The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Sixty-Six

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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So, I wrote this entire chapter backwards.

You’re welcome?

Yeah, I haven’t done a newspaper entry for the last few chapters. Do you really need another “nothing happened” update? Because that’s far too much like reading a real newspaper.

Kendra: Book it! We’re ready to get married. We’ll be there in about two hours.

Do you really need reservations for the church?

Kendra: Yeah, they need to remove all the religious stuff before we get there. So we don’t start laughing.

Kendra: Hey baby! Looking good!
Michael: Morning honey! Looking unprepared! Very feminine.

I still can’t believe you installed dual toilets.

Michael: Duel toilets! Every bowel movement is a competition!

You’re… that’s… next pic.

Michael: Your chariot awaits, sexybuns!

Kendra: This is not a chariot. This is your pickup truck.

Just be glad he isn’t asking you to pay gas money.

In fact, I’m surprised he didn’t suggesting walking.

You know, if one of my community lots had to become a failed community lot, I’m glad it ended up being the church.

Venkat Hogan: Hey baby! Lookin’ good!
Kendra: Maybe we should come back tomorrow.

Hey, this must be a really important wedding. The Queen showed up!

Melanie: Ha ha. Very funny.

No, seriously. You’re the closest thing this neighbourhood has to a public figure right now.

Melanie: Because I got all those people killed.

The mark of a true leader!

Kendra: Yes, keep it at that angle. Then we can pretend I didn’t show up at my wedding in a pickup truck.


How can you possibly have body odour in the winter.

Kenya: It’s one of my superpowers. They can’t all be winners.


So try not wearing shorts in the winter?

Kendall: What, and walk around in my underwear? You’re nuts!

Kendra: Whoah, it’s Zombie Queen Melanie Lillard!
Melanie: Whoah, it’s some street whore in an expensive dress!
Kendra: Keep it up, if you wanna play Tokyo to my Bridezilla.

You okay, man? You look a little zonked out.

Michael: Five… five…

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

Michael: Five… five?!

Just take your time.


Hey, it’s a real wedding now!

Kendra: He’s kinda cute.

I think that dress is too tight, you’re not getting any oxygen to your brain.

Kendra: Are you eating the wedding food? Before we even get married?
Michael: Nobody’s gonna take our wedding arch if we don’t use it soon. The food, on the other hand…

Kendra: Why don’t we skip the whole “getting married” part and just eat the rest of this turkey.
Michael: We’re eating the rest of it either way. Wait until you see the bill. Apparently this turkey is made of gold.

Michael: I don’t know these people. Do you know these people?
Kendra: The one behind you is a mass murderer, I think.
Michael: I expected celebrities at my wedding, but that’s a bit much.

Veronica Wilsonoff: The wedding, it calls to me!
The Unsavoury Charlatan: The wallets, they call to me!

Kendra: Are we really gonna go through with this?
Michael: The catering cost me five hundred bucks. If we don’t go through with this, I’m never getting married.

Melanie: All I’m saying is, I’m a lover now. I’m not a fighter.
Venkat: And all I’m saying is, that’s totally lame.

The Unsavoury Charlatan: .oO(Maybe I should start stealing… people.)

Kendra: Why are we waiting? We don’t know any of these people anyway.
Michael: They are eating my food. They must provide clapping as recompense.

Alright, whatever. Michael, do you take this prostitute as your awfully wedded wife?

Kendra: Why you stupid son of a-
Michael: I do!

Awesome. Kendra, do you take this vain self-absorbed man-child as your awfully wedded husband?

Kendra: You gonna take that, Michael?
Michael: Yeah, I think so. It’s pretty much true. Don’t you think?
Kendra: -sigh- I do.

Veronica: Get this shit over with, people, my dogs are barkin’!

Kendra: This is the part where you take your hand off the ring, and it stays on my finger.
Michael: Yes. It’s the part I’ve been dreading.

I now pronounce you husband and… dude, what the hell?

Kendra: I am not a “dude, what the hell.” You can pronounce it all you like.

The Unsavoury Charlatan: Bravo! Bravo! Bully for you!
Stephen: Shit, the wedding’s still on. I was hoping to show up just in time for the luncheon.

Veronica: Yeah! Woo! Who are these people?

Kendall: Hey! Is that Zombie Queen Melanie Lillard?!
Stephen: Yes, and over there is a wedding which you are ruining.
Kendall: Says the dude in the white slob shirt.

Michael: Mm. You didn’t take your glasses off.
Kendra: Mhm. You didn’t take your money clip off, either.

Kendall: Hmm.

Kendall: When opportunity knocks, Kendall answers.

Stereotypes… in stereo!

Michael: Oh my god, it’s Zombie Queen Melanie Lillard!
The Unsavoury Charlatan: Has Zombie Queen Melanie Lillard got a wallet under there somewhere, by any chance?
Melanie: Try me, and we’ll find out if you’ve got any brains under that top hat.

Kendra has the utmost respect for the institution of marriage. And the church.

Kendra: And being sexy.

Mostly being sexy.

