The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Sixty-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.

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Haha! Sixty-nine! Get it?

Naturally, it’s about toddlers.

I wish real environmentalists looked like that.

It would make them easier to ignore.

Damn hippies.

I wish real pedophiles looked like that.

Kent: I’m a butler, not a pedophile.

It would make it easier to identify them to the cops.


Andrew: Now, don’t panic, but I hear the pedophile coming up the stairs. Scream if he leaves you on the floor for longer than an hour.
Angelica: .oO(How about I just start screaming now and never stop.)

Kent: I sense a child imprisoned! She must be liberated.

To the floor.

Kent: To the floor, yeah, of course. Where else?

Kent: Hey. There’s a male one, too. And it’s asleep.
Nathaniel: .oO(Feign death, monster will leave. Feign death, monster will leave…)

Andrew: There’s a Humvee on the second floor of Penny’s house!

The only thing that gets worse mileage than my telescope jokes.

Kent: Hm. Stink… stink… food. Right. Food fixes stink. Is that right? I think that’s right.

Andrew: And there’s a flying saucer in the upper hallway!

Nonsense, there’s no intelligent life in this universe.

Case in point.

Kent: This’ll straighten out your spine! And satisfy my sadism, too.



Kent: Hahaha! Hoo! Boy, that’s gross.

Kent: Off with the diaper!
Angelica: .oO(Yay!)
Kent: On with the pedophilia!
Angelica: .oO(Boo!)

Kent: I’m just kidding. My fetishes are solely related to putting babies on the floor. And maybe stepping on them, too.

I dunno, that still sounds like a form of pedophilia to me.

Kent: It’s closer to podophilia, I think.

Kent: Oh, babies. So helpless. So hot.

Cameron: Hey, I didn’t know the butler was here.

Cameron: What’s your problem?
Nathaniel: .oO(I don’t know how to explain it, I’ve never met a psychiatrist!)

Cameron: Is it too late to put these things back where they came from?

Not in certain forms of internet fiction.

All’s well that ends well.

But as a giant blue man with a giant blue penis once said, “Nothing ever ends.”

Cameron: What’re you doing up here again?
Kent: I totally just came back to get this bottle.

Kent: I’ll be leaving now.

Kent: Oh! Oh. You’re still in there.
Cameron: Yes.
Kent: Great! That’s great. I’ll just go… do some other stuff, then. Maybe I’ll make lunch or something.
Cameron: No thank you, I prefer to keep my food off the floor.

Cameron: I’m telling you, the guy’s a freak.
Andrew: And I’m telling you, there’s a helicopter in Penny’s upstairs hallway.
Cameron: You know, there’s snowflakes all over the lens.
Andrew: Yeah? Well let me know if any of them are red and helicopter-shaped. Otherwise, leave me alone I’m busy.

Warhead disarmer, huh?

Amin: They used to call it “Foreign Warhead Disarmer,” but since we only disarm other people’s warheads anyway, it seemed kinda redundant.

Right, because the only country that deserves to have them is the only country ever insane enough to use them.

Amin: Hey, it was only SimJapan. They’re really weird over there.

So you thought high doses of radiation would help. Well done.

Awesome, an armchair from the folks over at the Warhead Disarming Agency. Because those guys know comfort, let me tell you.

Phoenix: Hey, mugging a gnome! Awesome! I’m a gnome racist too.

Cameron: Fuck. I can’t get out.

Just pull up the grass, if it’s seriously in your way.

Cameron: I can’t. I get hives when I touch this stuff. It’s like I’m Magneto, in that plastic prison from the second X-Men movie, only there’s no hot naked blue chick to save me.

Mmm… I’ll be back in a bit, I need to go do some Google image searches.

Green energy initiatives, right where they belong.

In fiction.

You can’t design an abomination like this. You have to live it.

God, remind me to find my main house from Autumn Heights for you sometime. I still have nightmares about getting lost in it.

Amin: .oO(I think I should put a desk on the ceiling.)

Cameron: I think you should put your balls against my crotch.

Andrew: I like the way you think!

Cameron: This is a jailbreak. Keep your heads low and your mouths shut.

Cameron: Evening, Kent.
Kent: Evening, Mrs. Price-Murphy.
Andrew: Kent.
Kent: Mr. Murphy.
Andrew: Go home.

Aw, can we at least talk about this? Once they’re toddlers they’re too big to fit in the barbecue.

Cameron: Are you ready to age into your hideous Price genetics?
Angelica: It can’t be any worse than shitting in cloth underwear.

Oh, I dunno…

Amin: Your traditions are stupid but this thing makes funny noises!

Just think, Angelica, soon you’ll look like a stylized human instead of a cartoon character.

Andrew: Just think, Nathaniel, you’ll both probably survive to adulthood! In my day we didn’t have birthdays, we had to spend all of our money on funerals for my three brothers, my two sisters, and my dad. And the rest went toward flowers for the rest of the neighbourhood. Because most of them died too.
Nathaniel: .oO(I think we should reconsider that whole “going back into the womb” thing.)

I think we should, too. For all our sakes.

Nathaniel: Help! -kaff- I have no teeth! -hack- It’s all going down my throat! -hurk-

And you can’t talk!

