The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Fifty-Three

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!

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We’re leaving the Boring Brigade behind at last, so that’s nice. Of course, we have to run the Lucas gauntlet first, which is maybe not so nice… but it’s gotta get worse before it gets better. I guess.


Last time in the Pine Valley Chronicles…

…you know what? No. It wasn’t interesting enough to warrant a newspaper. Let’s just get this peepshow on the road, shall we?

I know for a fact that all of my townies have mirrors in their houses. There’s really no excuse for this.

Who’re you calling? “Shitsmellers Anonymous”?

Lucas: No, is not Tuesday. I am calling the policia. I am reporting this woman for walking past the home of the great Lucas Perez without making the traditional offering of blowjob and tacos.

Lucas: Tacos without blowjob are like no tacos at all.

I didn’t know “guy I want to punch in the face” was a job description.

Of course, if it is, I can totally understand why Lucas would have it.

Lucas: Excellent, my complimentary car whore arrives. Off with your beige wrappings, chiquita! The true uniform of car whores is glorious sexylady nakedness.
Jennifer Oates: Just… shut up and close the door, okay?

Have fun dancing in your douchebaggy pants?

Lucas: These pants saw no dancing, impotent sky-man. The pants of my ravishing dance-harem, on the other hand, saw dances they will never be forgetting.

I feel like hurting myself every time I write your dialogue.

But maybe writing it hurts enough already.

What could possibly have enticed you to come home with Lucas Perez?

Kitty Chin: He blocked up all the toilets at the dance studio and told me I could use his after work. He seemed really excited about it, too.

And that didn’t set off any warning bells for you?

Kitty: It’s hard to hear them over the screaming from my bowels.

Kitty: You could have just asked me out. You didn’t have to flush the toilet repairman.
Lucas: Is fine. He will meet samurai turtles in the sewers and learn from the magic rat-people.
Kitty: That’s a cartoon.
Lucas: No. It is an adventure!

Kitty: Is there a scientific explanation for you?

Lucas: Lucas Perez is a doctor of love science, chiquita! His gently-probing instruments can tell us much about the elasticity of your wormholes!
Kitty: I love mixed nonsense metaphors!

Even gross ones?

Kitty: Especially gross ones!

Lucas: Lady drums! Bom ba bom bom BOM!
Kitty: Keep it up and you might have to play a skin flute solo tonight.

Lucas: Secret agent man has lost his blushing bride. Lucas Perez will show her the true meaning of full disclosure!
Kitty: I bet she blows you off.
Lucas: On a first date?! How wonderful!

Kitty: You’ve been undressing me with your eyes all day, Lucas.
Lucas: I have been peering into your bowels. I have been watching the growth of our brown toilet child, and his glorious rebirth in my porcelain pool is close at hand!
Kitty: How about you just speak SimSpanish from now on, and I’ll pretend you’re not creating new and terrifying forms of body horror with every sentence?
Lucas: Only if you let me smell your poo.

Kitty: I didn’t know dudes still did that hand kissing thing!
Lucas: The hand that draws forth the pristine white anal sheets is a truly sacred and praiseworthy thing.
Kitty: You’ve got a toilet paper fetish too?!

Kitty: I can feel your hoverhands around my back.
Lucas: I await the swelling of your log-bearing bosom.
Kitty: Is this gonna be a whole chapter of shit jokes?

Jokes about shit, no. Jokes that are shit, well, I really can’t say.

Lucas: Alright, go take a dump. I’ll wait out here. Why am I saying this?!


Lucas: Sexy booty dance robot!
Kitty: Intriguing, but prohibitively expensive.

Lucas: Buttplugs with flags on!
Kitty: Borderline incomprehensible.

Lucas: Anal beads!
Kitty: Can’t we just have normal sex?

Lucas: You have broken my dreams, and so I shall break your hand.
Kitty: Aww, but that’s my handjob hand! Too bad!

