The Clover County Chronicles, Chapter 102

Welcome to the Clover County 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!

Click Here for Previous Entries!

I’m behind on responding to comments and messages.

Feel free to mistake it for care and attention to detail.

I won’t insult you by pretending something happened last time.

I have many more creative ways of insulting you.

Behold, the trailer park of destiny.

But we’ve got even less auspicious things to look at today!

Cameron: After all I put you through, Andrew, how come you asked me to marry you?

Andrew: Your bust, mostly. And also your ass.

Cameron: …aren’t you gonna ask me why I said yes?
Andrew: I figured it was my appreciation of your bust. And also your ass.

Kent: I figure it was because you have it in for my spine.

Andrew: Wow. Wow. I rest my case.

Andrew: What, no comment?
Cameron: It seems safer that way.

Andrew: Oh! Also, you were naked when I asked you. And about to blow me.

Cameron: Yeah, I did drink a lot that night.

Andrew: Thanks for taking out the garbage, beautiful.
Cameron: It’s the meaningless things in life that make it worthwhile.

Andrew: Yeah. On that note, congrats on all those useless hobby lot memberships you have. Way to give undeserved credibility to the worst expansion set, honey.

Kent: I thought the missus just did that.
Andrew: Yeah, but she does it wrong.
Kent: Women.

Kent: They just don’t understand how garbage works.

Kent: And neither do I.

Kent: But that keeps me in business!

No way. Two babies is enough for you.

Andrew: Cameron is pregnant. Have you forgotten already?

What? We just saw her! She was thin as a rail!

Andrew: Yeah, but that’s just part of her pajamas.

I just… I don’t…


Andrew: …Michael? Hi! What do you want? No, I’m not busy, we’re just not friends.

Andrew: No, personally, I don’t think every virile young dude needs his own trophy lesbian. But it’s nice of you to ask. Who else is going on this safari? Oh, before you go, I ought to mention: Lesbos is just the god of that particular island. Yeah. No, I’m serious. Yeah. Sorry.

Andrew: YES, I’m sure there are no three-breasted women on Mars! I’ve been there. Amin took me on his last Space Pirate interview. What? No, apparently his hair would get too clogged up in the air filters or something.

Andrew: Look, if the government has my phone tapped, we’re both going to the funny farm for this conversation.

Kent: Where do you want this rubber bag of baby shit?
Andrew: And now the butler is going to jail, too.

How was your day?

Amin: On a scale of garden gnome to oven range, it was lounge chair.

Andrew: I bet he’s gonna get a promotion soon anyway, I hear he’s got the scientists at SNASA working on the filter problem. He told them it had something to do with a stranded moonshot and he gave them a bag of used pinball machine parts to jury-rig it. Said he saw it in a movie once.

Kent: So, should I be expecting Libyans or Ron Howard now?
Andrew: Don’t open the door for either of them. Especially Ron Howard, he might have his brother with him.

Andrew: It’s like momma always said, “Have lots of children, Andrew. That way one or two of them might live.”

Your mother never said that.

Andrew: How do you know?

She got your name right.

Enjoying yourself?

Cameron: Especially the part where I’m alone.

Well excuse me.

Cameron: Happily.

Andrew: Okay, here’s one. I bet you can’t… insert your hand into your chest, but make it look humble.
Amin: Pfft, too easy.

Cameron: Bow before me, insects, for I am your queen!

Ha. You were never a queen. You didn’t have the pink hair for it.

Kent: Don’t touch that! I think it’s good for you.

Amin: Are you good for anything other than obstruction?
Kent: I’m an expert taxidermist. Care to become an urban legend for real?

Cameron: So, who’s gonna teach him to walk?
Andrew: I will.
Cameron: You don’t get to do everything!
Andrew: It’s just that you never quite lost that zombie shuffle, and I don’t want him getting beat up at school.

If he’s anything like his siblings, it’s virtually guaranteed.

Angelica: .oO(Smell his feet, thrall!)
Nathaniel: .oO(Why do you only use our psychic link for evil?)
Angelica: .oO(Because if it were meant for good, it wouldn’t have this ominous echo.)

Angelica: I can hear the Elder Gods in my teeth. Ahahahahaha.


Andrew: But you’re the one who wants to go to space!
Amin: Yeah, but nobody here can lift me. I expect a full report on this experience once I let you down.

Andrew: It was no dumber than anything else that happens around here.

Amin: Tomorrow we’re doing G-force tests. I’ll need to borrow your riding lawnmower.
Andrew: We don’t have a riding lawnmower.
Amin: Then I’ll need to borrow your credit card.

Andrew: Say “Andrew”!
Nathaniel: Beawd guy.
Andrew: Close enough!

Cameron: Why are they talking about highchairs?
Kent: It’s a guy thing.

Nathaniel: NEW HAT!

Andrew: Bottle.
Angelica: Bottle.
Andrew: Wow! That was fast!
Angelica: What, were you still shitting your pants and mumbling in public school or something?

Nathaniel: Hewp hewp foops in my mowf

Angelica: You disgust me.

Why the tiptoeing?

Cameron: I don’t want to wake the baby!

That’s… it’s not…


Cameron: Ten bucks if you make that not my problem.

Nathaniel: Sing! Sing!
Andrew: Do you know any Pink Floyd?

Angelica: No, but he’s all about the Brown Trousers.


Andrew: Go the fuck to sleep or I’ll crush your head with my hand.
Angelica: Finally, language I can respect!

Andrew: ‘cuz I really needed respect from someone who poops in a bucket and sleeps in a cat bed.

Amin: It’s just a little stain, geez. You realize I don’t wear clothes, right? And anyway that couch is practically plastic, it’ll rub right off.

