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!
I just discovered that I never finished Chapter 185.
HAVE CHAPTER 186 INSTEAD
IT’LL BE FINE
Getting younger by the minute.
Brooke: Make this face.
Brooke: No, like I’m doing. Prettier.
Clay: There’s nothing wrong with my face, is there?
Abigail: Don’t ask a geneticist about genetics if you don’t want your heart broken.
Clay: I wasn’t listening, but I assume the answer was “no.”
Clay: Hey, pretty lady.
Oliver: SHE’S MINE
Brooke: Wow! Two different kinds of anachronistic chauvinism, both for me!
Oliver: Your chest bumps are nice.
Oliver: Clay’s working on his chest bumps now.
Clay: ALL FOR YOU BABY
Got a name for your book yet?
Abigail: “The Science of Science.”
That doesn’t make any sense.
Abigail: Spoken like a non-scientist.
Abigail: I had to take an online course in Sciencology to write this. And there wasn’t one, so I had to do some research and teach it to myself.
I’d be worried about accidentally getting a Scientology course.
Abigail: Yeah, that was a wasted month. Although the stuff about volcanoes and aliens was pretty cool.
Brooke: You can let go when he’s gone.
Brooke: Seriously though, the things dudes do to get fit.
Oliver: I know, right?
Brooke: Do those things.
Oliver: OOH ME BACK
Brooke: Did it just notice your stomach?
Abigail: It’s a real breakthrough, realizing nobody who reads your work is as smart as you.
Kelly: I get all my law information from the paper.
Ah, the “My Cousin Vinny” approach.
Brooke: WE’RE OUTSIDE NOW
Oliver: HAHAHA CRAZY
Brooke: All this rain feels like slobber down my neck.
Oliver: It’s not all rain.
Brooke: Well, then, let’s put that slobber to good use!
Oliver: Your lips taste like cherry.
Brooke: I made out with some ice cream earlier.
Brooke: I know, right?! Gold.
Oliver: You made out alright.
Clay: .oO(There’s no way that jet fuel could have vaporized the plane.)
Clay: .oO(I need to get laid.)
That’s the sex rug.
Brooke: Would you use the sex rug with me if I asked?
Oliver: I might ask you first…
Oliver: Because yes, I would do the sex with you.
Brooke: All of the sex?
Oliver: All of the sex I know of, at least.
Oliver: Which is mostly just kissing.
Oliver: I can’t see anything. Tree’s in the way.
Brooke: This only needs to be romantic from my perspective.
Abigail: There. Rewrote the basic rules of science as we know it! Not bad for an afternoon.
Abigail: Now watch me throw my shoulder out.
Abigail: Now my arm’s stuck in “BUT WAIT!” mode forever. WHICH IS AWESOME.
Clay: I HATE BURNT TOAST
Abigail: You knew that thing had a two-stroke motor in it! We were about due for the first stroke.
Clay: I refuse to admit that anything is wrong with me.
Abigail: And that’s why women live longer.
In fairness, you live longer because you’re immortal and he won’t live much longer because I hate him.
Now what are you doing.
Abigail: Constructing a miniaturized manufactory.
In your garbage compactor.
Abigail: It’s already have-stocked with raw material! Some of it very raw.
I typed “have” instead of “half.”
And I think that’s weird.
So I didn’t fix it.
This Guy: I brought your stupid book I guess.
Clay: Someone’s at the door.
Abigail: I’m up to my armpits in garbage, Clay.
Clay: Dare I turn around?
Clay: How about I do a little dance while you work?
Abigail: It’ll speed me up, that’s for certain.
Clay: When you get an electric shock, the only cure is MORE ELECTRIC SHOCK.
Oliver: You get the feeling the Maker forgot us out here?
Brooke: I blame the Oliver factor.
Oliver: Time was, people considered me a main character.
Brooke: Real people, or the ones in your head with you?
Oliver: I like how you just say whatever you’re thinking.
Brooke: I’m gonna run for President.
