The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Seventy-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.

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Bet you thought I was going to disappear again.

Perhaps it would have been better to.


Lora: KISSING MAKES ME SO MAD

I can’t fault you for that, I’ve seen what you have to kiss.

Lora: Hewwo Wance! Do you wuv your mommy? Do you? Because she wuvs you! Yes she does! Yes she doessss!

Daryl: Hello, Lewis. Do you hate your mommy? Do you? Because she’s a condescending bitch! Yes she is! Yes she issss!
Lora: IF YOU’RE GONNA TURN THEM AGAINST ME AT LEAST DO IT WITH BABY TALK

Daryl: Fine, whatever. You handle this.

Daryl: I’m gonna go watch TV.

Kitty: There’s never a good hailstorm when you need one.

I don’t know how you’d even eat an omelette that way.

Lora: I won’t compromise my ideology for material considerations!

Daryl: If I get the extra-large bags, I wonder if Mr. Price will let me put his wife out with the rest of the trash.

Ask him soon, okay?

Like… really soon.

Daryl: Calm down, kid. I’m just gonna suck your soul out through your ear, and absorb your powers. Then you won’t need to cry ever again.

Desultory.

I appreciate your attention to details, Daryl. I really do.

But sometimes I wish you’d take a macro view of things.

Daryl: Hey there, little man! I didn’t know you used cologne!

Daryl: Or is it a new kind of soap you’re using? A new shampoo? Did you start burning incense in your crib when I wasn’t looking? Did you get an oil massage?

Daryl: DID YOU SHIT YOURSELF

Daryl: Just wriggle it out on the carpet, I’ll torch the whole room when you’re done.

There aren’t any rogue secret agents here.

Theresa: There could be. They have a butler.

A useless butler.

Theresa: Exactly! Secret agenting doesn’t exactly synergize with potty training and bottle warming, you know.

Lora: I’ve got an idea. Leave my babies alone forever, and I won’t tell my husband to fire you.
Daryl: Oh my god! I totally didn’t think this would work. I should write a book.

Lora: Alright, now. Let’s do this bitch right.

Lora: …or I could go downstairs and stare at the walls.

Daryl: HOW DID SHE GET CRUMBS IN THERE THROUGH A CLOSED DOOR

Daryl: It’s times like these I wish I was a rogue secret agent.

Sorry Nancy. Close, but no brains.

The Gray Lady of SimCity: I resent that.

Yup, nothing suspicious here.

Dude: Watch out! Foxy chick at fox-o’clock!

No, this is Price o’clock. Fox o’clock used to be just down the road, but now it’s Fox-Murphy o’clock.

And no, I just don’t give a fuck what this guy’s name is right now.

Dude: Alright Dude, you’ve got this! First you snap your fingers, then a flash mob appears and snaps their fingers, and then you get the girl!

Dude: And then one of you dies. Goddammit, West Side Story!

Daryl: You got this?
The Grim Reaper: I GOT THIS.

Stinky Skunk: .oO(A Dream Date flower border? P-U.)

Lora: What kind of a loser has a plaque about how good he is at games?

Lora: That’s like saying “Look at me, I’m eighty pounds overweight and I can’t climb stairs! AHAHAHAHA!

Lora: Whew. I need to sit down.

Daryl: I hate fluidics!

Bradley: Jesus Christ, when did it get so cold out here?

Doesn’t that thing provide any insulation?

Bradley: Mostly it just provides unexpected electric shocks. I spilled Red Bull all over it one night when I was playing World of Warcraft.

Alvin: Science!
Daryl: Keep it to yourself.

Bradley: Hoo baby! We were meant to be together!

Bradley: On a couch.

Lora: Hard day at work, honey?
Bradley: I designed some new downloadable content for Assassin’s Creed 4. It’s a what-if scenario: what if people actually gave a shit about Brazil?

Aaaaaand the joke’s already outdated. That was fast.

Bradley: Mmm… mmmmmm… mmm… mmm? How come your arm tastes like cereal?

Lora: I love it when you tell me about things I was present for. It really makes me feel memorable.

Bradley: Mmmf! Hey, back up, I can’t see your awesome tits now.
Lora: You’d rather ogle me than kiss me?!
Bradley: Are you kidding? Your mouth tastes like fifty omelettes. What have you been doing all day?!

Bradley: Oh, heyyy. There you are. I’ve missed you fellas.
Lora: They were only out of sight for a moment.
Bradley: Yeah, but some bitch was droning on and on the whole time and if felt like a lifetime.

Bradley: HELP HELP MY MOUSTACHE IS RECEDING

Bradley: …that was weird.

Lora: OWWWWW MY ARM IS THROUGH THIS WALLLLLL

Bradley: Aww! You’re singing our song!

Bradley: YOUR HAAAAAAAAIR IS IN THE WAYYYYYY OF YOUR TIIIIIIIITS

Lora: Let’s get you out of that suit and into something more comfortable, honey. Like my vagina.
Bradley: Okay, but give me an hour. This thing has no zipper. Solvents are involved.

Right, dead of winter, perfect time to trim the hedges.

Daryl: Anything to avoid being inside with those people.

Why do you think I’m out here with you?

You’ve still got the gloves on, eh, Brad.

