The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Fifty-Four

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.

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The family emergency has calmed down somewhat. Your kind words have been appreciated; I shall now reciprocate with a few thousand unkind ones, as is our custom.

Last time in the Pine Valley Chronicles…

Let’s just… put all that behind us for now, alright? No more Fun with Flatulence. It’s time for Naked Neighbours instead!

That looks like a really meditation-condusive atmosphere.

Vicki: If I concentrate on how cold the concrete is, I can almost lose the smell of the garbage and the piss. The smell of that dude, though, is entirely beyond the control of mind-over-matter.

I seem to remember your mind being a little bit out of control, too.

Vicki: I really have no idea why I killed all those people.

An airtight argument if ever I heard one.

Vicki: Hoooooo. Serenity! Here, serenity! Auntie Vicki needs her panic attack to stop!

Hah! I remember that! Kinda cool that it’s her last memory before the whuck.

Don’t you think you’ve got too many layers on for this weather, Chelsea?

Chelsea: I’m melting the snow in a five-foot radius with my sheer impeccable hotness. I can wear whatever the fuck I want.

There’s a chance you’re gonna come home to a bunch of dead bodies, by the way.

Chelsea: I’ve lived in Pine Valley all my life, buddy, and let me tell you: there’s always a chance of that.

I wonder if a painting is worth more when its artist is crushed in mid-stroke by a bag of money that fell from the sky.

Peter: The painting might still be worthless, but the newspaper story would be priceless.

You’re gonna need some serious steroids if you’re gonna compete with William, Peter.

Peter: Contrary to popular myth, secret agents from rival agencies do not have penis duels.


Peter: We use swords.

I brought you back to life for this?

Peter: Yeah, not sure what you were thinking really.

Peter: Sultry!

Get your hand off your penis!

Peter: SULTRY!


Peter: Good, Chelsea’s hotness trail is still here.

Peter: I’m starting to think my decoder ring is never gonna come.

How many box tops did you send in?

Peter: Ten. But I think they’re really backed up, with all those shitty little kids wanting one.

We’re talking about real, secret agent decoder rings?

Peter: Can you think of a better way to distribute them without arousing suspicion?

No, but I feel like you guys should have.

Peter: Oh well. My Little Orphan Annie membership card came, at least.

And you use that to, what, access your evil secret agent lair?

Peter: No, you use it to get a discount on Little Orphan Annie merchandise. Are you drunk or something?

Peter: Good, you’re up!
Peter: But I really value this family time!

Randy: I thought you were an axe murderer! Little help here?!
Vicki: See any axes lying around?
Randy: Break a mirror and get him with the glass!
Vicki: Who’s ever heard of a “mirror murderer”?!


Vicki: These dudes are nuts!

Says the chick who killed half a dozen people for knowing her husband.

Vicki: The axe made me do it! I could hear it in my brain!

Did you just use that as a rebuttal to the assertion that you’re crazy?

Vicki: I hear gnomes, flamingos and even penises can talk. Why not axes?

Because axes that incite you to murder aren’t funny. They’re terrifying.

Vicki: Why do they hate each other so much?

Peter hates Randy because Randy made him a zombie. Randy hates Peter because Peter shot him to death about fifty times.

Vicki: And they’re BROTHERS?!
Peter: Only biologically.

Vicki: …you want me to do WHAT?

I want you to flirt with Peter.

Vicki: And why the heck would I do that?!

So he’s not tempted to murder you.

Also, you should pretend to still be axe crazy. I bet he loves that.


Yeah, well, you started it.

Vicki: Is that a penis on your groin, or are you just happy to see me?

Vicki: Look out! Critical mass of interface crap over our heads!

And the mirrors aren’t helping either.

Vicki: This was really not worth coming back to life for.

“Hi, you’ve reached Chelsea and Peter. We’re either not home, on the other line, or beating the shit out of someone. Please leave a message after the whuck.


Chelsea: Hey, my phone’s ringing.

There’s no way you’ve got a phone on you.

