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. and usually on Tuesdays!
Don’t miss this chapter!
This is a plot-heavy one.
By which I mean there’s sex and death.
“Plot” being my code-word for “good.”
And now, from the desktop of William Sharpe, Chief of the SimNational Central Intelligence Agency…
Yup. I’m amazing. You don’t need to tell me, I already know.
I dunno Mel, I think maybe you should just starve. I’m not sure I want to see what kind of hellspawn results from combining you and William.
William: At least there’s no chance the baby will be Maxis. She’s got a custom skintone.
Yeah, but it’s the one with the lousy-looking nipples. And that’s a seriously important consideration, what with the content of this journal.
Melanie: Dear Diary: So there I sat, at the bottom of the stairs, in the fucking way.
Nice new façade.
William: You know us secret agents, we’re all about the façades.
Where does the hidden staircase go, I hear you asking?
…okay, between those two half-walls. That’s a hidden staircase. You see it? Okay.
Where does it go, I hear you asking again? Stop repeating yourself! You’ll see soon enough.
William: Man, I love the taxpayer’s dime!
Kitty: But how come postal carriers have to walk?
Because secret agents are slightly more likely to go nuts and shoot someone if they don’t get what they want.
Kitty: Oh yeah? Because I’ve never heard of anyone “going secret agent.”
Well of course not.
They do it in secret.
Melanie: So this is what normal people do for fun? It lacks a certain… goriness.
Melanie: Well hello there, Mr. Reiner. Remember that offer you made at the Trendy Tailor? I was thinking you might want to come over jiggle my pregnant gut.
Only a true villain would be tempted by that.
Congratulations, Peter! You’ve just been promoted to primary antagonist.
Kitty: Is there a pregnant woman living here? I want to talk about gross pregnant woman stuff with her.
Kitty: I wouldn’t know, nobody ever talks to me.
Kitty: Maybe if you stopped bringing them bills?
Kitty: Maybe if you weren’t all slovenly parasites?
MAYBE NO MORE KITTY TALK
Melanie: Off my lot, you slovenly parasite!
Andrew Seiff: Well I don’t think you’re slovenly, Kitty.
Kitty: Come back when you’re a real character, Andrew.
Peter: What are they talking about back there?
Melanie: Boring fake people stuff.
Melanie: Does this biker jacket come off?
Peter: Only if you know the passcode. Otherwise the dynamite in the seams explodes.
Melanie: I’ve been developing a rating system for my former zombie underlings. For example, Yusun was a one.
Peter: Out of ten?
Melanie: No, it’s the number of times I had to attack her before she turned into a zombie. I’m not sure it’s a good system, though, because everybody ends up being a one.
Peter: I’d forgotten how badass and evil you are. Thank you.
Melanie: It’s the baby bump, it confuses everybody.
Melanie: But I hear you’re becoming quite the badass yourself, Peter. Machinegunning secret agents in the basement, and resurrecting serial killers.
Peter: Yeah, I’m pretty awesome. But how did you know about that last part? Nobody else has recognized Vicki yet!
Melanie: I used to be the papergirl. I recognize everybody.
Peter: What’ll it cost to buy your silence?
Melanie: Whatever you’ve got in your pockets, and they sure feel full.
Melanie: I’m referring to your penis.
Peter: I worked that one out for myself.
Melanie: Sorry, I’m new to this whole “humour” thing. Zombies mostly skip foreplay and go straight for the jugular, by which I mean the actual jugular.
Peter: I got that one too, but thanks.
Peter: Wait a second. Is William home?
Melanie: What, is the big bad secret agent afraid of my daft little husband?
Peter: Are you fucking kidding me? Your daft little husband could shoot an army dead with one hand while using the other to club a bear to death with his penis!
Peter: Oh god, this is a trap, isn’t it?! You got pregnant just to lure me here, because you know I fantasize about putting my dick near William’s baby!
Melanie: I didn’t know that, you fool, and frankly I kind of wish you hadn’t told me.
Melanie: Anyway look, William’s at work! He’ll be there for hours, he’s got all these meetings. Apparently the SCIA shot like fifty zombies in Lakeland.
Peter: What’s wrong with that?
Melanie: It was a youth production of Thriller.
Peter: …heh heh. That’s pretty funny, actually.
Melanie: In a dark sort of way.
Peter: What’s dark about it? Dead teenagers! Dead Michael Jackson fans! It’s a win for everybody.
Peter: Especially for me, because I am a winner of boobs.
