The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Seventy

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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Another day, another whatever this is.

Time to get rid of those embarassing old duds.

And buy some embarassing new ones.

Nawwaf: Oh ho! Sexy lady hell-o!

Ember: More like hell-no.

Uma: I just realized, we’re going to be doing this job forever.

Uma: I’m a sixty-year-old woman, for fuck’s sake!

Ember: Trying on new clothes would be a lot easier with some company for the changing booth.

Well, even if your standards are low enough for these dudes, mine aren’t.

Hell, you banged that dude a long time ago, didn’t you?

Jessie: I’m surprised you recognized me.

There aren’t a lot of dudes walking around with black football paint on their faces, dude.

…I stand corrected.

Jessie: Any time you’re available, baby, if you know what I mean.
Ember: Do you know what you mean?
Jessie: I used to, but my memory’s no good anymore. What do I mean?

Hm, how about that dapper-looking gentleman? He looks like he has good taste.

Once again, forget I said anything.

Ember: What have you done? What am I wearing? I look like a married woman.

You’re engaged to be married.

Ember: Yeah, but that just makes dudes want to bang you! When you’re actually married they just want your recipe for apricot crumble, because their wives asked them to get it. I don’t even have a recipe for apricot crumble!

It must be terrible for you, becoming an adult. Ninety years after you were born.

Look on the bright side, though. Most ninety-year-olds can’t turn heads the way you can.

Case in point.

Bradley turns heads for entirely different reasons.

Brooke: Can you hurry up, ma’am? I’m late for my not-getting-eaten-by-a-zombie break.

Uma: What are you doing.
Shane Baena: Making an offering to the hot lady goddess.
Uma: Because it looks like you’re dumping a dirty plate on our sales counter.
Shane: Oh, ye of little faith.

Autumn: .oO(Booooooo. Lawwwwwyerrrrrrrsssss.)

Amar: Is this where the hot lady goddess offerings go?

George Hamilton: Hey! Hey, over here! Hey, little girl! Over here!

That is a zombie, George.

George: And this is a receding hairline. Pedophile beggars can’t be pedophile choosers.

Autumn: Braiiiins?

Autumn: Meh. Pedophile brains. Hottttdoggggs!

There’s not much I can do to Ember to make her look unattractive.

Unless you don’t like redheads.

But insane people are already pretty hard to please, so.

The dead ex-girlfriend in the concrete urn is a nice decorative touch.

Ally: Nothing but the best for my what was her name.

What exactly are your qualifications for doing that?

Ember: I have a law degree.

That’s not a good reason to think you can repair a computer.

Ember: Well, what exactly are this image’s qualifications for making it into the update?

The way your nose looks from the side, and your cute little overbite.

Ember: And you want to talk to me about poor justifications.

No, I want to stare at your nose and your cute little overbite. This bullshit conversation is entirely your fault.

Now shut up and pout.

Ally: Stephen says he wants to make a sculpture of me.
Ember: A tasteful nude, I’m guessing.
Ally: Actually, no. It’s a group sculpture, where I’m giving him a blowjob.
Ember: You know, that was almost my first guess.

What are you doing here?

Alvin: Welcome Wagon.

Right. Where you try to introduce new arrivals to the warm and welcoming atmosphere of the neighbourhood.

Which brings me back to my question: what are you doing here?

Lucas: Why we brought science cowboy? Are there women here, for science cowboy to steal with his science cowboy charms?
Kitty: You’re just mad that we turned your girlfriend into a zombie.

Ally: Hey, I’m Ally.
Alvin: Hi, I’m-
Lucas: ENEMY.

Kitty: What do you want? I already paid you.
Felicia: Just checking in. I like to follow up with my clients, see if they need anything.
Kitty: Like what?
Felicia: Like eyeglasses. You’re seriously sticking with Wyatt Durp here?

Kitty: He’s not so bad. Lucas has the looks, but Alvin’s definitely got the brains.

Ally: So, Felicia is it?
Felicia: It certainly is.
Ally: Implying that you’re… lucky?
Felicia: More that I help other people get lucky.

Ally: I’m guessing that other chick didn’t pay you enough, then.

Felicia: Wow, I didn’t know being a maid paid so well.
Ally: It doesn’t. Having small fingers and knowing where your boss socks away his money, however…

Ally: You’re joking.
Ally: You can’t be serious.


Gerold Kim: Hey. I’m Gerold. We haven’t met. And you are…?
Ally: Ally Ternynck. I made this old woman drop you out of the sky.

Gerold: Excellent. I think I have all I need for the police report now.

Good luck with that. The police are pretty busy, what with all these serial-kickers on the loose.

Ally: I’ll make you a counteroffer. Don’t tell anyone I gypsy kidnapped you, and I’ll let you go on a date with me.
Gerold: See this shirt? Does it look like I swing that way?
Ally: No gay dude would be caught dead in that shirt. It takes a real heterosexual to have taste that terrible.

Ember: Man. It totally does, too.

