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!
Well, so much for Tuesdays.
And now, nudity.
Aren’t you trapped in Daisy’s walls?
Sullivan: Yeah, but the stupid game doesn’t know that.
Bradley: Remember Lance, stay away from butlers. They are like bears. They rummage through your trash and molest your children.
Lance: Butlers suck.
Bradley: That’s my boy!
Sullivan: Put that down! You’re not good enough for it.
Sullivan: I’m surprised you’re still so fuckable, after those disgusting little phlegmballs dropped out of your crotch.
Lewis: Man, butlers really do suck!
Lewis: And also this place is a fucking mess.
Those two facts are related, too.
Bradley: This is my Lora impression.
Needs more ass crack.
Sullivan: Do you want me to rub you with things while you’re naked?
Lewis: I’m frozen in terror at the very idea!
Sullivan: That’s good, I thrive on your fear.
Sullivan: Was it something I said? Was it everything I said?
Lewis: .oO(I want my daddy.)
Sullivan: Oh yeah? Well I don’t wanna be a telepath but we can’t always get what we want now can we.
Sullivan: Good, you’ve already got the bed. I’ll go pour you some dog food.
You people are so fucking stupid.
Lora: Stupid in love.
Stupid in everything!
Oh, good, are you back to stealing stuff now?
Sullivan: Just hearts.
Sullivan: I meant the little hearts this thing puts out.
Yeah, but that’s not what I was uuuuuughing.
Sullivan: Oh, what, did you accidentally see yourself naked or something?
Sullivan: Nothing like a little cold water to shrink the big man down! He chafes so when he’s erect.
You should see the other guy.
Bradley: NO I SHOULDN’T
Sullivan: Want a tossed salad? I tossed it myself. With my dick.
Sullivan: He’s lucky he left. ‘cuz that’s not salad dressing on there.
Lora: THESE PICTURES SURE ARE INTERESTING
Bradley: I thought I told you to get rid of Sullivan.
Lora: But that would involve talking to him.
Lora: Dude, move. I want to put this salad in the fridge.
Sullivan: Hey, what a weird coincidence! I want to wipe my dick all over your fridge!
Sullivan: And then make dick food.
It’s no crazier than anything else around here.
Lora: He’s using up all of our food.
Bradley: And all of my patience, too.
Lewis: To say nothing of my innocence.
Sullivan: Hey, mind if I jump rope in the nude for a bit? I think it might have hilarious consequences for your children. You know, later. When they need therapy.
Bradley: Lora! You’re naked!
Sullivan: Lora! You’re naked!
Lora: Guys! I live here!
Bradley: Oh, really? That explains why you never leave.
Bradley: And why I never get a bill.
Lora: DO SOMETHING BRADLEY I THINK I’M STARTING TO LIKE HIM
Sullivan: Haha! It looks like I’m tiny, and you’re touching my penis!
Lora: What? How can you tell what the journal looks like from over there?
Sullivan: WE’RE IN A JOURNAL?!
Sullivan: I’m afraid you know too much. I am going to have to punch you to death.
I’d like to see you punch a grown woman to death.
Sullivan: I was talking to her baby.
I’m pretty liberal, but I don’t think I’m pro-fist, personally.
No matter what it means.
Lora: Bradley! Not in front of Lewis!
Bradley: Oh, I didn’t know he was in line! Sorry!
Sullivan: Here, I filled this up with my naked hot tub water. It’ll put boils on your chest.
Sullivan: Thanks for the laser pistol, Dark Lord Fridgeman!
That’s a TV dinner, from a weird angle.
Sullivan: WELL THEY DIDN’T HAVE TO KNOW THAT
Sullivan: Now I’ll have to cook it. Dark Lord Fridgeman is gonna be so displeased.
Sullivan: Especially since there’s peas, and he hates peas.
All right-thinking people do.
Even fridge people.
I’m not sure why they keep cooking TV dinners.
I’m not sure I want them to stop, though, so it’s fine.
Who knew letting people trapped in another house into your house would be so buggy?!