Melanie: We can move into the next room if you like. That way if you hear William coming in, you can pull my huge pregnant body in front of you like a shield while you fire off hipshots one-handed.
Peter: Geez, I almost hope that happens now, it sounds amazing.
I’d watch out, girl, you don’t want to get a drive-by cootering.
Peter: These pictures are hideous. Who are these people?
Melanie: William’s parents. They had a troubled honeymoon.
Peter: It makes sense that William would come from a broken home.
Melanie: What doesn’t make sense is why he made us move back into it.
Peter: Wait, are you telling me you’re cheating on William with me in the house where he grew up?! Did Chelsea slip you my little black book? Is this my birthday present?!
Melanie: Of course not. Chelsea wouldn’t get you a girl for your birthday. She’s smart enough to know that adultery is no fun with permission.
William: Well? How’s it going?
They’re necking in the living room.
William: Awesome! I’ll wait a bit, and then commence Phase Two.
You’re not at all worried about having your wife make out with your nemesis?
William: First of all, Cecilia is my nemesis. And second of all, my wife is my runner-up nemesis. And third of all, she knows her face is goofy and nobody else would want her. I feel pretty safe.
Yeah, because it’s totally Melanie’s face that keeps people away from her.
William: Try not to screw this up for me, rookie. You’re here in an observational capacity only. Watch and learn.
ALVIN?! ALVIN IS A SECRET AGENT?!
William: Of course, he’s perfect. Nobody would ever suspect him.
Alvin: I’m not sure this is the career for me, I’m just paying the bills until something Sciencer comes along. They turf you out of being the Iconic Hobbyist when you become a playable.
William: That’s too bad, I was hoping to be the Iconic Hobbyist for hot fucking.
Alvin: Hot fucking isn’t a real hobby.
William: Tell that to my DICK. That came out wrong, please don’t.
Alvin: So this is where his parents got married. I wonder what that was like?
You’ll probably never know. The only people who were actually paying attention are dead.
Alvin: There’s a church, like, right there. Why’d they get married here?
Victoria was a Fortune Sim. You know how they feel about strangers eating their food.
Alvin: Can we go in yet?
William: Wait a few minutes more, I want to make sure they’re really going at it first.
Alvin: Is your wife cute? Because if so, and if this is how you treat your enemies, I could go wreck your car or something.
Alvin: I hope that doesn’t affect my performance evaluation.
Melanie: How about some music, to set a romantic mood?
Peter: Unless you’ve got a tape recording of people screaming in agony, there’s not much that could turn me on more than I already am.
Melanie: Well today is your lucky day, because William brought home the SCIA tapes from when Cecilia shot up MNU.
Peter: Eight solid hours of college chicks dying? Let me borrow that, I’ve got some killer mixtapes to produce.
Melanie: He’s making puns.
I know, I’m sorry, just… just close your eyes, and think of the SimNation.
Melanie: You already made that joke in the Quiet Legacy.
So? Nobody reads both.
William: If I pull this off, I’m giving myself a huge bonus.
And a huge boner too, no doubt.
William: Death fetishes are a known side-effect of secret agenthood, I’m not ashamed.
No, there’s not a lot of shame going around today for some reason.
Alvin: Calling for backup, sir?
William: You could call it that.
William: She’ll be getting her back up, anyway.
William: Dammit Alvin! Don’t go down there!
Alvin: That’s a laganaphyllis simnovorii!
William: Is it? I thought it was just a cowplant.
Alvin: That’s the common name.
William: Oh, so you were using an uncommon name? Just to be pretentious, right. I keep forgetting you’re a scientist.
Alvin: These things, they… they eat people.
William: That’s a myth. They don’t eat people, unless you tell them to. They really just eat townies.
William: Come on, come on! Don’t you know your baseball signals?!
The cavalry is here!
Chelsea: I’m not a horse.
No, you’re not, but you’re something that sounds similar.
Chelsea: And proud of it!
She’s her mother‘s daughter, all right.
William: .oO(I hope I can claim this as overtime.)
Chelsea: .oO(I don’t think I’ve fucked that dude yet.)
You’re a credit to your Aspirations, guys.
Peter: I can’t believe you can bend like that, especially while you’re pregnant!
Melanie: That’s the thing about being dead, undead, and then not dead at all: you lose the rigor mortis and the rigor vitis!
Chelsea: Oh William… I’m such a sucker for a man in uniform.
William: If I recall correctly, Chelsea, you’re a sucker on general principles.
Chelsea: I never heard you complaining.