Lucas: You are the finest, most delicate and most smooth desert flower, chiquita.
Kitty: .oO(One… two… three.)
Lucas: A man drowning in his own digested filth would gladly wipe his glorious bum factory on your welcoming blue leaves.
Kitty: .oO(He’s got excellent timing, you’ve gotta give him that.)

Kitty: So, handsome, you have a steady girl in your life?
Lucas: When they come to Lucas Perez, they are what you call steady. When they leave, they are unsteady with the weight of my love in their hearts, and in their bottoms.
Kitty: I’m not doing anal, you can fucking forget about it.
Lucas: Jeez, somebody’s got a dirty mind!

Kitty: Whoah, hello! Can’t you just worship from afar?

Lucas: Your squishy loaf pinchers thrill to my touch, chiquita.
Kitty:I think you’re completely misinterpreting the meaning of those goosebumps, Lucas.

Lucas: What is this? What is this bounty I have found?!
Kitty: It’s not toilet paper stuck to my ass, it’s thong underwear.
Lucas: It will take hours for the full force of my disappointment to dissipate.

I’ve gotta admit, you’re a real trouper.

Kitty: You’re gonna kill him soon, I can feel it. And when you do, if I’m living with him, I get to stay playable!

Surely there’s a more palatable way to go about achieving that, like raping dogs or maybe eating babies?

Oh yeah, I’ve still gotta download that…

Lucas: -sluurrrrrrp-
Kitty: You’re like my own personal antiperspirant!


How’s that taste? No, it’s okay, don’t answer. I’ll ask my nightmares later.

Lucas: Hey! Hands off my ass, you freak!

This is your idea of a good Best Friend?

Kitty: We’re both big fans of my ass.

Yeah, but he’s the kind of creepy stalker fan that sets up an ass shrine and prays to it every night.


Lucas: Funny little dark man has tiny little dark penis!

It’s shrinking in horror at the tales it’s heard about yours.

How can you possibly find this man attractive?!

Kitty: It’s chemical!

It’s criminal!

Lucas: Why more kissing? Why no sexing?!
Kitty: Yeah! Why no sexing?

I’m savouring the last few moments where I’ll be able to look at a naked human body and not feel a profound sense of revulsion.

This would be an excellent way to suffocate him to death.

And it would be an excellent way to suffocate to death, too.

Kitty: Lucas… I think I love you.
Lucas: I am thinking the same thing.
Kitty: You love me too?!
Lucas: No. You are thinking you love me, and I as well am thinking you love me. Is called grammar. Is perhaps worth looking up.

Bitches love it when you insult their intelligence.

Lucas: What this heart shit is doing?


Kitty: Alright, greasy man. Do your worst.

Oh god, don’t tell him that

Lucas: I am over here.
Kitty: And I am over here.
Lucas: I am giving you bad marks for service…

Lucas: …and finger marks on your sitting cheeks!
Kitty: He has got to be running out of ass euphemisms by now.

God, I hope so.

Lucas: We are sexing!
Kitty: Very good. Now try putting it into the vagina.
Lucas: Eww! Gross!

Lucas: This floor is now sex enough to eat off!

And Lucas enough to puke on!

Kitty: Well, that was fun. I’m gonna go kill myself in tears now.

Lucas: Magnificent bumdance chiquita… will you share my casa of forbidden poopy love?
Kitty: You are gonna kill him, right?

With extreme prejudice.

Kitty: Then what have I got to lose?! I’m in!

And don’t even get me started on what I’m gonna do to you.

Kitty: What? What was that?


Ass traitor.

No. You didn’t have sex. You had sex offenses.

Kitty: Hey, careful. You almost put your penis in the right hole.
Lucas: Is better than wiping.


Lucas: And now for funny!

No. There can never be funny again. Not after what we’ve seen and heard.

I hope you like this house. It’s gonna be yours soon.

Kitty: You promise?

If I write many more updates like this, I’ll have to turn myself in to the police. Yes, I promise.

I think of it as trading up.

Not that it’s possible to trade down from Lucas.