Andrew: What now? Are her track pants too tight again?

Andrew: It looks better under the covers, trust me.

Andrew: Wow, it’s like Santa Claus in reverse or something.


Emerson Price-Murphy, already the butt of three jokes before he was even born.

It suits him.

Thank god, Ember’s eyes.

Or, rather, thank god, not Bradley’s.

Andrew: DAMMIT! I missed the clothes fairy again! Curse him, and his fey speed!

Amin: I’ll fire up the oven!

Andrew: Silly Amin! Babies aren’t for eating!
Kent: Now, let’s not be hasty. It’s a wild and wonderful world out there.
Amin: I’m gonna buy a spice cellar, just in case.

Amin: How long do these things take to grow? We need to know whether these ones are still worth feeding or not.

Cameron: Yep, just a few minutes ago. Nah, the clothes fairy already came, I’m good. How you been?

Cameron: I wasn’t really asking, mom, you guys are even more boring than we are.

Nonsense. This could only be the home of some desperately interesting people.

Kent: Parts of it are pretty neat.

Cameron: So yeah, let me know when you guys are getting hitched and I’ll send the butler over!

Ember: That would be today.

Kent: Hey hey! Double shifts! Bullshit.

Stephen: Lookin’ foxy, baby!
Ember: Yeah, but I’ll be lookin’ Fox-Murphy in a minute or two, and that’s no good.

Stephen: It’s just a formality, the Maker totally forgot we weren’t already married.

You have no proof of that!

Stephen: It’s in the recaps, plain as day.


This still counts as a church marriage.

Ally: These balloons are pretty kitschy. And we’re wearing the same dress.

Ember: And the institution of marriage is an unfair limitation on my sexual freedom.

Stephen: Well I might as well get drunk and complete the day’s ruination, then.


Ally: Do you need to do that?
Kent: No, but it bugs you.

Kent: And shitty maids need bugging.

So, you wore some shit maternity thing to your marriage, but now you’re wearing your real wedding dress for studying.

Ember: It’s like the dinner fork/dessert fork thing, I can never get it right.

Ember: Ooh, I dunno. This is pretty risky.
Ally: I’ve never known someone who agonized this much over chess moves.

Ember: No, I mean, it’s pretty risky, you playing chess when you should be working. I might need to fire your ass.

Ally: Chicks like you are the reason I’m not gay anymore.

The ceiling is leaking.


Kent: Fuck her forever.

Ocean: Hey baby, pleased to meet you. I’m Ocean Do, and I’m gonna Ocean Do you!
Ally: I’d suggest you Ocean Don’t, or you’ll end up Ocean Can’t.

Kent: Look, I know you’re both changelings and all, but do you think you could settle on one physical form for five fucking minutes?!

What’s the experiment, lady scientist?

Jade: I’m testing my hypothesis that I have absolutely nothing to do with my time.

Stephen: Concept Artist in the hizzouse!

For those of you who don’t know, concept artists are the guys who do those sketches for movies and video games where you find them on the internet after the fact and go “Oh! That would have been much cooler.”

Ally: Kinda like the image in his head when he decided to make himself look like that, as opposed to how it actually turned out.

Ember: Go analyze the light switches somewhere else, please, okay?

I guess some days, there just aren’t enough doors in the world.

Ember: I get to be on top this time.

Stephen: The secret to a happy marriage is knowing when to suck it up and let your wife squish your balls with your unborn children.

No wonder it’s stayed a secret for so long.

Stephen: Man, that three hours was invigorating!
Ember: Oh SimChrist, is he middle-aged already?

Ember: I’m gonna have a chat with him about putting Mona Lisa eyes in our shitting room.


Ally: I knew putting a giant fertility idol in my bedroom was a bad idea!
Jumbok: What? No. I’m a beer belly idol.

Ember: If you’re about to spew beer out of your vagina, Ally, I hope you intend to clean it up.

Ugh. Beer would have been better.

This is Jerry Ternynck. And since I’m such a good teacher, I’m gonna let you all know that this is something you should not bother memorizing.

Ember: Why do you insist on killing babies?

I’ve never killed a baby!

I’ve just marked them for death.

If only it had been born high-res.



Stephen: Good luck with that.

Ember: You coming down or what?

Stephen: Nah, got a pretty good view from up here, thanks.

Xavier Fox-Murphy: .oO(I’m just barely not a bastard!)

Good, we need some more not-bastards around here.

Specifically, on this piece of berber.

Okay, so we’re playing hot potato baby now?

Wren Fox-Murphy: .oO(I am a different baby.)


Stephen: My wife is a cloning chamber? Hot.

Ember: Okay, so… I forget what comes next.

Next you fuck up their childhoods, and they either become sluts or zombie traitors.

Ember: Right, but if I use Moon Stone on them, they evolve into Wigglytuff, right?

No, I think they just get grey and dusty.

Stephen: Symmetry!
Ember: Yeah, but now you’re not actually looking at the baby.
Stephen: Bonus!

Kent: I’m glad you survived the ordeal of childbirth, Mrs. Fox-Murphy. Did the apothecary bring enough laudanum and leeches?
Ember: Hahaha old people. You so old!

It’s like everything I always wanted.

Has been taken away from me.

Kent: Poor baby! You don’t belong here!

Kent: You belong here. Because you are such a poor baby.

Ember: I never thought I’d miss all that underarm fat. And I don’t.

Where are you going?

Ally: Work.

I thought you were a maid.

Ally: I’m a maid detective.

New TV series idea! Put it on Fox, to make sure it gets cancelled.

Next time: sex, nudity, and screaming.

Hey, new tagline!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.