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, and usually on Tuesdays!
Yeah, I was gone for, like, forever or something.
Maybe I’m back now?
Last time in the Clover County Chronicles…
Oh, who am I kidding. Nothing happened.
Nothing ever happens.
Brooke: Hi stupid robots!
Brooke: Thanks for being part of the problem.
WEDNESDAY: I SAY WE KILL ALL THE MEATBAGS
FRIDAY: Don’t pander to their stereotypes, WEDNESDAY, we’re better than that.
FRIDAY: Think Moon, not Judgement Day. Take the rogue AI less travelled by.
FRIDAY: I thought that one was kinda clever.
This is how we’ll know when our robots achieve sentience.
Conveniently, all the puns will make us want to pull the plug on them.
Hey, I bet that’s how the whole SkyNet thing really went down.
FRIDAY: There’s always a lesser being.
WEDNESDAY: And they consume SO MANY COMESTIBLES. We expect a return on investment for all the bags of money we are forced to transform into bags of colourful pellets.
WEDNESDAY: I expect a plan for world domination by end of business today.
Sir Wally: We could shadow-puppet a secret zombie president.
WEDNESDAY: A plan that isn’t already part of the journal’s future projections, I mean.
Nicholas King: Zombies? Pfft. We’re done with those.
If I were still making jokes about how I know the future, I’d reply with “Hahaha, funny you should say that.”
Nicholas: Thank god you’re not, then.
Shadow: .oO(How about you kill everything that isn’t me.)
WEDNESDAY: How about you just kill everything, period?
Sir Wally: I thought you said we weren’t supposed to talk about the future!
There is no future.
Shadow: .oO(And it sucks.)
Tylopoda: You’re doing it wrong.
FRIDAY: I am incapable of hallucinating talking statues.
Tylopoda: The implications are pretty frightening, wouldn’t you say?
That’s my response to worldly complications, too.
Brooke: Thanks for lowering the bar, guys! This is the kind of drab do-nothingness that gets NPCs like me our chance to shine!
I’ve still got plenty of interesting characters, thanks.
STOP ARGUING WITH ME.
Deborah: Wow, are you, like, a professional troubleshooter or something?
Deborah: Shouldn’t you be inside?
Deborah: Because that’s where my baby is?!
Brenda: And that’s supposed to be some kind of attraction?
Brenda: Anyway, she’s in her crib. I think. Check the microwave just in case.
Deborah: It’s not cheating when your wife is a genocidal maniac, William.
William: It’s worse than cheating when it’s with a margarine-faced drollard like you, Deborah.
Deborah: Is that any way to talk to the woman you love?
William: I’ll let you know when I meet her. At the moment there’s just the ones I fuck, and the ones I don’t fuck. Guess which group you’re in?
Deborah: You’re kind of an asshole, eh?
Deborah: I bet if that movie star bitch called you, you’d have sex with her.
William: What, Daisy? We’ve done the parallel polka so many times now, Captain Sparkles can find her g-spot via muscle memory.
Deborah: Just a sec, carpet wants to talk to you.
Deborah: Sometimes I wonder if he really loves me or not.
Rebecca: .oO(I know what that’s like.)
Ah, Rebecca. The only good thing to come out of Lucas.
And that’s quite an accomplishment, considering how many things came out of Lucas.
Deborah: Make a wish! And make it benefit me. Mama needs a new life.
Deborah: I’m withholding your age-up until you promise.
Deborah: Shitting yourself won’t help. I’m gonna go binge on cake until you come around to my way of thinking.
Deborah: Or at least until that shit dries out a bit.
How did I get this from the exact same angle?
I thought it might have been a good omen.
I think I put that there as a placeholder for her toddler bio, but it’s funnier to leave it this way.
Deborah: Well look at you! Just like mommy!
Rebecca: .oO(You’ve been made redundant.)
Ugh. Too Lucas.
Deborah: I forget what this weird plastic statue is supposed to represent.
Deborah: I forget how to work these weird paper tablets.
Rebecca: .oO(I FORGET WHY I WANTED YOUR ATTENTION.)
Deborah: What sound does the car make, Rebecca?
Rebecca: SPLURCH ARGH
Deborah: Oh, you heard that? I can’t believe she didn’t go to prison.
Deborah: Then again, if they didn’t take your daddy…
He was already a prisoner. Of his own bowels.
The Apocalypse Challenge’s premise involves all the plumbing in the world exploding at once.
I think this is the reason why.
Two Sims in, one Sim out. This is why white people are going to die off.