Chelsea: You’d be amazed how many new storage spaces open up when you become a zombie.

By all means, do not enlighten me.

Chelsea: What do you mean, you “put on your robe and wizard hat”?

Vicki: What’s wrong with that blonde dude’s skin, anyway?

He’s a zombie.

Vicki: Come again?

You really picked a good forty-odd chapter stretch to be dead, let me tell you.

Quick! Back to flirting!

Vicki: I really don’t think I can do this!

If you can flirt with Neil Sharpe you can flirt with damn near anyone!

Vicki: But Neil had a really big penis! That was a factor!
Peter: I should show you my really big rifle, maybe that will be a factor.

Vicki: Hey… you big, tough, ass-kicking mountain man… I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I killed like six people twenty years ago.
Peter: But what have you done lately? I just killed a dude two seconds ago!
Randy: What’s he talking… talking… about…?

Randy: Not… again… snrrrk…
Peter: Dude! I actually beat somebody to death! Tell me that’s not badass!
Vicki: I’m crying tears of joy for you! Because you’re so badass! -sniffle-

Vicki: .oO(Please, somebody… kill me again.)

I’ve gotta admit, I wouldn’t know what to do with Randy if he ever lived for more than five minutes.

Vicki: You remind me of my husband. He was a strong, no-nonsense kind of guy.
Peter: You’re that serial killer chick, right? Man, best project ever. All the guys at ENTROPY wanted in on “Operation: Sharpe Axes.”
Vicki: What are you talking about?
Peter: Sorry, I know how boring it is to hear about other people’s jobs. I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about mind-controlling axes and shit.
Vicki: …you’d be surprised!

Vicki: Please, do go on. About how all those murders weren’t my fault.
Allison: Somebody die down here?
Vicki: Somebody probably will if you don’t go back upstairs and leave.

Peter: We sure did a number on you, lady! Coach to serial killer in less than five years!
Vicki: You wouldn’t happen to have any incriminating documentation of that lying around, would you?
Peter: I never mix business with pleasure, Vicki, and this place is all about pleasure.
Vicki: I should have guessed that from all the piss and murder you keep down here.

Who’s that other tombstone belong to?

Peter: The chick in the beat-up goth clothes.

I didn’t even see you kill her!

Peter: You see one chick shot to pieces, you’ve seen ’em all.

Peter: I like a girl who cleans. I make a lot of messes.
Vicki: How many of those messes can typically fit in a garbage bag, though?
Peter: Most of them can, with liberal usage of machetes and baseball bats.

Vicki: There is a person’s hand in here.

What, just the one?

Vicki: William Sharpe is the head of the SCIA?!


Vicki: Half the state turned into zombies?!


Vicki: Cecilia has her own television drama?!


Vicki: Some of the Murphy kids have names?!

Really? Let me see that!

Chelsea: I got that plant you wanted. I had to fuck two dudes at the state department, three customs officials, and no less than fifteen scientists, but it finally came in the inter-office mail this morning.
Peter: Awesome! Give me a list of their names, so I can arrange completely unrelated accidental deaths for all of them!

Peter: Oh, by the way, my brother resurrected a serial killer. I think she’s the one who killed your mom.

Peter: …I love you?
Chelsea: We’re going to have words, Peter, if I ever find words to describe this.

Huh. I guess Chelsea really was talking to a wizard. But… how did you end up landing in the basement, dude?

Scot Macarevich the Infallibly Good Warlock: It’s called the Aunt Clara Effect. Look it up.

Chelsea: So.
Vicki: Yep.
Chelsea: You’re that serial killer.
Vicki: Yep.
Chelsea: The one who killed my mother.
Vicki: If it helps, I didn’t want to.
Chelsea: That doesn’t help.
Vicki: She’s in a better place now?
Chelsea: She’s in UNIVERSITY now. William resurrected her.
Vicki: What the hell? Is this a comic book or something? Doesn’t anyone stay dead?!