Nathaniel: -gurg-

Cameron: Sorry kid, but it’s back on the floor for you.
Angelica: .oO(You can’t seriously leave me looking like this.)

Yeah, seriously. I’m not looking at that shit for the next half hour.

That one turned out okay, though.

Andrew: Except he doesn’t look at all like either of us.

No, that’s exactly what I meant.

Angelica: .oO(Pigtails? You know what pigtails are for? They’re for porn, and nothing else.)

Babies sleep on floor now.

Nathaniel: .oO(Sandbox!)

No, that’s carpet.

Nathaniel: .oO(Crap textures!)


Amin: I don’t want to alarm you, but… an entire… back of the house, I guess, just appeared. Behind you.
Andrew: Suddenly-appearing house backs are just an urban legend, Bigfoot.

I guess it’s an establishing shot? Because if I was trying to imply this is something special, then my standards were pretty low back then.

Nathaniel: .oO(I can’t talk!)
Angelica: .oO(We have a psychic link, remember? Because we’re twins)
Nathaniel: .oO(Oh no, she’s already a ventriloquist! And I can’t even talk!)

Nathaniel: .oO(I wuv you, Angewica!)
Angelica: .oO(Trust life to give me a psychic link with someone who lisps in their brain.)

Angelica: .oO(Do you hear that, Nathaniel? I think that’s Beethoven.)

Nathaniel: .oO(Wow! I didn’t know doggies could play music!)

I hear radioactive babies draw the best pictures.

Cameron: And that’s how you go poopy without wrecking your clothes.
Angelica: .oO(It’s a good temporary system, until daddy can science a way to not poop at all.)

Cameron: So if you use the potty, mommy doesn’t have to keep you in diapers!
Nathaniel: .oO(I’m sure there’s something in this for me, but I can’t figure out what it is.)

Angelica: .oO(This table is stupid. Crayons are too consistent for drip painting, and too blunt for pointillism.)

Cameron: .oO(This kid is stupid. How hard is it to learn how to shit in a pot?)

Cameron: .oO(Apparently, exactly that hard.)

Nathaniel: .oO(I have a new favourite thing!)

Cameron: Sorry kid, the thrill just isn’t there for me anymore. You teach one kid to shit, you’ve taught them all.
Angelica: .oO(I wouldn’t want to see you test that theory. The results would probably be messy.)

Nathaniel: .oO(Dwawing!)
Angelica: .oO(No. I’m drawing. You’re… you’re just rubbing that crayon on the paper. You’ve got no authorial intent. Heck, you’ve hardly got any mechanical skill.)
Nathaniel: -hurk-
Angelica: .oO(And now you’re choking on the crayon.)
Nathaniel: -hurk-

Cameron: I don’t think my sister and I were that stupid when we were toddlers.

No, you’re right.

You saved it up for university.

Like most girls.

Nathaniel: .oO(What the hell was that supposed to mean?)
Angelica: .oO(I don’t know, this gurgling and mumbling shit is seriously pissing me off.)

Angelica: .oO(Nathaniel? You still awake?)
Nathaniel: .oO(I I think so?)
Angelica: .oO(I was hoping to run some thought experiments by you.)
Nathaniel: .oO(My poop smelled funny. Did your poop smell funny?)



I can already tell you’re going to grow into a fine figure of a man, Angelica.

As for you, I’m thinking tragic car accident. But we’ll see.


Andrew: Reflecting. I had to have sex with three girl Frankensteins today.

Wow, pretty slow week at the mad science complex, huh?

Andrew: Thought we’d at least have some girl Teen Wolves, but there’s been too much cloud cover.

Andrew: Hi honey!
Cameron: There’s some rotten flesh on your face.

Cameron: I know a topic I shouldn’t pursue when I hear it.

You know, I forget what your actual face looks like?

Andrew: Pretty much the same as Kyle’s.

Yeah, but Kyle’s been dead for, like, decades.

Andrew: Well, it’s sort of a slimmer version of Oliver’s.

Hm. See above.

Andrew: Actually, I look pretty much identical to Franklin.

Man, your family is made of dead, huh?

You’re like the Kennedys, only less inbred.

Andrew: So yeah, we had to steal them from the Centreborough morgue because the cops seem to think you need a real medical license to get access to cadavers.
Cameron: Fascists.

Andrew: Did we just have sex? I must have passed out.
Cameron: If you did, it sure as hell wasn’t from exertion.

Cameron: Where are you going.
Andrew: I wanna go again. I didn’t hear the chimes.
Cameron: Why did you expect to hear the chimes? Are we having another kid?
Andrew: Everybody else is doing it.
Cameron: If everybody else jumped off a bridge, would you?
Andrew: I was gonna reply with “if everybody else turned into a brain-eating zombie, would you?” but WE ALREADY KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT ONE, DON’T WE.

Cameron: Look at you, Mr. Smooth Talker.
Andrew: Hey, I’m pretty suave. I have at least two mistresses.

Cameron: I’ll give you a second to let what you just said to me sink in.

Andrew: Yeah, not sure what I was thinking, really.

Me either, but I know what I’m thinking: I’m thinking we’re done here. Next week: people who died a long time ago come home from university. But it’s not as bad as last time that happened.


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