The Clover County Chronicles, Chapter 158

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.

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This one isn’t too badly written.

Don’t get used to it.

On a hopefully unrelated note, I finally buried all the dead people at MNU.

It has nothing to do with this chapter, but since nobody will ever visit all these friendless and family-less dormies, I thought I’d show you anyway.


Richard: And it’s true.

Richard: But who told you I eat babies?

Richard: I’m gonna go find them and eat them too.

This was the most rational explanation for what he’s doing.

Clay: Nah. He’s remote-controlled.

Clay: The promotion rewards in the Criminal career track are awesome.

Clay: Alternatively, he’s bugged out and all I got for my promotion was a fucking… a fucking…

A fucking what?

Clay: You can’t fucking remember.

Yeah, drawing a complete blank here.

Clay: A fucking pile of money, anyway.

Clay: Why not? That’s all the person controlling us ever does.

I like the sound you make when you hit them. It’s a really satisfying


Abigail: You know what else is really satisfying?

Abigail: Being the best at two completely different jobs.

Mad scientist and environmetalist aren’t completely different at all.

Abigail: And the rewards just keep on comin’.

You know, you have the highest-paid job in the game, with the lowest number of hours.

Abigail: I’ve saved the environment already.


Abigail: Yeah, there’s this highly radioactive comet that only comes every thirty years, and I used a focused superlaser to alter its course so that it saturates the atmosphere with a specific kind of quantum particle that prevents climate change and makes poachers drowsy.

Abigail: There just hadn’t been a mad scientist environmentalist before.

Abigail: Let’s see: they’re offering me a guest spot on “I, Serial Killer.”

Playing yourself?

Abigail: No, it’s a cameo. They say I look too young to play myself in the past.

Welp, either way, that’s one more for the attic.

Abigail: And there’s an opening for a fortune-teller, too.

You read that wrong. It says “financial planner.”

Abigail: Same difference.

Now that’s a reward!

Abigail: Why?

It’s a Resurrect-O-Nomitron! You can use it to bring all your dead children back to life!

Abigail: Remind me.

There’s the vampire son who stood next to the window on a sunny day, the zombie one Cecilia killed with an axe, the zombie one Cecilia killed with an axe, the zombie one Cecilia killed with an axe, the zombie one Cecilia killed with an axe, and the one with the stupid hair that got run over by Rosemarie’s car.

Abigail: GOOD LORD.

Clay goddammit

Clay: What?

I’m writing this on my netbook, in a van, on a cloudy day. I can’t see a fucking thing you’re doing here. You look like one of those deep sea fish with the lanterns on their heads doing the Macarena.

Clay: I can’t have people think I’m doing the Macarena…

Abigail: Right, ‘cuz there’s criminal, and then there’s unforgiveable.

Abigail: For instance, leaving my books on the floor is unforgiveable.

Abigail: Using my stuff, though, is just criminal.

Clay: Crime feels great!

Abigail: Did you leave the fucking toilet seat up again?!

Clay: Criminal and unforgiveable.

Abigail: But not unsolvable.

Abigail: Hey, Stephen! Want to turn a minor household incident into a torrid affair?

Clay: I like that no consequences ever occur.

Abigail: I think being a world-famous environmentalist entitles me to at least two men.

Look out, Abigail! There’s a rapist outside!

Stephen: Dude, turn up your contrast or something! It’s just me!

Oh! Hey, Stephen!

Look out, Abigail! There’s a Murphy outside!

And he wants to adopt you!

Abigail: Let him.

Abigail: Stephen! Honey!
Stephen: Abigail! Sugar!

How sweet.

How platonically sweet.

Stephen: I’m pretending she’s standing slightly to the right.

Stephen: So right.

Stephen: Torrid affairs were teased.
Abigail: Pretty sure it’s you I’m teasing.

Abigail: So I spend all day doing science stuff, and he’s ungrateful!
Stephen: Been there!
Abigail: And he doesn’t think I spend enough time with him, so he lashes out in little ways.
Stephen: I used to leave the trash full for days!

Abigail: Are you implying I’ve always been a neglectful spouse?
Stephen: Remember that time you let Andrew disintegrate me.

Stephen: And left me dead for a decade?

Abigail: Is tickling an appropriate form of restitution?
Stephen: No, but it’s a prelude.

Abigail: I’m engaged, you know.
Stephen: I think I count as a pre-existing engagement, though.

Abigail: We were married like a hundred years ago, Stephen.
Stephen: Pretty sure we never divorced, Abigail. Pretty sure getting disintegrated by a laser pistol isn’t a form of legally binding separation.

Abigail: Well, if it’s not cheating then, let’s do this thing.

Stephen: I am willing to do, to things.

Abigail: Your Buffy-speak just referred to me as a thing.

Stephen: And you just compared me to Buffy. Pretty sure we’re even.

Abigail: I was gonna say “Felicity.”
Stephen: But you’re too horny to do something that stupid.

You’re aware that the chemistry between you is all coming from your hotness, right Abby?

Abigail: Yeah, but that’s true with anyone, not just Stephen.

Abigail: And I have become accustomed to sucking his face.

Stephen: …I just realized we have each other’s hair colour now.

Abigail: Neither of us looks much like we used to, eh.
Stephen: We’ve changed a lot, yeah.
Abigail: You look better.
Stephen: You don’t.

Abigail: The next thing from your mouth had better be an explanation.

Stephen: That look doesn’t suit you. You’re a lot prettier when you’re only trying to please yourself, instead of the douchebag you’re living with.
Abigail: You can’t please all of the douchebags all of the time!