Peter: What are you doing.
Scot Macarevich the Infallibly Good Warlock: Jumping rope in your basement?
Peter: Can you tell me why?
Scot Macarevich the Infallibly Good Warlock: Probably not!

Peter: You didn’t come through the house. You just… crashed your broom right into my basement.
Scot Macarevich the Infallibly Good Warlock: Seems that way!
Peter: Well, you’re far too nonsense dangerous to live.

Vicki: Look, I’m sorry about your mother but I swear it wasn’t my fault. The evil secret agents had some plan to make me kill my husband or something and it backfired.
Chelsea: Whatever. I’m gonna call the cops.
Vicki: Probably not a good idea, since your boyfriend is one of those evil secret agents. I think he’s setting up a new identity for me as we speak.
Chelsea: For the last time, he’s a firefighter!
Vicki: Sure, in a sense. I bet he’s always snuffing out the sparks of human life.
Chelsea: …shut up!

What the fuck?

Vicki: It’s only temporary until Chelsea goes to the clothing store.

Who the fuck are you supposed to be?

Vicki: Isn’t it obvious? With the spiky hair?

You can’t seriously expect people to think you’re Cecilia!

Vicki: Why not? She’s been gone for years, who knows how she looks now? And anyway our faces are roughly the same shape.

There’s a manhunt for Cecilia! She killed a whole bunch of people with axes and a machine gun!

Vicki: ENTROPY is orchestrating a pardon for her. For me.

…but who will pardon that outfit?

Chelsea: grumble mumble secret agents grumble mumble serial killers grumble mumble

There’s no way this plan’s gonna work, Chelsea. You should just get as far from Peter as you possibly can.

Chelsea: What can I say? Bitches love douchebags.

Tell me about it.

Stephen: Hey baby! I fucked your mother when she was your age!
Brady: Mr. Macauley is off his meds again. Somebody call Centreborough General!

Andrew: Thank goodness you guys are here! Now, quick! Buy some sensible clothes.

Victor Cwik: Chelsea! Fancy seeing you here!
Chelsea: Who the fuck are you?
Victor: Victor Cwik? My wife and I are the police chiefs? Say, I heard a rumour there were some Grim Reaper collection beams hitting the ground around your house lately. Know anything about it?
Chelsea: Probably some townies drowned in a puddle.
Victor: I buy that.

Kenya: Hi Chelsea!
Chelsea: Why does everyone here know me?!
Kenya: Well, duh! I’m Captain Hero! I know everything! Say, I hear you’re living with evil secret agent mastermind Peter Reiner, and he’s working undercover as a firefighter! Strange world, huh?
Chelsea: I hate this neighbourhood!

Chelsea: And yeah, if you fucked my mother, she was drunk.

Andrew: Jesus SimChrist on his Simthrone.

No kidding, huh?

Decided to try out a new outfit for yourself too, eh.

Chelsea: It looks weird if you buy a whole bunch of women’s clothing and don’t wear some of it.

Oh, totally. You should see the looks I get.

Something has survived!

The Lost Zombie: Jurassic Fivehead.

Good lord. Most people in zombie movies are stupid, but I don’t think they’re ever that stupid.

Peter: So now the bitch is all pissed off that I’m a secret agent and my bosses are all pissed off that they had to make a new identity for the other bitch, and I’M all pissed off because that was a lot of effort to go to without getting to kill anybody!

There, there. It could be worse!

You could be Kaylynn.

Kaylynn: Who’s the chick with the ridiculous everything?
Vicki: I’m a work in progress!
Kaylynn: You’re a jerk in hot pants, is what you are.

Scot Macarevich the Infallibly Good Warlock: I’m sure he didn’t mean to lock the door behind him.

Peter: I’ll take the usual order, but hold the B.O.

Peter: Well? Aren’t you gonna say something?

Randy: Is there really a point? Snrrrk.

What a loser. Zombies went out of style like forever ago.

So did Cecilias, but… man. That looks good on you. You didn’t even need any surgery!

Vicki “Cecilia”: Cecilia’s less about looks and more about attitude.

