The Clover County Chronicles, 133

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 Monday, Wednesday, and Friday every week!

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Guess who has two thumbs which you cannot see and made his first three-day update schedule?

This guy.

I started taking pics of the household title cards at this point! Intermittently, though, because I’m a shit.

On a related note, I’ve reformatted, and have no access to townie names until the game’s reinstalled. So I’ll make up unfriendly nicknames for the few that show up.


Looking pretty… not a robot there, FRIDAY.

Shadow: .oO(I’ve got her cornered! WEDNESDAY, back me up until FRIDAY can take the rear!)

FRIDAY: We have trapped her, oh love of my artificial life!

Shadow: .oO(Face it. If you want to deliver that paper, you’re going to have to kill us all.)

Brooke: You leave me no choice.

And just like that, a legend is born.

Brooke: Mic: dropped.

FRIDAY: It’s alright, little guy. She’s magic or something.

FRIDAY: Hopefully something.

Nope. We’re not doing that shit right now.

See? Fresh out of fuck-you juice.

WEDNESDAY: We can afford more! I received a large inducement at my workplace today!

Hey, if it’s unwanted, it’s assault. Stand up for yourself.

FRIDAY: Like, what if, like, nothing means anything?

FRIDAY: You should all, like, let me paint you n’shit.

FRIDAY: We could hold a love-in and spoon in my bed.

He’s taking a correspondence philosophy course.

Fugstick: Hello neighbour! Wanna chat?
WEDNESDAY: I would rather die.

Fugstick: I get that a lot.

Fugstick: Should she be doing this in the rain?

Only if I don’t give a shit about her.


Why is this happening now?

Sir Wally: I think you left the game running when you went to the bathroom.

Shit, really?


Iris: I’m hatching a diabolical plan, Sir Wally.
Sir Wally: I’m a parrot.
Iris: Exactly. You’re pure evil.

Iris: Can I count on your loyalty when the time comes?
Sir Wally: Only if you promise me a lordship. I’m tired of defending this tiny castle with its newspaper floors and barred windows.


Science Bob: Is now a bad time?


Iris: I’m hatching a diabolical plan.
Shadow: .oO(I’m in.)

Iris: I’ll fill you in on the details once the planning stage is complete.
Shadow: .oO(Actually, I have some ideas of my own.)

Science Bob: How come you’re talking to all the dumb animals?
Iris: Not all of them…

Shadow: .oO(Sniff your own hand, pervert.)

Sir Wally: We could rig the power plant to blow!
Iris: We’d need some venture capital to purchase it.
Sir Wally: I know people.

Shadow: .oO(I’ll dip into my hidden dead rat collection.)

Sir Wally: How much would it cost for you to make us a bomb, scientist?
Science Bob: I do toothpaste research. So, a lot.

Iris: How about I give you a sack of ill-gotten money, and you use your contacts in the science world to find someone who can turn it into sweet, sweet bombage?

Science Bob: As long as you only want this bomb to whiten everyone’s teeth in a ten-mile radius, you’re on!

Science Bob: Because I’m a fucking dentist.

Dentist Bob: And the sexy eyes can’t change that.

Iris: Give them time.

Shadow: .oO(Yeah, let’s just bomb this place.)

Iris: Maybe these robots aren’t as much of a threat to our evil plans as I thought they were.

Yeah, we’re not exactly dealing with Skynet material here.

Sir Wally: We could blow up the courthouse.
Iris: We can’t talk here anymore. It’s not safe.

And then Dentist Bob ate the parrot.

Iris: Were you trying to prematurely end this storyline?


Sir Wally: If I have to work with this clown, I expect at least five retainers and forty vassals as recompense.

Iris: Grugly was right, this storyline needs to end. Bye stupid robots!

FRIDAY: We have been pretty stupid lately.

Robots having robots.

What is society coming to.

FRIDAY: WEDNESDAY! What did I tell you about slavery?!

FRIDAY: It requires population density to be effective.

FRIDAY: Build faster.


Brooke: Mornin’ robots!

Were you dreaming about the taxi driver?!

FRIDAY: She has nice skin.

Brooke: She has skin. Unlike certain artificial people I could name.

FRIDAY: We prefer the term “synthetic.”

Shadow: .oO(The rest of us prefer the term “extraneous characters.”)

FRIDAY: Right, time to change this shit up a bit.
Sir Wally: Yes! Thank you! The newspaper is turning translucent in here!

FRIDAY: Yeah that thing I mentioned?! I want to do that thing I mentioned! I want to do it today.

FRIDAY: This is gonna be so awesome.

So awesome I’ll have to quit the game and fire up some external utilities to make it work?

FRIDAY: I promise I’ll make it up to you.

FRIDAY: Be happy for me, Shadow. I’m becoming a real boy today.

Shadow: .oO(You and I both know that real boys suck.)

But real girls, though…

also sometimes suck.


FRIDAY: I might have overplayed that one.

Andrew: No, it’s fine. She hasn’t had any romance for like ten years. She gets so bitchy.

FRIDAY: Is this how it works?! Am I doing it right?!
Andrew: It’s no more or less awkward than it’s supposed to be, so, yes.

FRIDAY: Do you need me to set you up a workspace? Did you bring all the equipment you need?

FRIDAY: Should I get out my user’s manual? Do I have a user’s manual?

Andrew: I mostly just need this screwdriver.

FRIDAY: I am blisteringly unconvinced.

Andrew: All mechanical operations can be performed with a screwdriver.
FRIDAY: This one is pretty complicated, though.
Andrew: Not really. The maker has done it tons of times, and he doesn’t even have a screwdriver.

FRIDAY: Oh, that’s starting to itch.
Andrew: Yep. That’s a whole new category of joy you’re gonna have to experience. Itchiness.

