigail: Are you aware of who you’re talking to?


Emmy: Who’s that?
William: Is it a girl or a dude?
Emmy: It’s a girl.
William: Then it’s my wife. We’re fighting.
Emmy: Is that even legal?
William: What, fighting? I hope so, or else the world has become entirely too touchy-feely.

Abigail: Perhaps afternoon isn’t the best time to try this.

Abigail: …wait. What is that.

Theyyyyy’re heeeeeeere!


Abigail: Wait! WAIT! I need to child-proof this thing! I don’t want those little shits playing with it!

Abigail: Tylopoda! Call for help!

Abigail: REGRETS.

Say “hi” to Bella Goth for me.

And tell her nobody cares.

And then tell EA.

EA is in space, right?

You’re considering this a negative event?

William: My wife was just kidnapped by aliens!

Yeah. Your wife who was about to dump you.

William: Exactly! Now I don’t know if I’m free to play the field or not!

Like that’s ever been an issue for you before.

Leonard: Did you kidnap my mom, alien lady?
Emmy: I’m not an alien, kid.
Leonard: So you don’t deny the kidnapping, then?

Stewart: Thank god. Maybe the aliens will teach her some human emotions.

William: So, my wife’s probably on another planet by now. I’m thinking she won’t get the cheating alert if we WooHoo really soon.

William: That hair over your eye is so close to being hot!
Emmy: Thanks!
William: That wasn’t really a compliment.

William: So yeah, come on, let’s fuck. What could go wrong?

What indeed.

Oh, get over it. He’s a shitty stepdad anyway.

Leonard: He promised to show me how to pick up chicks!

You’re a Murphy. You’re not going to live long enough to pick up chicks.

Hey, Chandler! I thought you were dead.

Chandler: My death vaz faked. I haff been bidink my time.

And now your nefarious plan is ready to be set in motion?

Chandler: I haff no plan. I was lookink to steal the newspaper, but it hass been stolen already.

Emmy’s Skirt:-riiiiippppppp-
Emmy: Dammit, William.
William: I can’t help my gifts.

Emmy: They said I would never be important, and yet here I am, about to have sex with the head of the SCIA!
William: Yes. You are entering into a select club called “every available woman I have ever met.”

Emmy: -shoves- Keep that thing to yourself so I can concentrate on kissing you.

Pollination Technician: Are you sure? We have this as your address.
Abigail: Yes, I’m sure! That’s our OLD HOUSE! I live in the one with the glass roof now!
Pollination Technician: Well excuse the fuck out of me for not keeping up to date with the peregrinations of people who live six hundred million miles away!

Emmy: William? What does your wife’s car look like?

Abigail: Hey! Watch the tree! I’ll make you pay for that tree if you wreck it!
Pollination Technician: How did we lose the initiative on this?







Abigail: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaow.

Abigail: You couldn’t have aimed for the lawn?


Leonard: MOMMY!

Abigail: Thanks for helping me get a scholarship, guys!


Abigail: You STUPID -smack- IGNORANT -smack- NYMPHOMANIACAL -smack- HEARTLESS -smack- EGOTISTICAL -smack- SADISTIC -smack-
Leonard: Young mommy’s gonna kill naked stepdaddy! D:

NO. William is NOT available to talk. William may NEVER AGAIN be available to talk.


Abigail: Oh, shut up already.

Abigail: Well, check that one off the list.

I wonder why they still have to pay reparations when you summon them with a flashlight.

Sullivan: Why don’t you look at it OUTSIDE, you STUPID BITCH.

What? Who’s that for?

Oh. Right.

Abigail: If you’ll follow me, sir, I’d like to take you on a tour of my lovely house!
Headmaster Avri Wheeler: I’d be honoured, young lady! Are your parents home?
Abigail: I have no parents.
Headmaster Avri: I’m sorry to hear that. Accident? Old age?
Abigail: Create-a-Sim.
Headmaster Avri: Ah.

And here comes William, out to make a good impression.

She can’t hold it against him, though. He’s clearly gone insane. Seriously dude? You want to marry a couple of completely random townies?


Can’t argue, but I’m surprised to hear you say it.


I’m glad to see everyone’s putting their best foot forward for Abigail.

William: Hold me.
Emmy: Okay!
William: But don’t be so ugly about it.

Headmaster Avri: Astounding! You’ve built all of this at such a young age?
Abigail: Well, I’m actually in my eighties.
Headmaster Avri: Oh. Hmm. Well, we don’t usually admit students who’ve had to repeat years.