Melanie: Alright, how about some real music. I’m a big fan of “Hail to the Chief,” hope you don’t mind.
William: That’s my cue!
Melanie: Kiss me, you fool!
Peter: That’s twice you’ve fooled me!
William: Well shame on you then.
Chelsea: …what the fuck are they doing?
William: Look up, your headlines have already got it figured out.
Peter: Why do I get the feeling I’ve been set up?
Melanie: Maybe because you’re about to get knocked down.
Melanie: But it was fun while it lasted, big boy. I’d give you some pointers on kissing, but I don’t think you’ll need them when you’re sucking the devil’s cock in hell.
Chelsea: How am I supposed to follow that up? That was bad ass!
William: Don’t feel too bad. She used to be the villain, she’s good at those one-liners.
Melanie: Alright, knight in shining armour. Maybe get your lance out before this dude starts breathing fire on me?
Peter: I seriously hope you’re not talking about his penis again.
William: I think maybe our guest wants to say a few words first.
Chelsea: I do, but even our foul-mouthed narrator doesn’t want to type them out.
Chelsea: You’re cheating on ME? On ME?! With HER?!?! I knew you were a douchebag when I saw that facial hair, but I thought the mirrored sunglasses were ironic!
Peter: Wait! Wait a second! She tricked me!
Chelsea: Oh, she tricked you, did she? I guess you thought maybe there were some stranded orphans lost down her gullet, and you were trying to suck them out with your lungs?
Melanie: To be fair, I did eat a few orphans a while back.
Chelsea: I’m not turning a blind eye to your shit anymore, Peter! As far as I’m concerned, William can have you.
Peter: Please, I just want to make sure, nobody is talking about his penis, right?!
William: Well, let’s not be ridiculous. Somewhere, somebody is.
Chelsea: It’s a relief, really, because I was getting sick of your shit.
Peter: My shit? MY shit?!
Peter: Who’s gonna pay for your all your clothes, huh? And your jewellery, and your liquor? Who’s gonna pay for your cosmetic surgery, Lorraine?!
Chelsea: My name’s not Lorraine!
Peter: Sorry, I just really like that movie.
William: You guys take your time, I’m in no rush.
Peter: Man, I thought you were cool, but you’re just like all the rest. Weak.
Chelsea: Weak? WEAK? Hand me that rifle, William, I wanna show this fucker what I showed that goddamn cow.
William: Yeah, you probably should have gone to jail for that.
Peter: At least take off those fucking sunglasses! You look like a hooker from an episode of Miami Vice!
William: It’s pretty hot.
Alvin: Aww, come on, just one little moo?
William: Look, Chelsea. The doors are locked, he’s unarmed, and I’m a crack shot. Why rush this? I’m sure there’s LOTS more offensive stuff you’ve been wanting to tell him. I’ll just stand over here, and jerk off a bit maybe.
Chelsea: That’s so considerate of you!
Peter: Is he really a crack shot?
Chelsea: It once cost a dormie her eye when she walked in on us and he pulled out.
Chelsea: But yeah, William’s right! I do have some shit to clear up with you! First off: why did you pretend not to be a secret agent?
Peter: Because I’m not a secret agent! I’m a rogue agent! It’s like a secret agent, but angstier.
Chelsea: And why did you make me spend all that time with those weird science people at that weird science job just so I could get you that stupid plant?
Peter: That plant fucking eats people, Chelsea! There is nothing stupid about that plant!
Peter: So you expect me to believe you haven’t been seeing other dudes behind my back, do you?
Chelsea: I’m a Romance Sim, it’s fucking implied!
Peter: And I suppose it’s also implied that you’ll stay best friends with my archnemesis, and let him frame me as an adulterer so you won’t resurrect me when he kills me?
Chelsea: Not directly, but I never pretended to be reasonable.
Chelsea: Every woman has the right to be completely and utterly inscrutable, right?
Chelsea: And right now, for all I care, Peter can go inscrute himself.
Alvin: Hey, have you been throwing me the horns this whole time?! Man, botany is so metal!
Not as metal as geology!
Alvin: AHAHAHA SCIENCE JOKES!
Yeah, I feel dirty.
William: Come on, Chel. You know you want to kick his ass.
Chelsea: You don’t mind taking sloppy seconds?
William: I’m used to sloppy seconds with you. Or thirds. Or worse.
Peter: Can you seriously not just kill me now?
Chelsea: Believe me, I’d like to. Do you realize how badly you’ve fucked up my life?
Peter: That’s rich, coming from Ms. “Oh, I’m not a zombie, I just kiss really deeply.”