Oliver: Ew, on the Republican ticket?
Brooke: You know a better way to self-destruct the conservative machine?
Clay: I’ve got an idea!
Abigail: Oh, pray do tell.
Clay: You could do something that doesn’t involve garbage.
Abigail: I’ve got some heavy-duty science in mind and I need certain equipment.
Clay: All I’m saying is that if you’re not making Mr. Fusion I’m gonna be hella disappointed.
Oliver: That’s the constellation Amatores, the Lovers.
Brooke: Pretty sure that’s just Victus, the Loser.
Abigail: That’s that. Now to just set the program, and extract the form-wrappable polymer nanoconstruct!
Abigail: You can’t see it, but it’s a thin film over my entire body right now.
Clay: Like the revulsion I’m feeling at that description?
Abigail: Yes, I like it very much!
Clay: Ha ha.
Clay: Can’t you set up your nanny polly formy-wormy out here?
Abigail: When you reach my age you get a keen sense of the dramatic.
Abigail: And good science is all about good drama.
That is one hot drama!
Clay: Please tell me you can fuck with that on.
Clay: Because my body is ready.
Abigail: Sorry buddy, this suit doesn’t interface with older models.
Abigail: It provides support, too!
LIke you need it.
Abigail: Right, but the illusion might make some ugly chicks feel better.
Abigail: Okay, next project!
“The Pants of Ants”?
Abigail: Go fuck yourself.
Clay: I’M SO TORN! I mean, ripped.
Abigail: Ha. Ha.
Clay: I’m Rip Torn! No seriously my stomach is what is happening to my stomach.
Abigail: Nobody cares.
Clay: Is it okay if I put my dick in your hat?
Clay: I’m just saying it would make me feel manly.
Brooke: I can’t believe we’re making jokes about hat crimes.
I typed “were” instead of “we’re.”
So I fixed it.
Because that’s awful.
Oliver: I can’t believe we’re doing wordplay with hate crimes.
Oliver: I can’t believe that my girlfriend is so hot I can’t see this naked dude at all!
Clay: I can’t believe it either, but your girlfriend sure gives me a woody.
Clay: You deserved to hear that, you liittle perv.
Oliver: Punch your dick off next time.
Clay: Ooh yeah baby, put that down there.
Brooke: If this seems phallic to you, you’ve got body image problems.
Oliver: It’s hard not to in a house with you.
Brooke: It’s okay that you’re dumpy and plain, Oliver. I see what really matters.
Oliver: My kind heart?
Brooke: Your mom’s collection of ray guns.
Oliver: Ridin’ the nepotism special all the way to Poon Town.
Brooke: If my body is the country, Poon Town would be more like Poon Megalopolis. Comparatively speaking.
Brooke: You know, assuming this metaphor needs to go any further.
Okay, so what’s it really called?
Abigail: It’s about nature. Guess.
WELL NOW I’D FEEL STUPID SAYING IT
I’m not even joking. Full-on oscitation going on right now.
Clay: Testify, brother.
Abigail: “The Nature of Nature.”
And that one’s not half bad, really.
Abigail: If it’s not half bad, which single word offends you?
You ever think about marketing that suit?
Abigail: There’s some people I just never want to see delineated this precisely.
Some Maxis Sims can pass for non-Maxis Sims. Their friends will likely shun them as class traitors, though.
..and some non-Maxis Sims are probably still doomed when the purge comes.
Six hundred chapters from now.
Brooke: Please explain what that mirror’s doing.
Oliver:NO! MY EYES!
Oliver: I wanna give you a BIG HUG!
Brooke: I’m happy with just the sentiment.
Brooke: So is your mom big into astronomy?
Oliver: We used to have “Your Mom is So Damn Smart” nights in our house. She’d take us outside and name the stars.
Oliver: As in, find new ones and give them actual names.
Oliver: My favourite is the one she named after Andrew’s first bowel movement.
Brooke: That’s enough of you for now.
I really couldn’t agree more.
Next time: what this time was supposed to be.