The Unsavoury Charlatan: Greetings and salutations, Mr. Hogan!
Venkat: How do you know my name?!
The Unsavoury Charlatan: I know everyone’s name. I have a photographic database of the entire neighbourhood, sorted by financial liquidity.
Venkat: Oh, okay.

You don’t even know these people.

Stephen: I was walking by. I was hungry. And “starving artist” sounds romantic, but “contentedly full artist” is a hell of a lot more fun.

The Unsavoury Charlatan: Can you see it, Mr. Hogan? Off on the horizon, fast approaching, inevitable, no matter what you do? Can you see it, Mr. Hogan?

The Unsavoury Charlatan: ANARCHY.

Kendra: You could at least have rented a limo.
Michael: Really? Because I’d put that just a touch beyond “at most.”

Man, what a useless waste of space.

Just like a real church!

You should have tied a bunch of empty soup cans to the bumper.

According to TV and movies, this hasn’t been a wedding at all!

Kendra: Hi Michael! Sex?
Michael: Always sex!

Kendra: Alright, now carry me across the threshold.
Michael: You have to pay shipping and handling first.
Kendra: The handling pays for the shipping, buddy. Most dudes would glady pay for this.
Michael: See, now you’re making prostitution jokes.

Michael: Help! Help! A yellow hair worm is clawing its way out of my back!
Kendra: Don’t worry! I’ll suck it out through your hand!

Man, this is a great new look for you. You’re gonna add a touch of class to this neighbourhood, Kendra.

Or… not.

Kendra: I’m BORED.

So get a job.

Kendra: I don’t WANT a job.

So read a book.

Kendra: I don’t LIKE books.

So make some sexy poses and we’ll take pictures of you.

Kendra: Okay FINE.

If there was hair like that in the real world, I’d buy a wig of it and never leave the house again.


The only thing that would improve this would be your hair model not being a complete clippy asshole.

Kendra: Don’t be sexist. My hair’s not an asshole. It’s a bitch.

…man. They’re right. You never go back.

What’s this one called? “The Complete Doofus”?

Kendra: Man, you are GOOD at charades!

That’s a nice pose.

Kendra: I think I broke both of my legs.

That’s a nice story.

This one is gonna end up as a poster, mark my words.

Kendra: You’re marking them yourself. In the journal.

That’s not what it means. It means, notice my words and consider them important. It’s old-timey.

Kendra: No, it means whatever people use it to mean these days.


I like to imagine that this journal is doing wonders for couch manufacturers.

I remember when TV used to make me do that.

And then puberty happened.

And now, something completely different.

Kendra: -devours the scenery-

Sideboob! It’s the best boob.

Kendra: Hey! Get out from under there.

It’s okay, they forgot to draw genitals on you.


You can’t look stern with a goofy grin on your face.

Kendra: I’m not trying to look stern, I’m trying to cover up. You’ve taken like fifty naked pictures of me this update!


Kendra: Is this gonna end soon?

That depends. Are you gonna put some clothes on soon?

Kendra: I wasn’t planning on it.


Stephen: AUGH! Your penis is pink! And it hasn’t fallen off! That’s so gross!

Man, I hate Michael’s skintone.

I could do without so much awesome dude ass, is what I’m saying.

Stephen: Man, this bottle really hurts when I shove it in my eye sockets!

Hey, are you making a snow zombie? Can I help?


These are reminders. “Don’t forget: nobody you can call is nearly as awesome as anybody in this house.”

Dagmar: I can’t see what you’re looking at, but whatever it is, it’s making me feel filthy.

This one is a warning label for the stereo. “Warning: using this stereo is not nearly as awesome as banging your wife would be.”

Tylopoda: In my day, you could stone a woman to death for staring at you like that.

For when those awkward dinner conversations just aren’t quite awkward enough.

You say shower, I say show ‘er.

Kendra: Ack! Michael! You’re naked!
Michael: So what? You’ve been naked practically all day!
Kendra: Yeah, but I’m good at it.

Michael: So, they’re thinking of putting a prison in the bay.
Kendra: Why? We don’t even have a criminal justice system.
Michael: They’re thinking of starting one.
Kendra: Have you been embezzling again?

Stephen: Bye, table! I’m sorry the Grim Reaper thought you were a dead table!

Michael: Money. Bags of money. Big bags of money, in my bank vault. For me.
Kendra: This is… how you get an erection. I get it.
Michael: No, the erection is just a side effect. This is my version of sex.

Kendra: How about we try the real version of sex?
Michael: Can we talk about money while we do it?
Kendra: You might find it difficult, with my crotch in your face.

Michael: I might find nothing difficult, with your crotch in my face!

Michael: Hey, I’m… down here, Kendra.
Kendra: Sorry, right. I was adjusting your height, to account for your ego.

Kendra: Oh, Michael. You’re rich, and I’m your love slave. It’s the perfect marriage.

Kendra: Wait. I just realized. That’s terrible. I’m gonna go sleep on the couch.

Michael: I’m too sexy for my wife.

Don’t sing. Next time: teenagers getting laid. Because getting laid is all we do around here lately.

Wait. Why did that sound like a complaint?

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