The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Eighty-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.

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How could I follow Tuesday’s entry?

By not even trying.

Last time in the Pine Valley Chronicles…

I didn’t want to do a newspaper. But I did it for you.

What have you done for me lately?

Darryl: Everything seems to be in order here.

Oh, good.

Because I think Darryl has things too fully under control right now.


Lora: Whoah. I need to sit down.

Wow, it’s like I took someone boring, and then stuffed something up her vagina that made her even more boring.

Lora: What are you talking about? I was standing up, and now I’m sitting down. I was upstairs, and now I’m downstairs! You can’t make this shit up!

Why would I want to?

Lora: I don’t wanna study right now!



Lora: I’m just gonna sit here for ten hours.

Good idea. You do that, and I’ll go get some crackers.

Let me know if anything interesting happens.

Haha, just kidding. It won’t.

Darryl: Maybe if I stack them?

Lora: Okay, Darryl, piss off. You’re killing my babies.
Darryl: It’s where they’re headed anyway.

He’s right, you know.

Bradley: Good lord.

Bringing your work home with you?

Bradley: I was designing a Real Housewives billboard for Grand Theft Auto V, and I think I just felt my soul snap.

Why is the baby on the floor?

Lora: Because Darryl wants to take it away.

But we’re trying to age them up.

Darryl: It’s easier if you just surrender to the inevitable.


Darryl: Okay, okay, if the kids are dying, it’s not my fault. Nobody told me which hole the bottles were supposed to go in!

Darryl: Because you just dumped them!

Darryl: This is a joke, right? Somebody put you up to this!


Except for the part about it being a joke.

Darryl: Okay, okay, NO! This is horseshit!
Bradley: Hey, is the butler dying? Awesome.

Darryl: Those are Lora’s boobs.
Lance: .oO(So cold…)

Lora: Yeah baby! The Maker just gave Darryl a heart attack.
Bradley: And you’re trying to send me after him?!

Lance: .oO(That was fun. Let’s do another.)

Lewis: .oO(Is that for the butler, or me?)

Bradley: How long have we had these counters?
Lora: Since we moved in.
Bradley: When was that?
Lora: A few years ago.
Bradley: Oh. That explains it.
Lora: What does?
Bradley: Turns out, I have no short-term or long-term memory.

Bradley: I guess that explains why I married you.

Bradley: What was I saying?

Lora: Just blow.
Bradley: I could say the same to you.
Lora: Not in front of the children, Bradley.
Bradley: Right, paying customers only.


So, the one with the sensible haircut is Lance. He’s TODDLER INFO.

The guy from an 80s metal band is Lewis. He’s TODDLER INFO.

I sure do hope I remember to fill out that toddler info before I post this.

Bradley: I don’t know what’s wrong with you, son, but I don’t want to get any on me.

Bradley: Maybe this will work. I always feel better after a good shit.

Or you could both keep shitting in your diapers.

Bradley: I see what you did there, and you can go to hell.

Lance: HAWHA
Lora: In Simlish, you stupid little shit!

Bradley: Well done! Now you know your mouth from your asshole.
Lewis: .oO(I wish someone had shown Darryl…)

Lora: Now, you stay in this crib, okay, Lance? Five years will pass like nothing, you’ll see.

Bradley: Safely stowed.

But… the other crib is empty. Where did you…?

Oh. Well.

Of course.



Is it just me, or is that urn trying really hard to throw out those valuable bottles of smart milk?

Lance: .oO(Where did the filthy Maxisface go?)

Lance: .oO(My eyes are full of Death’s feet.)


As first words go, those are pretty awesome ones.

Lance: And my nose is full of boogers.

Not the best sequel ever, but it’s certainly no Revenge of the Sith.

Goodbye, Darryl. You will be missed on.

Darryl: I think you meant to just say “missed.”

Whoops! No, sorry, that was a typo. I meant to say that you’ll be pissed on.

Like, forever.

Fuck you.