Gerold: So Ally, tell me more about yourself!
Gerold: …so Ally, tell me less about yourself!

Kitty: Oh, Lucas… I’m so sorry… you’re just so irresistible. Can we work this out?
Lucas: Yes. We can working this out. If by “we” you are meaning Lucas Perez and the ivory-clad love lawyer, and by “working this out” you mean the two of us are sexing and you are dead.

Ally: I dropped out of college to be a maid.
Gerold: What a coincidence, I dropped out of the sky to be your date.
Ally: Oh, get over it already. Lots of dudes would be thrilled to have the opportunity you’re getting right now.
Gerold: Yeah, but most of them won’t need spinal surgery tomorrow.

Kitty: We’re a couple!

So why are you sitting so far apart?

Kitty: Because he stinks.

Felicia: Just checking in. Seems like it’s going well!
Ally: How can you tell?
Felicia: I can see the date plumbbob, and it’s blue.

Yeah, it was too far down in the image to crop.

This is a bad idea. I won’t even get the momentary hope that your kids won’t turn out Maxis.

Ally: You’re starting to sound really racist, you know.

I’m not racist. I’m texturist.

I’m a custom content supremacist.

I’m like Hitler if he’d actually gotten into art school.

Ally: The peekaboo window is nice, but it needs more chest hair.
Distant Voices: Love!

What’s that, Lucas? Did you say something gross that’s still more interesting than what’s going on out here? Just a second, let me forget these two forever and we can find out.

Aww. You’re a maid match maid in heaven.

Alvin: Violence!
Ember: You have such a strange accent!

It’s like somebody tried to combine two different Harlequin Romance novels.

And the result was somehow worse than either of them.

Alvin: Hey, your maid is making out with some gay dude!
Ember: It’s probably another woman with a short haircut. My maid is a lesbian.
Alvin: If that’s not a dude, she should be wearing a breast cancer bracelet.

As opposed to a… doily bracelet?


The maids making out reminds you of how Kitty cheated on you?

Lucas: NO! Have you forgotten? All women belong to Lucas Perez! Sexy cheerleader maid is cheating on him!

You should go explain it to her. She’s really good at dealing with monsters.

Lucas: Mmmmm. Is smelling lovely, chiquita. Imagine how it will smell, when it is coming back out of you!

Ember: …well. I was hungry.

Ember: Meh, screw it.
Lucas: Is too thin and soupy to screw. Perhaps once it has been hardened by your bowels, perhaps then Lucas Perez might screw it.
Ember: Okay, no, definitely not eating now. Ever again.

Ally: Okay, so you know Ember?
Gerold: No. I’ve just now been initialized, in fact.

Ally: Okay well Ember, she started a fire!

No. That was you.

Ally: Nope, sorry, maids don’t get agency.

Ally: Who’s that?
Stephen: That is a brick vagina wall.
Caryl: I told you, I don’t have sex with strangers.

Gerold: Hey! Wow! Can I get your autograph? I loved you in “Secret Window”!

Stephen: Oh. I see we’ve got a breeding pair now.

Stephen: I wonder how much a newborn maid is worth.

Stephen: Hey hot mama, I’m who the fuck is this?
Lucas: Is an Indian name?

Ember: HELP ME.

Gerold: What’s this?
Ally: It’s a potion. Drink it and tell it to make you think I’m hot.

Gerold: Weirder living through weird science!

Ember: Haha, your shoes have little points on them! Does it make you feel like a cowboy, Lucas?
Lucas: Is not for make feel like cowboy. Is for putting holes in science cowboy’s head.
Ember: Every time I think “this dude needs subtitles” I immediately follow it up with “but then you might understand what he’s saying.

Caryl: Which way’s the FUCK EMBER
Kitty: Oh Alvin, I’m so glad we’re FUCK EMBER
Alvin: Oh Kitty, before I met you I was FUCK EMBER
Lucas: I want to FUCK EMBER

No, Lucas, you’re doing it wrong.

Lucas: Clearly, because I am not yet FUCKING EMBER.

If it’s nine fifteen, I must be snogging!

Gerold: You shouldn’t sit down when you’re dressed like that.
Ally: Why?
Gerold: Because your… with the skirt… and the leggings…
Ally: It’s okay, I hear we’re all Barbie Doll underneath anyway.

Not while anything to say about it I have.

Caryl: -scoot- So heyyyyyyyy your wife’s in the bathroom.
Stephen: Shocking.

Caryl: -scoot- So heyyyyyyyy it’s pretty hot in here. Mind if I-

Gerold: Is this hell? Are we in hell?

Hell is other people.

Four of them.

On the couch with you.

It is written.

Ember: Okay! Get out! I’m trying to take a shit!
Lucas: Is whole reason I came in!

Alvin: Check it out!
Kitty: Oh yeah baby, work it work it!
Caryl: What say we go someplace a bit less… these people, and how gross they are.
Stephen: Only if it’s a bit less you, too.

Yeah, this is just getting stupid.