Lucas: I will trade down on you if you-



I really am sorry.


Tell me, Amin… for what career is that outfit appropriate?

That… was not going to be my first guess, I’ll be honest.

Cameron: Hello? Andrew? Hello?
Andrew: Yeah… yeah, baby… strut your stuff… take your time… oh… yeah… off with that nightgown, it’s far too warm inside for that…
Cameron: How is Penny, anyway?

Cameron: Ground Control to Major Tommy! Welcome to the Pine Valley Space Program. Your mission:

Cameron: Rendezvous with the Peeking at Our Goddamn Neighbour Telescope!
Tommy: Tell my wife I love her very much!
Cameron: She knows!

Andrew: Oh, you dirty little girl… I didn’t know you had a giant gnome fetish!

Andrew: What the… she’s cheating on Jerome with the exterminator!

I don’t think your telescope is pointed at the Newcastle household. I think it’s pointed at porn.

Andrew: Holy shit! There’s a helicopter having sex with the exterminator’s van!
Cameron: You know what? Never fucking mind.

Cameron: Whatever you’ve got, I don’t want to take the chance that it’s an STD.

Cameron: Haul those lines, men! We’ve got to get the good ship Cameron’s Life through these treacherous waters!

Cameron: Oh no! We’ve struck a shoal of Big Dumb Beard Guy! Abandon ship! Swim for your lives!

Andrew: Now it’s a threesome!

Man, times sure have changed around here. Even the seventies-style lounge lizards are eighties-style now.

Cameron: …he’s still got the lens cap on!

Hailey: Do you do mercenary work? There’s this creep in a tank top who keeps insisting I owe him a blowjob.
Amin: Don’t welsh on your blowjob debts, lady. It’ll come back to bite you in the vagina some day.

Amar Straight: Where’d you learn to run over rioters like that?
Amin: That video game with the SimChinese square and the tanks.
Amar: That’s… not a video game. That was news footage.
Amin: Bullshit! The tanks responded to my every command!

Amar: We need more functioning psychopaths like you, Amin.

Cameron: Ha! Who grows cactus plants in a temperate zone?

Nobody does. YOU’RE LOOKING AT STRANGETOWN. What observatory did he steal that telescope from, anyway?

Andrew: You can’t prove nothin’.

Who’re you calling?

Andrew: I’m not calling anybody. My id is.

Andrew: No, it’s okay. She won’t catch us. And even if she does, I’m pretty sure we can outrun her. Yeah. Pregnant. Yeah. Fat. See you soon!

Amin: Got any of those rollermines handy?

Oh, come on. He called you?

Chelsea: The phonecall was just a formality. I could hear the psychic screams of his libido from miles away.

Judging by the position of his hand, I’m thinking maybe you’re already too late.

Chelsea: Hi! Is Andrew here? Are you a sasquatch? I’m here to see Andrew. Are you a yeti? Andrew invited me over. WHAT KIND OF CRYPTID ARE YOU
Amin: I like to think of myself as a cryptidfascist.

Chelsea: Do you ever drive that thick maple tree of yours down Pleasure River?
Amin: Call me later and I’ll give you a shot of my sweet sticky syrup.

Amin: I hope I get another promotion so I can fire this guy.
Amar: Sure is hanging around in your house, isn’t it?
Amin: Out of a cannon.

Chelsea: So, you’re married to my sister now.
Andrew: Yeah.
Chelsea: After you had to kill the blonde twit you broke off our engagement to be with.
Andrew: That was a mistake.
Chelsea: And what would you call marrying one of the only three voluntary zombies in history?
Andrew: What can I say? She’s got an infectious personality, and she appreciates my brains!


Chelsea: What is it about that beard that compels me to love you so?
Andrew: Pheremone shampoo.
Chelsea: What?
Andrew: I said “I love you too.”

Chelsea: Awesome! So, we’re gonna fuck now, right?
Andrew: I dunno, I’m torn. If only someone would give me a sign!