Abigail has done no schmoozing. The Headmaster is apparently just a pedophile.

Headmaster Avri: OH! I have this same bust of Tylopoda in my house! Do you talk to yours?
Abigail: Don’t be silly.

So, the plan is to get a pity admission?

Abigail: This is our room full of junk.

Headmaster Avri: This room full of junk is a room full of junk.
Abigail: You know, you might be on to something?

Headmaster Avri: This room full of showers is much better!

Sullivan: Stuff him in. Nobody needs to know.

Headmaster Avri: Awoooooooo! Awoooooooo!

What are you doing.

Headmaster Avri: Wolf calls! Awooooooo!

May I ask why?

Headmaster Avri: We must be in the woods, right? No man-made room could be this big!

Headmaster Avri: So, who are all these people?
Abigail: Behind you, that’s the Zombie Queen Mother. Over by the entrance, that’s two orphaned mongoloids I saved from the mean streets of Centreborough.

Abigail: They take the short bus to school.
Headmaster Avri: Are you sure they’re not actually your children? They look a lot like you in certain ways.
Abigail: If they looked a lot like me I wouldn’t be able to pretend they’re mongoloids, now, would I?
Headmaster Avri: An unassailable point!

Headmaster Avri: But yeah, we don’t take retards at the Academy. We are not a Retard Academy.
Abigail: What do you know? I just cured them of their retardation!
Headmaster Avri: It’s a miracle!
Emmy: These burgers are a miracle.

Headmaster Avri: So yeah, just provide the traditional bribe and we’re done here.

Emmy: Bribe? You expect a bribe?!

Emmy: We’re not paying this asshole, are we, Abigail?
Abigail: Remind me again, who the fuck are you?

Abigail: I can’t wait to go to university, where stupid is illegal.

That was my initial impression too, but disillusionment followed swiftly.

See? I told you guys it was an awesome house.

Headmaster Avri: So, I’ll be expecting your cheque in the mail, then?
Emmy: Never! We categorically refuse!
Abigail: Emmy, you just won yourself the starring role in a snuff film. Do you take personal cheques, Avri?
Headmaster Avri: We do, although I don’t take them personally! Ahahahahaha!
Abigail: Ahahahahaha ha.

Stewart: We just got into private school, Len!
Leonard: Yay! I can’t wait to tell all my friends!

Abigail: Hello? Is this the Mad Scientists Union? Yes! Hi! I’m Abigail Young. No, seriously. Sure, send it over and I’ll sign it. Yeah. Um. I’m retiring. What? No, seriously. I’m retiring. Why? BECAUSE I’M FIFTEEN NOW. Yeah. Genie. Yeah. Totally. Yeah. Okay! Thanks. Bye.

Abigail: I’ve had that job for fifty years.

Here’s to a few hundred years of pension cheques!

There’s a scholarship for pool?

Abigail: There aren’t many measurable aptitudes in this game.

Emmy: I think your head is in my head now.
William: I had a feeling yours was hollow.

William: But seriously though, I’ve been naked for how long now? Let’s fuck already.

Emmy: Yes. Let’s.

You make a good teen.

Abigail: You are NOT making me stay like this.

Oh, don’t worry. Making a good teen is like being the world’s best sitar player. It’s remarkable, but it’s nothing worth sticking with.

William: Almost… to the bed…
Emmy: Why is this taking so LONG?!

Because I keep leaving you guys to look at ACTUALLY INTERESTING STUFF.


Emmy: How do you keep your ass so smooth and clean?
William: Two quarts baby plantsim juice, twice a week.
William: What? They’re not human.

Emmy: Um…
William: It’ll fit.
Emmy: Do you have any of that juice on hand?
William: It’ll fit.

Presumably it does.

Man, you’re seriously trading down.

William: Not really. I’m trading Abigail for every other woman in the world.

Like I said. Trading down.

Look at the time! Why were you here.

In other news, Zombie Queen Melanie Lillard is still undead.

Elle: Get the fuck up the stairs you rickety old SHIT.
Sullivan: I’m taking every word out of your vagina, kid.

Emmy: Good morning!
William: Get out of my house.

And get out of my journal! But not quite yet; remember, I promised you a parting gift.

On behalf of myself, and the wild and crazy spoileriffic future of Pine Valley…

(Click for full-size version)

Thanks for hanging out with us! We’re still just getting started.

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