Caryl: Hi, Lucas!
Lucas: Greetings, hippie gentleman!

Ember: No, I wasn’t a cheerleader, but we all had to learn the stupid thing. Fada soola GOR! Fada soola BRON!
Lucas: Fada soola do it with no clothing on!

Ember: You have no idea how to talk to women, do you?
Lucas: Involves tongue somehow, I think. But tongue has much better applications on women.

Ember: Yeah, please leave. Ugly dudes only.

Alvin: That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me!

Ember: I have to admit, you’re growing on me. Like some gross anal infection.
Lucas: Is nicest thing ever said to me!

Ember: I keep expecting you to have gross moles or something all over your back.
Lucas: With gross, is better in than out.

Ember: Shall we bathroom dance?
Lucas: Can we bathroom fuck insteads?
Ember: Only if you bathroom stop being so misogynist.

Lucas: Your liver spots are appealing, chiquita.
Ember: Freckles, Lucas.
Lucas: Is nice to meet you, Freckles. Why you have a name? Liver spots are usually anonymous.

Ally: I can’t believe I’m gonna have sex with a dude.

Yeah, because that’s so rare in this journal.

Ally: No, I mean… I’m a lesbian. About to have sex. With a dude.

Yeah, because that’s so rare in internet fiction.

Still, there are some elements of novelty here.

Caryl: So, how does it feel? Being a real character?
Alvin: It feels like you’re not worth talking to anymore.

Ember: You’re a lot uglier up close, you know.
Lucas: Take some for yourself, chiquita, and we may compare and then bump our uglies.

Ember: I’m a sucker for what-the-fuck cases.

Ember: But yeah, go home.
Lucas: Why I am going home? Why we are not lovemaking?
Ember: Because this household is boring as fuck and I want to move on. Hey, I didn’t mean to say that. Why did I say that?

I’m practicing my ventrioloquism.

Ember: Well, I plan to start practicing my skin flute.

Gerold: There’s a ghost cow behind me.
Ally: I did tell you about that.
Gerold: Yes, in all fairness, you did. I didn’t believe you, though, because, in all fairness, GHOST COW?!

Ally and Gerold: Ghost cow go home!

Ally: Hahah! Oh, Ghost Cow! You card.

Ally: But yeah, seriously, take a hike.
Elise: I’m gonna possess you both and HATEFUCK MYSELF.

Stephen: No, seriously! This big, Abigail told me.
Ember: How does it fit in his pants?
Stephen: Presumably he shops at the same stores as the Incredible Hulk.

Ally: Ready to rock n’ roll, Ger?
Gerold: Yeah! Oh, thank god. I know how to rock n’ roll. I thought we were gonna have sex, and I have no clue about that.

Stephen: If I catch him over here, I’m gonna snap his dick off.
Ember: I thought we had an open relationship.
Stephen: We do. But if you include Lucas Perez in it, he’s getting an open wound.

Ember: You know, Stephen, most people reach this level of chauvinism before the end of their first lifetime.
Stephen: Well, I’m an artist. I know you can’t rush perfection.

Stephen: But I love to rush vaginas!

I need to stop collecting Townies.

They only depreciate.

Ember: You’re pretty good in bed, for a MERE MORTAL

Stephen: Have you been selling your soul to the devil again?

Ember: Don’t be silly. I’ve been selling him my body. It’s worth a lot more.

Stephen: I’m not sure I want to turn my back on you.
Ember: Would you rather turn your genitals on me?

Stephen: Good point.

He’s too boring. I’m gonna kill him.

Ally: At least let him get me pregnant first.

Why would I want him to pass those genes on? I can barely stand toddlers with good genes.



Try not to make a habit of this. It might make you look adorable, but it also might increase your chances of catching fire, or disease, or a satellite.

Gerold: Is he talking about killing me?
Ally: You don’t know him. That’s all he ever talks about.

Ally: My maid sense is tingling, warning me of butlers!

Ally: Fucker’s not getting my SSP.

What’s SSP?

Ally: Service Sim Points. You get them from doing Service Sim jobs. And then you can spend them on raid loot.

I think you’re getting… a lot of things confused.

Ally: You won’t say that when I’m wearing my Tier 12 French Dress.

Daryl: Did you talk to the bitch about not stealing my garbage duties?

She thinks she’s collecting points for tier sets.

Daryl: That’s stupid. You only get SSP from higher-level raids, like feeding babies and making beds.

Stephen: The jokes are getting worse.
Ember: Some of them. I’ve heard a few good ones.
Stephen: They don’t always make up for the bad ones, though.
Ember: Don’t make a fuss. Us bad ones gotta stick together.

Stephen: So, wanna stick together?
Ember: Not now, I have a headache.

Ember: …you’re right. They are getting worse.

Oh yeah? Well so are your standards.

Daryl: I don’t WANNA be sexy.

You have nothing to worry about.

Next time: an actual plot begins to develop. Remember when we used to have those? It was around the time when you all had things to say after reading the chapters.

I’m so lonely.

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