Sullivan: These people sure are jumpy.
Sullivan: Mind if I come in?
Sullivan: Awesome, that makes it more fun for me.
Bradley: You’ve scarred my children and eaten all my food, Sullivan. Goodnight.
Sullivan: I’m not leaving until I’ve scarred all your food and eaten all your children, Bradley. Good times!
Sullivan and Bradley: OH GOD A DICK
Sullivan: I’m not! I’m hamburglaring!
Bradley: What’s going on here? Something set off my hamburglar alarm!
Sullivan: I reached all the way across the room, and I took your hamburger.
Bradley: NO MORE HAMBURGER JOKES
Sullivan: Because dick attacks are better?
Thank god for the discretion cloud.
Lance: I care enough to sit up but I don’t care enough to wake up.
Sullivan: Man, are you ever out of shape! You need to start raping people in the park, it really gets your abs toned.
Sullivan: I claim this baby poop as my spoils of victory.
Lance: Aw man, what’s he doing with my poop? Did he claim it as spoils of victory or something?
Bradley: Look. Sullivan. Can you just get the fuck out of here already?
Sullivan: Well of course I can! All you had to do was ask!
Sullivan: I didn’t realize he wanted to use the bathroom.
Sullivan: Hmm. Tempting, but you know what they say… “bet you can’t molest just one.” And I’m sure some prude would call the cops.
Sullivan: I guess I’ll just wipe my ass on this chair instead.
Bradley: I hope he’s not bothering Lora.
No, apparently he’s hot and bothering Lora.
Sullivan: PUT SOME CLOTHES ON YOU’RE HIDEOUS
Bradley: Here’s a hundred bucks. Get the hell out of my house.
Sullivan: I accept the hundred bucks! That other thing I’ve already forgotten, though, not so much.
Bradley: Why are you acting so strangely? I mean, you’re usually all creepy and rapey and shit, but this is like you’re having a mental breakdown or something.
Sullivan: Or like somebody’s got me trapped in a secret room in their house, and they’ve drugged me and sent me over here to wreak havoc on you before locking me back in.
Bradley: Look, if you’re not going to take this seriously, I don’t even care.
Bradley: At least stop following my wife around! It’s like you’re trying to steal her hair or something.
Sullivan: Her diary, actually. Did you know she calls you “Wyatt Derp”?
Lora: Remember how we were locked in a basement by a serial killer?
Lora: And half of us died? Maybe that’s what’s happening to Sullivan!
Bradley: It’s like there’s this big bag of urine floating over the valley, and it keeps springing leaks.
Sullivan: Speaking of leaks. Heheheheheh.
Lewis: I love you, Teddy! Because you can’t see how ugly I am.
Lance: I hate you, Teddy! Because AI was a shitty shitty movie.
Lance: And also because you can’t protect me from the pedophile.
Lance: I need a hug, Lewis. But nothing gay.
Lewis: I love you, Lance.
Lance: Nothing gay! Nothing gay!
Lewis: …did you just piss yourself?!
Lewis: It’s all over my hands!
Lance: You’re welcome!
Lewis: For lack of a better word.
Lance: Hahaha these don’t have gross dangly bits!
Lewis: I like them better than mommy and daddy and scary!
Why are you thinking about the stairs?
Lewis: I’m not! I’m thinking about the first one. All the others are a purely academic concern if I can’t climb it.
Lewis: Let me in! We need to sleep together. For safety.
Lewis: It’s still out there.
Mayhew: Now it’s in here!
Great, two pedophiles are totally better than one.
Bradley: I just want to kiss you, in case this new butler is worse and I don’t get the chance again.
Daisy: Yeah baby! What do you want to hear?
Andrea: .oO(It doesn’t matter, you’ve already blown my eardrums out. I’m like two you crazy bitch.)
Sullivan: Do you realize how serious this is? My suit is dry clean only! Although they do usually manage to get the blood stains out so maybe it’ll be okay.
Sam: Hmm. I’ll have to check under there for a spare key later.