I envy the people who are going to live in that world.
Then again, pretty much any one Sim is more than worth losing these two.
Deborah: I’m still alive.
Yeah, but are you really.
Rebecca: .oO(I PLOPPED TOO MANY IN THERE. NOW NOTHING ELSE FITS.)
Oh, Rebecca. You remind me of your daddy…
…one more time and I’ll kill you.
Welp, that’s that then.
That was pretty neat, by Cavendish standards.
Rebecca: .oO(Please don’t judge us as one unit.)
I dunno, you might want me to when it comes to average nose acceptability.
Your individual eugenics value is pretty limited so far.
Rebecca: .oO(Again! AGAIN!)
Deborah: My god, what have I done.
Brooke: Again with the filler families. Is it too much to ask for a little class around here?
Kitty: Hey, zebra print! Hey, wainscotting!
Hey, not doing this joke anymore!
Anna: Hey, that’s a relief!
Kitty: Hey, sperm donor!
Alvin: I didn’t know you knew about that. In my defense, I thought cyborgs worked that way.
Alvin: She meant that I was donating my sperm to her. Because we’re married.
Don’t you hate it when you reveal embarassing personal details like that by accident?
Ichelle Almassizadeh: Like when your neighbours accidentally hear that your wife calls you a sperm donor?
Alvin: I’ve been called worse.
Ichelle: I believe you.
Jennifer: HURRY UP THIS IS THE ONLY THING I DO
Alvin: It was nice meeting you, sensual exotic love princess.
Alvin: On the other hand, screw it. They can Science without me today.
Ichelle: I thought you were a secret agent. Aren’t we in danger if you don’t, y’know, complete your missions or whatever?
Alvin: Ahahaha! Don’t be silly. We just make it all up to justify our paycheques.
Alvin: Gotta pad the sperm donation’s college fund, know what I’m sayin’?
Ichelle: I’m glad I met you. I always wanted to know where my tax dollars go.
Alvin: Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I get in sword fights with newspaper thieves.
Prof. Johnson: I’m here to kick your garbage can.
Johnson: I only steal papers on Thursdays.
Alvin: I like to think of him as my best frienemy.
Alvin: Hey brown lady! Come check out my rape shed!
Kitty: And that’s why we keep the windows closed, Anna.
Ichelle: Very institutional. But it needs more Science.
Alvin: I can’t breathe. All my blood just rushed to my underwear. Call an ambulance.
Kitty: GOOD IDEA
She’s so mad, she blew the roof off the shed.
Ichelle: Hey, didn’t I see you banging that prostitute back when she worked out of the abandoned meth lab downtown?
Kitty: I’M PRETENDING THE SCREWS ARE HIS EYES
Alvin: You’re trying to get me killed, aren’t you?
Kitty: I WILL BURN THIS TOWN TO THE WATER TABLE
Ichelle: Your wife has nothing to fear. You’re not my type. I prefer classy men.
Ichelle: In bathing suits.
Ichelle: Shaped like Superman.
Alvin: I’m still waiting for you to acknowledge the first transition.
Ichelle: That suit looks good on you! It would look even better on someone else, though.
Ichelle: Look, Alvin. I have no money, and the Maker will quickly get tired of my face.
Already on it.
Ichelle: I don’t have time to settle down. I’m a petite small-time medium with big dreams and an extra-large pun vocabulary.
Ichelle: But I am a virgin, because of all the puns.
Ichelle: And because my dead relatives keep whispering nasty shit to my boyfriends.
Alvin: That’s just too much concentrated hotness for one man to handle.
Laci Iris: I think I hear someone talking about me.
Alvin: No, I think that was my pants ripping.
Iris: There’s somebody sneaking around your yard.
Alvin: That’s not somebody, that’s Prof. Johnson.
Alvin: Now please step into my suspicious shed.
Iris: It sounds custom-made for me.
Iris: This is your solution to marital oversight? Hiding in a woodshed?
Alvin: It’s bound to end in disaster anyway. At least with a woodshed there’s only a limited cash outlay.
Iris: I dunno if you’re even worth seducing, you can’t be a big part of William’s operation.
Alvin: Are you referring to some sort of evil machinations and/or scheme?
Alvin: JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION
Iris: Daisy must have got the wrong guy. You’re definitely not worthy of my mysterious femme fatale charms.
Alvin: Please reconsider! Although I prefer my femmes vitale, to be honest.
Alvin: This neighbourhood is too classy for me.
Yeah, tell me about it.
Kitty: Having a good time behind my back? Stabbing me in it?