Bradley: They can produce mild electrical shocks. I’m going to put them in her-

YOU STILL OUT THERE DARYL I’M COMING BACK

Dude. Don’t step on the flowers? Are you new or something?

Daryl: Try not putting fragile plants right in front of plants that need constant year-round maintenance? Are you new or something? And anyway don’t you work at a garden centre?

That’s irrelevant. It’s only part-time, and our plants all die before they’d need trimming.

Lora: So I cheated on you.
Bradley: Understandable.
Lora: I’ll probably do it again.
Bradley: Naturally!

Daryl: Two babes disgorged in their cribs, and I…

Daryl: …I left them there, to fucking die.

Bradley: …whose turn is it to call the agency this time?

To be honest, this is exactly what I always imagined government employees did every day.

Minus the groping their sisters bit.

No, wait, never mind. Totally.

William: Mm. Daisy, I feel like we were meant to be together.
Daisy: You know what they say, blood is thicker than water.

William: I’m gonna go home before I figure out what you meant by that.

Daisy: Time for some phat pregnant beats!

Daisy: Meaty, beaty, big and bouncy!

Daisy: Man, I could get a Vegas show doing this!

Or a porn shoot.

Daisy: Same difference!

Poppy: OH MY GOD DAISY THIS SHIT MAKES THE UPSTAIRS DISAPPEAR!

Poppy: I wonder if it will work on my crippling emotional issues too.

…man, have I been blowing bubbles?

Actually no. I don’t want this to be the kind of thing my subconscious dreams up.

I know this looks like a random image. But it’s not.

It’s a random joke setup.

Caryl Love: Heyyyy man, you wanna take a cruise on the Caryl Love Boat?
William: Only if it’s got a Caryl Life Boat.

Little bit of overkill, don’t you think?

William: Thankfully, I have a license to overkill!

Daisy: Aren’t you one of those lesbians? I’m not the lesbian one.

Daisy: I’ll pass you over to the lesbian. We can have a lesbian conference call. Except with one of us not being a lesbian. It’s an LGBT-friendly conference call.

Daisy: Hey, whoah, but it’s not LGBTI friendly! The “I” being for “incest.” Although that’s complicated. And I didn’t just say that. And I’ll kill you if you tell anyone. And I didn’t just say that either. But it’s totally true.

Poppy: It’s your own stupid fault, Kea, I told you not to call the house phone.

Sullivan: OH NO, HELLBOUND CUNT-KISSERS!

Daisy: I love a man who knows when to jump to x-rated!

Sullivan: You need x-rated vision to look at the shit you fuckers throw out. Is that a penis? It looks like a penis.

Hey, it’s a trash compactor. And Daisy takes a very liberal view on what constitutes “trash.”

Sullivan: Well I have a very conservative view of SPARKS ON MY FAAAAACE

Daisy: Look, you don’t recognize me, but we had nasty December-February sex once when I was a different person. And it turns out when I’m pregnant I just get weird old man penis cravings. So, you wanna do it on the table? I can hang from the chandelier and you can polish your glasses on my pubic hair.

Sullivan: That sounds like a great idea! I’d love to have a girlfriend!

Sullivan: In the refrigerator.

What, is there a sign on my house that says “Live Lesbian Storage”?

Poppy: Hey Sullivan! What’s cookin’? Tuna? Salmon?
Sullivan: Salmonella.

Sullivan: I’m sure I’d remember having raped someone that ugly.

Sullivan: And I’m sure I’d have killed them afterward, too.

Sullivan: Get the fuck out. I’ve got cleaning to do.
Daisy: Nothing in this room needs cleaning.

Sullivan: And that is the only cleaning I’m willing to do.

Sullivan: Unless you’ve got some lye soap and some bodies to dissolve. Or just the lye soap, but I charge ten-fifty per body if I have to bring my own from home.

Random running joke!

Except she’s standing still.

Pictured: more interesting things we could be looking at.

Pictured: what we’re looking at instead.

Poppy: Corporate taxes!
Kea: Equal pay for equal work!

Man, you guys really are stoned.

I bet you imagine each log is, like, a severed body part or something.

Daisy: I prefer not to leave anything to the imagination.

Daisy: I love the little blue flame you get when the formaldehyde coating burns off!

Daisy: It’s not roasting in the fires of a well-earned damnation, but it’ll do for now.

Nothing says “cozy” like melting a three-hundred-Simoleon videogame console.

Kea: Do you believe in ghosts, Poppy?
Poppy: Are you kidding? The demographics are so lopsided now, you should be asking ghosts if they believe in us.

Kea: HAHAHA we should fry your sister’s unborn child.

Poppy: Oh, would you look at the time! It’s “for you to go.”

I never figured you for a conformist, Sullivan.

Sullivan: I pretend they’re people’s arms, flailing about as they drown. And then I cut them off.

Presumably while cackling.

Sullivan: Of course not. I’m no monster…

Sullivan: …but I’d totally stomp that little bitch’s Tokyo. By which I mean her va-

OH LOOK AT THAT WE’RE ALMOST OUT OF TIME

Elle: Why did he want to stomp my Vanilla Ice albums?

Who wouldn’t?

Alright, that was not any fun. Next time…um… fun?

I’m not putting any money on it, though.

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