Chelsea: ONE KISS FROM ME IS WORTH BECOMING UNDEAD FOR. End of story.
Peter: I WASN’T A JERK UNTIL YOU RESURRECTED ME BADLY
William: Well no, you were always a jerk. Remember that time we toppled that dictator with a trick cigar?
Peter: NITROGLYCERIN IS REALLY HARD TO MEASURE OKAY
William: You took out the whole block!
Peter: WELL THEY SHOULDN’T HAVE BUILT SO MANY ORPHANAGES THERE OKAY
Peter: Help me out here, Melanie. I know that wasn’t all an act.
Melanie: Sorry, Peter. There’s two of them and only one of you. I might not be a great judge of character, but I’m terrific at math.
Peter: Once more then? For old times’ sake?
Melanie: Make it a short one, old times were only like five minutes ago.
Alvin: Man! What does a guy have to do to get himself eaten around here?!
Chelsea: Wow, it feels so good to be free! I’m almost giddy!
William: Well hunker down, girl, and giddy up!
Peter: I know you’ll do the right thing, Melanie.
Melanie: No great shakes at pattern recognition, are you, Peter?
William: Man, am I ever engaged to the wrong chick.
Chelsea: OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD
William: Shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to use the “e” word!
Chelsea: HELP I CAN’T BREATHE
Melanie: I think I’ll get out the tennis racquets, maybe that way she’ll play with your balls before you die.
Chelsea: Racquets? Where we’re going we won’t need… racquets.
Peter: WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP WITH THE SLAPPING
William: Nobody has to get me anything for my birthday this year!
Chelsea: The weird thing is, he’s still pretty hot.
Peter: Yeah baby, come on. You know we can work this out!
William: Oh, by the way. That woman pretending to be my sister? The one living in your basement? He was dating her too.
Chelsea: YOU’RE DEAD MEAT, SHITSTAIN
Peter: I do have to admire how you boxed me in, though.
Peter: FROM A PURELY TACTICAL STANDPOINT I MEAN
William: Fight! Fight! Winner gets fucked. Loser gets fucked too! I reserve the right to choose how the word is defined, though.
William: Meaning I’m gonna kill him and screw her.
Peter: WHY DO YOU FUCKERS HAVE TO EXPLAIN ALL YOUR JOKES
Chelsea: The only joke here is you, Peter, and it needs no explanation.
William: It is so hot how quickly you can do that.
Peter: Beaten! By a girl!
Chelsea: I found him! The last man who hadn’t heard about second-wave feminism!
Chelsea: And I kicked his ass.
William: I’m all about the feminism. I’m specifically interested in the vaginism variety.
Peter: Hey. I am standing right here. Have you no decency?
Chelsea: God, I sure hope not. I think I’m clean. Will?
William: Got rid of mine at university, just in time to save the world.
Peter: Man, fuck you guys.
Peter: And fuck your world.
Peter: And fuck I’m lonely.
Chelsea: So, aren’t you gonna kill him?
William: I was hoping he’d do it himself, it’s more sad and pathetic that way.
William: Hey Peter, come down here for a second. I’ve got something of yours.
Peter: Is it my self respect?
William: No, this thing is actually worth something.
Peter: You fucker! That’s my cowplant!
William: How could you tell?
Peter: Because you said so not five seconds ago?
William: Right, right, that makes sense.
William: There we go! Now that stick up your ass should be somewhere in your trachea.
William: You seriously thought you could best me? You just failed to beat up a fucking concert pianist, Peter.
Peter: I thought my fu would be sufficient, but it was not.
William: You were fu-lish to think so.
Peter: Oh, fuck off already.
William: You first.
Peter: Well. That’s that, then. I have nothing left to live for.
…right. Nothing. Yep.
Peter: So I guess he’s letting me choose between shooting myself and getting eaten by a carnivorous potted plant.
Not exactly Sophie’s Choice, but still hardly a pleasant decision.
William: I love Melanie’s early pregnant bedtime.
William: Took you long enough.
Chelsea: I had to powder my nose.
William: Well hurry up and get naked, I wanna be balls-deep when I hear that fucker croak.
William: MAN you’re good!
Peter: I can’t believe I lost.
God wasn’t on your side.
Peter: Yeah, you were a total shithead about it, won’t lie.
William: I sure have missed this particular vagina.
Chelsea: You can distinguish between them?
William: Yours, at least. It has this great groove, right where dicks go.
Chelsea: They do go there often.