Night: -falls-
Chelsea: …you planned it this way, didn’t you.
Andrew: What’s a mad scientist without plans?

Chelsea: OOF
Andrew: Bad ghost Kyle! Don’t ghost punch my visitors!

Amin: Come on! I can take it!
Amar: No! Seriously, dude, no!
Amin: Just try it, wussy!

Chelsea: Andrew?
Andrew: Yes, honey?
Chelsea: The fucking Sim Modder.
Andrew: Oh god, I’m so sorry. On the floor?
Chelsea: On the fucking floor.

Avert your eyes, I’ll delete it.

Chelsea: The vacant expression… those stiff outstretched arms…


Amar: So, Major Tommy. The first gnome in space.

Amar: I bow to your superior bravery.

Chelsea: You’re a terrible Family Sim, cheating on your wife with her sister.
Andrew: You’re a terrible Romance Sim, pining away for a Family Sim.

Pretty sure it’s genetic, in both cases.

Chelsea: This wallpaper looks terrible. Whose room is this, anyway?
Andrew: This was Kyle’s.
Chelsea: What? We’re making out in your dead older brother’s room?!
Andrew: Stop freaking out! He haunts the bathroom next door. He only sleeps in here. Sleeps, and waits, and watches. Resenting the warmth and happiness of our thoughtless mortal lives.

Chelsea: Well, that’s alright then.

Andrew: Are you still dating that supervillain?
Chelsea: He’s not a supervillain! He’s a firefighter!
Andrew: And you don’t see anything villainous about working seven days a month and eating pizza on the taxpayer’s dime for a hundred thousand simoleons a year?

Man, sleepgarbaging is way more efficient than sleepwalking!

Andrew: Ah, yes. I remember this ass. I remember this ass well.
Chelsea: It remembers you too. It hasn’t met many other people who had so little sense of what to do with it.

Chelsea: …although I do admit you seem to have picked up a few tricks since then.
Andrew: When you date a zombie, you have to try extra hard to get through to all those half-dead nerve endings.

Chelsea: You know, there’s no law against polygamy.
Andrew: If you were living here, and I was living here, and Cameron was living here, I’d need to make a flowchart to keep track of who was allowed to see who cheating on who and I need all my flowcharts for actual science.

Go back to bed?

Cameron: Something’s telling me there’s something out here I need to see.

Never listen to somethings if you can’t see what they are. Go back to bed!

Andrew: It’s nice that you moved into your parents’ old house. We’re filling the old street back up!
Chelsea: I hear your mom’s kicking William out. Think he’ll move back here too?
Andrew: I hope so, it’ll make for a shorter trip when I finally snap and decide to disintegrate him.

Andrew: Beard’s pretty tickly, I know.
Chelsea: I’m not giggling because your beard is tickly. I’m giggling because your beard is absurd.

Andrew: You’re getting pretty thin, Chelsea. Can I press you to a human hot dog?
Chelsea: Got any mustard?

Man. You know, you might be hotter than your mom?

Chelsea: My mom should be old and grody. It’s not fair that she got an axe to the head and came back young and sexy.

It’s fair to me.

Chelsea: You sure Cameron won’t hear us?
Andrew: Dad had these rooms soundproofed in case he needed to bang your mom.
Chelsea: He had your bedrooms soundproofed in case he needed to bang my mom in your bedrooms?!
Andrew: Newsflash: my dad’s kind of a jerk.

Chelsea: Mmm! Tastes like radium!
Andrew: Equipment shielding is just too damn expensive.

Where’s George McFly when you need him?

Cameron: What the fuck are you doing out here?

Amin: Figuring out what the fuck you’re doing out here.

Andrew: What’s she doing?
Chelsea: Talking to your walking carpet.
Andrew: Maybe we should move away from the window.
Chelsea: And take all the voyeurism out of this? Are you nuts?!

Andrew: Does Peter know you’re such a dirty little girl?
Chelsea: It would explain why he’s always taking showers. Of course, it wouldn’t explain why the drains are all full of blood and guts when he finishes…

That head really does not belong on that body.