Stephen: Any transition to Abigail’s ass is a great transition.

Abigail: Unless you try it during sex, in which case you’ll need your son to make a robot penis to replace the one I laser off.

Stephen: Sorry, what? I was transitioning again and didn’t hear you.

Stephen: There are weird shapes under you.
Abigail: Light falls only hesitantly on my body, afraid of marring its effervescent beauty.

Stephen: No, I think the shadows are fucked up.
Abigail: Oh, could be that too.

Abigail: Luckily you need light for shadows.

Stephen: I’ve missed this.
Abigail: Of course you have.
Abigail: What, do you want me to tell you that I’ve never had better? ‘cuz you’d know it was a lie.

I’d learn to Spiderman for that view.

Abigail: It’s got to be better than the view I have right now.

Stephen: And far worse than mine.

Abigail: Alright, the bank robber’s coming home soon and I don’t want him to see you coming in his home.

Stephen: But what if I transition again?

Abigail: A lazy god is a dangerous ally, to be sure.

Stephen: Thanks, dangerous ally.

Got your back.

Stephen: You could ditch the criminal.
Abigail: You could dump the redhead.
Stephen: Why? I had her the whole time you and I were married!

Abigail: And that is why we’re never doing this again.

Stephen: Then let’s make it end on a memorable note.

Stephen: We did this on our very first date, in this same room!
Abigail: Yeah, this room has a lot to answer for.

Abigail: You know what we didn’t do on our first date…
Stephen: I don’t think we ever did that ever.

Abigail: There’s a first time for everything, even if it is often the last.

Stephen: You’re a lot sexier when you’re someone else’s wife.

Abigail: I wouldn’t do this if I was still yours.
Stephen: So far you’re not doing anything.

Stephen: Ohh… ohh… OW! What’s digging into my crotch?
Abigail: The engagement ring Clay gave me.
Stephen: Ohh. Ohh. That’s hot, keep it on.

Abigail: It’s gonna leave a welt.
Stephen: Clay ought to be allowed to leave his mark somewhere. My crotch seems appropriate.

Stephen: Hmm. Have you been de-tanning? ‘cuz I thought Victoria was the token albino in our group.

Right? I mean Christ, it’s like you’re getting blown by a ghost.

Abigail: It’s been fun, Stephen.
Stephen: See? That’s why I cheated on you so much!


Abigail: Okay, okay! Sucking me into your mouth won’t change anything!

Stephen: Offing that asshole you live with might.

Abigail: My kisses make people homocidal!

Abigail: This world needs more genetics like that.

Abigail: Give me back my son.

Abigail: …oh. Really? I keep forgetting I had more than one.

Abigail: This is why I hate magic. Science doesn’t go in for flashy crap you can’t see through.

Oliver: I would like to solicit science’s help with some problems I am having.

Oliver: After due celebration, of course!
Abigail: If you crack the stucco I’m sending you back.

Oliver: …mom? That’s you, right?
Abigail: Yeah. Let me get you something for that… skin condition you’ve got there. Try not to slough off on anything.

Your first worldly act after resurrection is gonna be playing with ants?

Oliver: I’ve developed a certain sympathy for tiny creatures susceptible to the whims of more powerful beings.

Hahah, yeah, got you killed good didn’t I.

So… Oliver.

Abigail: It was the life and death equivalent of an impulse buy, I dunno.

Oliver: …HOW MANY of my friends and family are dead?!

Oh god, Abigail, don’t let him see the internet…

Abigail: It’s easier than telling him that the girlfriend who killed him is a wanted serial killer and the one he had before that burned to death.

Hahaha what? I don’t even remember that last one.

Stephen: Sounds like somebody needs some flowers.

Oliver: Hey! A weird science thing!

Pretty much everything in your mom’s house is that right now.

Abigail: I caught Apple designers going through my garbage once.

Clay: So everytime I come home I swing extra close to it, in hopes of picking one off.

♪ She blinded me with science ♪

Brooke: That sounds irresponsible. Was she testing shampoo on him?

Abigail: Hey there, Brock! I’d like to introduce you to my son!
Brooke: It’s Brooke.
Abigail: Um, no, it’s Oliver. Brooke would be a pretty stupid son’s name, don’t you think?

Brooke: Well ANYWAY, what’s he like?
Abigail: He’s… round. And he eats a lot. Right now I’m trying to get him on a… different diet.

Abigail: He’s a zombie and I need him cheered up so the cure will work.

Brooke: You’re gonna pay me to date your son?!
Abigail: Yeah, ‘cuz I’ve met him.

Abigail: I will pay you a bunch and let you live in my house.
Brooke: You had me at the first bribe, but you’ve quadruple got me now!

Brooke: I’ll totally still take your money, though.

Abigail: He probably likes redheads, not blondes.
Brooke: For this much money and actual shelter, I’ll dye my pubic hair for him!

Abigail: I hope you mean it, ‘cuz he probably likes natural redheads.

Abigail: What’s Stephen’s number?

Ember’s number. They live in her old house.

Abigail: But is there a specific number I can call to not talk to the whore who stole my husband?

Abigail: Hey. Oliver’s alive again. Yeah. I dunno. Your dick made me do weird stuff last night.

Stephen: You might be sick. Hey, you know Victor Cwik? The Police Chief?
Abigail: That hunky chunk of man-flesh?

Abigail: He’s right, I’m sick.

Oliver: I can top that.

Next time: childhood shenanigans.

Like childhood itself, they are mercifully brief.

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