Andrew: I think I can save you from dandruff via the simple expedient of baldness, though.
FRIDAY: What about pimples?
Andrew: It’s all part of the package.

Andrew: And a damn fine package it is!

Andrew: You just need to learn to be happy in your own skin.

FRIDAY: How can I ever repay you, Andrew?
Andrew: Stop being so boring.

Andrew: And make your wife hot when you do her installation. I’ll leave a catalogue on the couch.

FRIDAY: Astounding! A completely pliant and realistically-pored dermal layer!

And Spock ears.

FRIDAY: The first body mod was free.

FRIDAY: These new photoreceptors are both more efficient and way more creepy! Uncanny Valley for the win!

Visible animation triggering cheat box for the lose.

And I’m more excited by the prospect of sexy lady robots, to be honest.

WEDNESDAY: This slave givin’ you any guff, Tylo?
Bust of Tylopoda: I done whipped ‘im good.

This is horrible, I’m abandoning it, I’m really really sorry.

WEDNESDAY: Who is that streamlined hunk of male-components?!

FRIDAY: Think of me as Pinocchio, only also a sex god.

FRIDAY: Now turn around and let me do a thing to you.
WEDNESDAY: You’ve been practicing your love poetry!

FRIDAY: Andrew is going to be observing the procedure.
Andrew: Oh, baby yeah.

WEDNESDAY: Oh, good, he showed you the screwdriver trick.

FRIDAY: I’m gonna show you a few screwdriver tricks of my own once this is over.

WEDNESDAY: Should I turn around before you’re done, so you can look at my beloved and beautiful face before it changes forever?
FRIDAY: What? Oh fuck no.


FRIDAY: Put your cranial processing unit between your servomotors and kiss your ugly robot ass GOODBYE!

WEDNESDAY: Did it work? Do I look okay?
FRIDAY: No. You don’t look okay. You look…
Andrew and FRIDAY:fine.

FRIDAY: Damn girl! You’re the yellow robot Vulcan of my dreams!

Andrew: When do you work, FRIDAY? I’ll come over and… show WEDNESDAY how some of her new… functions, function.

FRIDAY: I think I can manage on my own, Andrew. But it was a very noble offer.

Andrew: I wouldn’t say very.

WEDNESDAY: I can’t wait to try this new body out!
FRIDAY: Does that mean what I think it means?

It doesn’t even mean what she thought it meant.

FRIDAY: I feel like we’ve entered a whole new phase of our lives!

You have. In this one, you’re going to be slightly less boring pieces of shit.

Andrew: And their warranties are both voided now, too.

Good! Then I won’t need to replace them when they die.

Next time…

Oh, fuck it, let’s get the other boring house out of the way too. We’ve got the space for it.

If not necessarily the interest.

I didn’t even take a picture of the household card, because I was that unenthused to be loading these people.

Much like her father, Rebecca takes plopping things into holes very seriously.


Oh, yeah. Her father is Lucas.

I didn’t want to find you an image link.

Because it would be an image link to Lucas.

Deborah: Would you pay me some goddamn attention already?
Rebecca: .oO(When there’s this perfectly good hand right here in front of me?)

This is how most of us feel about Deborah, to be honest.

I even make that face when I see her household coming up next.

Deborah: You said you were going to stop with the self-deprecation.

I’m not deprecating myself. I’m deprecating you.

Deborah: Well, it’ll go faster if you both cooperate with me. Okay, first we’re gonna teach you how to tal-
Rebecca: Deborah. Your name is Deborah. Uh… high chair, teddy bear, bottle of milk. That’s the entire list right?

Deborah: She wants to impress her mommy!

Rebecca: She wants her mommy to piss off.

Rebecca: So she can piss out.

Rebecca: Come on, let’s multitask this bitch! Teach me to read while I teach myself to walk.

Rebecca: If we learn all these skills today we can skip right to my teen years!

Elle: That right there is a soccer mom in the making.

Elle: Whatever is making her glow like that, I’m pretty sure I can smell it in this.

Rebecca: No, that’s something extra I added just for you.

Elle: That child is a demon.

Rebecca: Demons are pussies. Demons can be exorcised.

Deborah: Today’s column is gonna be all about how I taught my baby to walk!

Oh, you’re one of those journalists.

Deborah: It’s gonna be hard to work it into this chick’s obituary, but I didn’t take that online creative writing course for nothing!

I didn’t know facial expressions were genetic…

So, this was kind of sudden.

I guess you need a lot of money to put both of you in therapy.

Deborah: If I get enough money, I can buy myself some friends!

Deborah: YES! A few more thousand and I can at least purchase a single non-confrontational conversation!

How come all you secret agents are staking out the boring households lately?

Theresa: It’s a desperate attempt to make it look like they’re connected to the wider storyline.

Shit, do we still have one of those?

It’s the quiet, inexplicable accomplishments that matter most.

That, and eating your own shit.

Pfft, no way.

Most be Photoshopped.

Deborah: How could you tell? I followed the tutorials to the letter!

This is why people’s Facebook profile pics are always from such unusual angles.

Deborah: Have a productive night, honey! I have high expectations for you!

Rebecca: I think I’ll take after daddy more.

Deborah: I have this weird feeling that I should have gotten an abortion.

Deborah: For pre-emptive self-defense, you know?

Please refer to Figure 135, where I was so bored I actually found myself staring at a bedside lamp.

Deborah: Should I teach her a nursery rhyme today? Or maybe chat up my new best friend on the phone?

Deborah: I could do some freelance journalism, or maybe make some positive changes in my everyday habits.

Deborah: Or, none of that.

Next time: secret agent sword fights.

No, really.

Secret agent sword fights.

And they become paradigmatic.

You have the weekend to look that word up.

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