Lance: You came!
Bradley: And I’ve been regretting it ever since it produced you.

Lora: What does that bad joke have to do with the bag of money you were thinking about?
Bradley: You’ll see when he goes to college.

Yesssss. The world is rewarding me for murder.

It’s like I’m the United States or something.

Bradley: What a shitty day.

Sullivan: What a shitty neighbourhood.

Why thank you! It’s taken quite a lot of effort to get it this shitty, and I’m glad someone noticed.

Poppy: What are you doing?
Sullivan: Changing your sheets.

Poppy: They look pretty clean to me.
Sullivan: Fuck, sorry, I meant jerking off on your sheets.

Sullivan: Unless you’re in a cum-catching mood.

Sullivan: Man, you dykes are so sensitive!

Daisy: God, I hope he never changes.

Daisy: Adjusting an invisible tie?
Sullivan: Tightening an invisible noose. I like to give people accurate feedback on their conversations.

Daisy: You’re a pretty horrible bastard, aren’t you, Sullivan?
Sullivan: Not at all! I’m an excellent bastard!

Sullivan: Waugh! Don’t look now, but someone stuffed a fat ugly person under your skin.

Sullivan: And whenever you move, it’s like they’re trying to get out.

Daisy: I think I might have to marry you.

Sullivan: I do love a good murder incentive!

Sullivan: They say there’s satisfaction in earning a working wage, but I ask you: how is drowning an elderly woman in a pool of her own blood not work? It’s not like she was gonna drown herself. Being a quadropalegic and all.

Sure, pretend it’s the morning sickness.

We all know better.

Daisy: Killing people is a kid’s game. I killed my first person right after I hit teenhood. No, what you really ought to do is destroy people. Like, say, imagine you have a brother. Have constant mind-blowing sex with your brother, marry him, bear his children, and then tell him the truth just before he dies of old age.

Poppy: You told me our brother got hit by the schoolbus when we were young!
Daisy: Yeah, well, I tell you all sorts of stupid shit because you have no memories so you don’t know any better. Now go lick a vagina or whatever it is you do, I’m busy swapping war stories with the hellbutler.

Daisy: Fada soola gor!
Sullivan: You’re too blubbery to be a cheerleader.

Daisy: Fada soola bron!
Sullivan: And your face is all deformed, too.

Daisy: Fada vaby oh fuck it who cares.
Sullivan: Strong finish, though!

Sullivan: Now open your legs so I can puke up your urethra. Good god you’re disgusting.

Sullivan: But at least you spread it around.

Daisy: Speaking of spreading it around, here’s a few bucks. Don’t tell anyone I plan to ruin my brother’s life. Or that I have a brother, for that matter.
Sullivan: Oh boy, money! I could totally spend that, if I was real.

Sullivan: I’ll be right back, I have two or three totally unrelated news interviews to give.

Who you calling?

Daisy: Sullivan. Think he’s home yet?

I dunno, limbo is more of a state than a place.

Sullivan: What’s your fucking problem?
Daisy: Clothing appeared on me when you picked up. What does that mean?
Sullivan: It means I’m the only sane solipsist. And also the only real one.

Daisy: I think you need to come back over.
Sullivan: I think you need to eat a dick.
Daisy: I think these two things aren’t mutually exclusive.

Daisy: Although old guy dick once was probably old guy dick enough…

Daisy: Anyway, Poppy, about what you overheard earlier… it’s a complicated world out there, and I just haven’t had the time to explain everything to you properly. Especially the stuff I made up.

Poppy: Which seems to be everything.

Daisy: Look, you’re either with me or you’re dead.
Poppy: What happened to “against me”?
Daisy: I already covered that! With the “dead” part. Weren’t you listening?

Daisy: Sullivan! Seriously! On your butlerbike!

Where do you work, anyway?

Poppy: Golf course! I’m a caddy.

So you’re a caddy… who drives a Caddy.

Poppy: Not quite, but close enough.

You’re like a female Forrest Gump.

Excellent. No witnesses.