Chelsea: It doesn’t belong on this planet.

Andrew: Look at us, being all naked and sexy!
Chelsea: Sorry dude, it’s all me. I just loaned you some of my sexy so you wouldn’t be embarassed.

Andrew: What should we do next, baby? Missionary? Doggystyle? Up against the wall, even?

Chelsea: I’m gonna look at that hairy dude’s huge brown penis.
Andrew: Then you leave me no choice.

Andrew: Sneak attack!

Chelsea: I hear that dude across the street could perform one of these “sneak attacks” and you actually would not notice.
Andrew: Really? He’s that small? Awesome, because I think his fiancĂ© is totally into me.
Chelsea: And are you totally into her?
Andrew: That’s the plan, anyway.

Chelsea: I can’t believe you’re still so ticklish.
Andrew: It’s a reflex action from having a zombie girlfriend locked in my attic for five years. I keep expecting you to attack me.
Chelsea: The only thing I could infect you with is hotness, and I’m pretty sure you’re immune.

Andrew: One good tickle deserves another!
Chelsea: Don’t bother. Those nerve endings you were talking about? They don’t grow back after you drink the cure. On the plus side, I can get crabs and not notice it now.

Chelsea: OOF
Andrew: Kyle! BAD ghost brother! But yeah… as long as you’re already down there…

Chelsea: Not tonight, buddy. I think it’s time you spent some time with your actual wife.
Andrew: Genetically speaking, you’re practically the same person.
Chelsea: Don’t speak genetics, it’s a real mood killer.

Andrew: Come over again soon, okay?
Chelsea: You’re not even feeling the tiniest little twinge of guilt about this?
Andrew: Whenever I do, I make some quick mental calculations. I’m pretty sure “sacrificing a dormitory full of innocent young adults” is worth at least fifty sister-fuckings.
Chelsea: I’ll take your word for it, I was never very good at fake math.

Cameron: -wills her piss into the toilet-

I guess it’s a pain heaving that big belly up and down for stupid things like basic bodily functions.

Chelsea: Nice place. Maybe I’ll live here some day.

I don’t wanna have to recolour your outfit again.

Chelsea: Well maybe you could stop being so OCD about clothes matching decor.


Cameron: …did the front door just shut?

Yeah, I think it was ghost Kyle getting some air.

Cameron: Good, I hope he ghost chokes on it.

Cameron: Why are you naked?
Andrew: So we can have sex.
Cameron: But the clothes come off automatically when we have sex.
Andrew: Well excuse me for finding that weird and creepy.

Andrew: And excuse me for finding you almost as hot as your sister, baby!
Cameron: Give me a moment to figure out the fake math on that, and I’ll decide it it’s even possible to excuse you.

Andrew: Never mind, you’re much hotter. I love a chick who can do fake math in her head!

Cameron: Speaking of my sister… I bought a tennis raquet today.
Andrew: What’s that got to do with your sister?
Cameron: Cheat on me with her and your balls are gonna find out.

Andrew: Threats of physical violence arouse me!
Cameron: Why else would you fuck so many crazy chicks?
Andrew: You admit you’re a crazy chick, then?
Cameron: Why else would I marry a dude who looks like you?

Andrew: I’m so glad we’re together, Cameron. Nobody else can keep up with my witty repartee.
Cameron: I’m not smart, I’m just written that way.

Cameron: So, what’re you gonna do with your time now that the zombie thing’s pretty much over?

Andrew: Start a new generation and see what bullshit problems they come up with?
Cameron: They can’t be any more bullshit than the ones we had.

Wanna bet? Anyway, come back next Friday for various kinds of depravity. I know that’s how you like it.

Now get off the computer and go see The Dark Knight Rises.

If you’re already seen The Dark Knight Rises, go see it again.

You can stop when it’s out of theatres.

Until it comes out on Blu-Ray.

We clear?

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