Sullivan: I wonder if you can eat stink?
Sam: I’m making a bowl of Felk and Sulfla.
Daisy: I love Felk and Sulfla!
Uh-oh. If you’ve maxed creativity, you’re way overqualified for DJing now!
Sam: It doesn’t feel right, this place.
In what sense?
Sam: It doesn’t feel like it needs a butler. I mean, you have an entrance hall, with a wide sweeping stone staircase? Butler. You have a basement with a hookah and a DJ booth? Bouncer. It’s not difficult.
Bradley: Hey! I’m sneaking! Move the camera so I’m hidden by that post.
Sam: If you’re going to take something, how about you take this bag of garbage.
Sam: Or how about you get the fuck out of my way.
Bradley: Sullivan Kearney is a bastard!
Sam: That’s no way to talk about my father!
Sam Kearney: My father is a rapist and a thief and a mass-murderer and a baby-eater, but my grandparents were married!
Bradley: …who are you addressing?
Sam: The camera. Has it moved?
Sullivan: Yes. It has. And so have my bowels.
Sam: This whole house smells like my dad’s piss.
And how, though I will surely regret asking this, do you know what your dad’s piss smells like?
Sam: Dad believed in baby bottles, but he didn’t believe in milk.
Sullivan: I wondered where all that piss I was storing up went!
What were you storing it up for?
Sullivan: I lived through the Depression, you wouldn’t understand.
Sam: What should I do with this thing?
Sam: Doctor Spock be damned.
Sullivan: I never got that red transparent toilet I wanted 🙁
Now you’ll be dreaming about it all night.
Daisy: Go home, Sam.
Daisy: So you don’t notice when your dad dies.
Sam: Makes sense!
Sam: What are you doing? I wasn’t done waving yet.
I’ve run out of creative variations on “sultry.”
Actually, I ran out quite a while ago, but don’t tell me that. My ego is fragile.
Daisy: Got my death phone, got my concrete, life’s pretty full.
That’s… actually pretty tempting.
Sullivan: No… no… I don’t want…
Sullivan: …piss butler omelettes…
Sullivan: …what am I saying? Of course I do! What a stupid dream.
Daisy: Hey Poppy. You there?
Poppy: No, I’m actually in the next room now, because the game is bugged. But let’s pretend.
Sullivan: I just had the worst dream!
Sullivan: There were weird seams in my puddles of piss!
Sullivan: …fucking Christ, this game.
Sullivan: FIX IT.
Shouldn’t you be putting that closer to your lips?
Daisy: Nah, I want some of it to reach the baby. Stoned baby! Instant YouTube sensation, bitches.
Daisy: Alright, you’re almost two, time for your first stairway jump-rope lesson.
I hate to tell you this, Sully, but I think that ship might have sailed.
Sullivan: There were so many more terrible things I wanted to allude to having done!
Sullivan: I’ve done things you FUCKERS can’t even IMAGINE!
Sullivan: Set orphans on fire off the side of the road!
Sullivan: I watched seawater glisten on the bodies of drowned prostitutes!
Sullivan: All those… atrocities… will be lost in time, like…
Sullivan: Butlers… in…
The Grim Reaper: Time to die. FUCKER!
Now mix it all together and drink it! He would’ve wanted it that way.
Daisy: Ugh. The world just got a little bit brighter, and it’s all my fault.
You do look pretty sad.
Daisy: I’m so sad, my vagina is missing!
Daisy: FIX IT.
Daisy: Wait, no. I got this!
Daisy: Coverups! If it’s good enough for the government, it’s good enough for me!
Elle: Hi Mr. Kearney! How are you today?
Sam: My dad just died.
Elle: That’s great! He was terrible.
Sullivan: And I’ll be terrible again.
Sam: I’ll dump this on the berber, dad would’ve wanted it that way.
No, your dad would’ve wanted you to rub it on the berber.
You’re a terrible son, Sam.
Next time: a very long story about prostitution.
I’m surprised we haven’t done that before, honestly.