Sullivan: Suddenly I feel uneasy.

And you know something’s fucked up when Sullivan feels uneasy.

Or, alternatively, you know that everything’s fine.

Sullivan: But when does that happen around here?

Sullivan: Just imagine all the time and money they poured into this tacky fucking flamingo.

Really makes you think about the futility of human endeavour, doesn’t it?

Sullivan: The futility of tacky fucking flamingos, at least.

Daisy: Sullivan! Part of the point of coming over was proximity.

Sullivan: Maybe for her. For me it was all about getting my fucking phone to stop ringing.

Sullivan: Alright thundercunt, I’m here. Now what the fuck do you want.

Daisy: I want to show you something.

Sullivan: Well hopefully it shows up soon, because right now all you’re showing me is why people should need a license to buy spandex pants.

Sullivan: …aaaaaaand she fucking disappears.

Sullivan: I hope this isn’t what it looks like, because if it is, it’s the only thing that could possibly be tackier than those goddamn flamingos.

Sullivan: For fuck’s sake, it is. When I see her on the other side, I’m going to send her to the other other side.

Sullivan: For sheer bad taste WHERE ARE YOU GOING.

Daisy: Well. That was easier than I thought it would be.

Sullivan: Dear Diary: FUCK.

Sullivan: It all started when goddammit I hated those Murphy kids.

Sullivan: I intend to star in the move adaptation myself. That’s why I’m writing in so much sex and murder.

Sullivan: There remains the small matter of not dying in this chimney, but you know what they say: fuck the details is in the details.

Sullivan: A foxy yet mature costar, with an ample bosom… she’ll be perfect for most of my rape scenes.

Sullivan: Speaking of which…

Sullivan: A bit of metatextuality, and we’re finished!

Poppy: Anything interesting happen while I was gone?

Honestly, not really.

Sullivan: Shit, I forgot! Gotta lure the kiddies in too, so they’ll be scarred for life afterwards.

Trying to forget?

Daisy: God no! If I forget all this convoluted shit, there’s no way anyone’ll ever figure it out!

Sullivan: I hope there’s mental torture to go along with the physical torture! I fucking love that shit!

Sullivan: Anyway, if I’m gonna piss myself to death, I might as well do it in style.

Sullivan: Maybe it could be a TV miniseries! And then I’ll pull the plug at the last minute so the final episode never airs and everyone goes nuts.

Sullivan: While I do lines of crack off a dead hooker.

Sullivan: This was a good idea. Now I have something to live for.

Sullivan: Although right now, a toilet would almost be worth dying for.

Sullivan: Aaaand now it’ll depreciate.

Sullivan: Perhaps a line of plush Sullivan toys which spout profanity when you pull their strings, and more profanity when you don’t?

Sullivan: I’m not ready to die, dammit! There’s still so many motherfuckers that need calling out as motherfuckers!

And don’t forget the sisterfuckers, too!

Sullivan: Forget them? I am them!

Sullivan: And who’ll fuck my sister when I’m gone?! Our son’s not talented enough for her.

Daisy: Ah, woohoo! Main character over here!

Well don’t put a piss fountain in your house if you don’t want me watching it!

Daisy: I think my fat is rebelling!

Sullivan: Fucking Christ, she’s not spawning is she? Haven’t these people shat out enough little shits?!


You might as well stop with perfection! This is Andrea White. She’s named after her daddy, although he doesn’t know that he’s her daddy.

Strangely enough, this will never become a problem.

Her uncle who doesn’t know that he’s her uncle, however…


I know, I’m sorry.


Daisy: Pleased to meet you, Andrea! Mommy loves you, and you can be anything you want to be! As long as it’s dangerous.

Feeling that warm maternal glow?

Daisy: The multiplication of evil in the world is definitely giving me a bit of a buzz, yeah.

Sullivan: You want a bit of a buzz?! Come take some of my flies you raging bitchclit!

Thanks for that classy outro, Sully. Next time: love and grass-stained knees at MNU!

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