Yeah, most people won’t really believe you’re her unless they actually see you murder someone.

Randy: I don’t see him.
Peter: He’s gotta be in there, I locked the door and everything!

Door: -shuts-
Lock: -clicks-
Randy: Hey! Snrrk! Why’d you lock me in?!
Peter: Because SOMEBODY’s getting eaten tonight!

Scot Macarevich the Infallibly Good Warlock: Hello there! Are you a friend of Chelsea’s?
“Cecilia”: I thought you were locked in the basement.
Scot Macarevich the Infallibly Good Warlock: Presumably you also thought I wasn’t a goddamn wizard?
“Cecilia”: The outfit and the sparkles were suspicious, but I figured maybe you were a Liberace or something.

Chelsea: Fucking wizards. And zombies. What’s next? Ghosts?


Chelsea: Alright, so here’s the deal. I’m not mad you’re a world-famous murderer, but from now on you’re reformed. I don’t have to slum it here with you, there’s plenty of other dude fish in the dude sea, and you’re gonna have to work at it if you want to keep me.
Peter: I could have you mind-wiped.
Chelsea: But then I’d forget how to do that thing you like with the tongue and the-

Randy: Thank god for this suspiciously-convenient shower! Snrrrk!

Yeah, ‘cuz the cowplant won’t eat smelly people.

Randy: Yeah! What? Yeah!


“Cecilia”: So. That’s how it is, is it?

Don’t tell me you actually liked him.

“Cecilia”: Daily Relationship over fifty, plus one romantic interaction, equals Crush.

Add “evil secret agent” and “insane mass murderer” to that and tell me what you get.

Chelsea: Alright, that one was a freebie. But you’re cut off until you apologize to William, and find out why Vicki was framed.

Peter: .oO(How about I just pretend to do that stuff, and secretly plot to destroy William and frame Vicki again?)
Chelsea: How about you just do what I tell you to?

You really lend yourself to this kind of picture, don’t you?


“Cecilia”: It’s better than being dead.

If you say so.

Kaylynn: -is so stoked to be dead-


Kaylynn: Or maybe I’ll just raid your fridge.

What made you change your mind?

Oh. Got spooked, did you? Ha ha.

Stinky Skunk: You think you’re funny but you’re not.


Randy: I could really go for some… cake. On a tentacle. Attached to a cow. On a stem. Am I pregnant? Snrk.

Cowplant: O RLY

Randy: I was thinking chocolate, but I guess that’ll do. Snrrrk.

Randy: No, my fantasy cake was definitely at eating level. This is no longer my fantasy cake. This fantasy cake is a l-


Cowplant: ‘choo lookin’ at.


Randy’s dead again. Does that mean the clocks go back, or do you have to change your smoke alarm batteries?

Chelsea: That was one fucked-up update.
Peter: I liked it.
Chelsea: There was way too much exposition.
Peter: It was necessary.
Chelsea: And no twist ending? Lamesauce.

“Cecilia”: I feel funny.

I don’t. This wasn’t one of my better chapters.

“Cecilia”: No, I mean… I feel… funny.

“Cecilia”: What?!


“Cecilia”: WHAT?!


“Cecilia”: NEIL!!!!!!!

Peter: Stupid ancient pregnancy isn’t ending my update.

Peter: Did you eat my useless brother? Good girl! I’m sorry you missed the Liberace, but we’ll get him eventually.

Yeah. He doesn’t look all that hard to get, really.

Peter: Somehow I imagined Randy would come out yellow. I don’t know why.

Peter: Man! You know what, Lady Macbeth was nuts.

Peter: I’m full of the milk of humankind, and it feels fucking great! The only way to improve it…

Peter: …would be a fuck-you-Randy chaser!

Chelsea: I’m glad Peter’s turned over a new leaf.

Yeah, except he’s found a bunch of ants under it, and I saw him looking for a magnifying glass.

Next time: a whole lot of incest, and if there’s time afterward… actually, there won’t be time afterward. There really is that much incest.

And you’re looking forward to it, too.

How sick is that.

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