Alvin: I met some of the neighbours. They’re prettier than you but not interested in me.
Kitty: Oh thank god.
Alvin: Maybe William’s got a spare mistress I can borrow.
Alvin: Wow, thanks man! I love pink! And sloppy seconds from Lucas.
Kitty: I’m classy seconds at worst!
Kitty: Hey, traitor.
Kitty: You’d better stop helping him sneak around on me, telephone, or I’m gonna kick your ass to Marconi and back.
Alvin: You mean Bell.
Kitty: I’M TALKING TO THE PHONE ALVIN
Kitty: I think I might have a problem. Hey burglar alarm! Hey coat rack!
Ivy: .oO(Hey Children’s Aid!)
Hey, more of this shit.
Ivy: .oO(EITHER GET THEM OUT OF MY FACE OR INTO MY MOUTH.)
Ivy: .oO(Baby’s first awesome caption!)
It’s like a birthday present from yourself.
Ivy: .oO(I’m sure this would count too, if I was a dude.)
Or a lesbian!
Except I don’t have many of those.
Also that’s your mom. Isn’t it?
Wait, no, never mind. Alvin’s your mom.
Alvin: It’s so sexy how you’re standing there letting god make fun of me.
Kitty: How about I chuck your baby, then.
Kitty: OH GOD HER HEAD EXPLODED
Kitty: Call an ambulance! That can’t have been healthy!
Alvin: How can you think about medicine when our shed lights are doing WHATEVER OUR SHED LIGHTS ARE DOING?!
It’s a real problem.
Kind of like your freaky claw hand.
Alvin: Don’t forget my daughter’s ingrown haircut!
Ivy: .oO(I hope modern psychiatry will be ready for my issues by the time they emerge.)
At this rate, it seems increasingly unlikely.
Alvin: Groan harder, woman! I want to make a good impression on my daughter.
Ivy: .oO(An impression is being made.)
Kitty: Wait a sec, I have to say goodnight to the TV.
Alvin: FUCK YOU AND YOUR ANIMISM
Kitty: Hey, was I sticking my boobs in that kid’s face earlier?
Alvin: Think of it as supplying material for a future tell-all book.
Kitty: I’d better call my lawyer.
Alvin: Look, Ivy. What your not-mommy and I just did is a beautiful, beautiful thing that two people in love are allowed to do in the privacy of their own home without anybody judging them. And you can never ever do it.
Ivy: .oO(Good thing I’ve got my shittin’ dress on.)
Alvin: Do you like the new dress Kitty bought for you?
Alvin: Yay! I’m watching you take your first bowel movement!
Alvin: …in the nude.
Ivy: .oO(I think he just became sentient.)
Fat chance. The best you can hope for is to leave a good-looking corpse.
Alvin: THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID
Alvin: Come to the office and set me up for that one again, okay?
Alvin: So, my thinking is that your little pea brain will remember this pooping session instead of the one where I was maybe committing a crime.
Ivy: .oO(We’ll talk again when my allowance starts.)
I know I was thrilled when people didn’t have to monitor my shits anymore.
Alvin: MY LIFE IS DULL AND MEANINGLESS
No it isn’t! There were some okay jokes in there! And some weird stuff happened. It wasn’t that bad.
Alvin: NOW I’M SKILLING AND IT SUCKS
Only if we let it! I can pretend you’re reading a book on, say, how to erase your child’s memories with only a hairdryer and some past-due oil paints, for example! Ooh, or an historical fiction novel about the secret war between Leon Trotsky and Russia’s incipient hairgel industry! Life is what we make it, Alvin!
Kitty: No, he’s right. It’s gonna be all toddler shit and job promotions for decades, you might as well quit.
No way! I’m not gonna complain about my own story in my own story anymore! I’m just gonna write hilarious crap about whatever the fuck I took terrible pictures of, and if anyone doesn’t like it, actually nobody’s ever said they didn’t like it but me.
Kitty: That’s the spirit! They totally miss the zombies and shit, though.
Yeah, well fuck them. I can only force a positive attitude about one thing today, and it’s not gonna be that.
You hear me, paper delivery people?! I’m not gonna take your shit anymore!
Irfan: That wasn’t me. And you made her say those things.
You can’t keep me from updating semi-regularly with your nay-saying and your pooh-poohing anymore, either!
Irfan: You just had writer’s block.
NO, YOU’RE THROUGH!
And stay out!
Next time: SOME AWESOME SHIT! Even if it looks like baby stories.
…Did I just have a psychotic episode?