William: I don’t blame them, it’s a great place to be! For dicks.
Peter: I suppose we’re done here.
Gonna have some cake?
Peter: I think it’s the other way around, isn’t it.
Yeah, it is.
The cake is a die.
William: He sure is taking his time.
Chelsea: Let him! Once he dies this won’t feel so naughty.
Peter: Time to dance into the fire.
By which you mean get eaten by a joke.
Peter: At least let me have the last word!
No dice. You’re not as good at it as I am.
Peter: I wonder if that’s supposed to be key lime or lemon meringue.
I’ll put that in your epitaph, shall I.
William: Ohhh ohhh OHHHHH THERE HE GOES THERE HE GOES THERE HE GOES!
Chelsea: And here I cum!
Cowplant: .oO(Bleccch, this tastes like failure.)
Suck it down.
Cowplant: .oO(I think I’m gonna be sick.)
I guess he can’t have been all hot air, there must have been some other gases in there too.
I’m not sure that was part of the plan.
Alas, poor Peter.
We knew him well. Too well.
Fucking asshole, he was.
I’m glad he’s dead.
Chelsea: Oh! Oh! OH OH OH OH FUCKING HELL WILLIAM YOU’RE GOING TOO FA-AAA-AAAST!
William: I can’t hel-el-elp it! The game is rushing me so I can laugh at your dead boyfriend!
Chelsea: You’re gonna force my clitoris into my stomach!
Chelsea: WHEW! So that was the most hilariously good sex I’ve ever had.
William: You’re definitely invited, next time I have to thwart someone.
William: Man… it’s good to be me.
Chelsea: All’s well that ends in my vagina.
Who said this was ending?
Chelsea: I’ll see you later, William. I have to go burn half of my belongings, and beat up a bitch in my basement.
Melanie: Huh. What do you know. William’s password is “mrsparkles.” Who could have guessed that?
Melanie: Oh, Peter. Peter, Peter, Peter. Well, everyone makes mistakes.
He’s an evil murderer.
Melanie: And for some reason I have a lot of sympathy with that.
Man, you guys have a ton of crap.
Melanie: This is all very familiar to me.
Melanie: Very, very familiar.
What? You didn’t. You couldn’t!
Peter: My thoughts precisely!
Peter: That’s what you get for underestimating Zombie Queen Melanie Lillard!
God, don’t start that again.
Melanie: I felt bad for you. You’re not such a monster, Peter. You’re just misunderstood.
Peter: Someone definitely misunderstood me today.
Melanie: So, I’ll distract William. You can sneak out now, just get yourself out of Pine Valley as soon as you can!
Peter: I am definitely about to start sneaking.
Melanie: You must be exhausted, after all that struggling and whatever caused your clothes to fall off.
William: Let’s call it “more struggling” and leave it at that.
William: Anyway, I’m off to bed. You coming?
Melanie: In a minute, I just need to check something first.
Melanie: Excellent. Unless they want to have a penis duel, which seems unlikely, I doubt they can hurt each other much.
Are you seriously doing this because you had an attack of conscience? You?
Melanie: I haven’t been evil since William resurrected me. You know that.
Yeah, I do, it’s just… so…
So incredibly disappointing, you see. Your fans are gonna have a fit.
William: Goodnight, ugly naked teenage Chelsea. I did it all for you! Mostly because you’re hot and legal now, but it still counts.
Peter: Did you do it? Did you get his gun?
Melanie: Yeah, I got it. And I unlocked the doors. You shouldn’t have any trouble escaping.
Peter: I dunno, William didn’t need a gun to handle me earlier. Maybe you’d better let me have it. What could go wrong?
Melanie: Sounds sensible. It’s not like you’re going to shoot him or anything.
Peter: Yeah. Right. Or anything.
Melanie: Well, goodnight Peter! I guess we won’t see each other again.
Peter: Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure you’re still going to hell, and I bought my ticket years ago.
William: I heard voices.
Melanie: Oh, go back to sleep. You were just dreaming.
Peter: Nah, this isn’t his dream.
Peter: It’s mine.
William: Melanie… how could you… wait… stupid question… never mind.
Peter: Guess what? As it turns out, fool me twice… you can’t get fooled again!
Think you could show a little emotion? Since you just got the greatest hero in the entire SimNation killed?
Melanie: Trust me, I’m crying. It’s just that my face muscles haven’t fully grown back yet.
William: WELL YOU CAN HAVE MINE
Peter: Attaboy Billy! Always end on a joke, it softens the blow.
See you next Friday! 😀