The Pine Valley Chronicles, Chapter Ninety-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.

Updates on Friday every week!

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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.


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.

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.



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: 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.

“Dismiss NANNY“?!

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?
Bradley: Yes.
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.

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.


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: Good.

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!

Lance: Friendship!
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!

Your… what?

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?
Daisy: Whatever.

Sam: Okay.


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.
Sam: Why?
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!

What about?

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…

Sullivan: …piss.

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.

Yeah, probably.

Are you?

That’s great.

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.

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