The Clover County Chronicles, Chapter 193

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 whenever I damn well please!

Click Here for Previous Entries!

Connect Four!

This journal last updated… today! This is the fourth update I’ve done so far. Make sure to read Chapters 190, 191, and 192 first!

Right, so, yeah.

This is happening now.

Grugly Prime: I have happened!

Grugly Prime: In this happening place. Which is not where “The Happening” is happening. So don’t kill yourself on my account.

Grugly Prime: Unless you’re ugly.

Hey man. How’s it going?

Grugly Prime: Like you don’t know!

Well anyway. This is Grugly Prime.

Grugly Prime: No shit? They already read that beside my lines!

Grugly Prime is me, and he’s not me. He’s an avatar of sorts.

Grugly Prime: I never even saw that movie.

Neither did I.

Grugly Prime: WELL DUH

Grugly Prime: What the hell are you starin’ at.

Grugly Prime: oh god it’s a girl

What were we doing here?

Grugly Prime: Some NPC fuckery.

Oh good.

Can’t wait to see how that turned out.

Grugly Prime: Here’s a taste!


NOW what are we doing.

Grugly: Setting up the SCIA storyline! You know, the big one! Where ENTROPY-


Let’s change the channel.

And here we see the Newcastle Family. In its entirety.

‘cuz there is no Newcastle Family.

Chief: .oO(Wait a minute. Then why am I still here?)

Because the nearest police station is in Centreborough.

Chief: .oO(I can get a few more good licks in, then.)

Jake Fairchild: None of us likes getting the call.

A brother or sister in arms, cut down in the line of duty?

Jake: Somebody’s dog needs picking up.



Chief: .oO(I knew there was a reason I hated those!)

Chief: .oO(I want a report on my desk by midday, sergeant!)

Jake: I wanna lecture somebody but everyone’s dead.

Jake: So… you should feel real bad about this! House.


Big whoop.

Oh christ.

I hate reading these.

YES I write them for every household.

YES I update them regularly.

YES all the old ones are PRECISELY this lame.

On the bright side, this is a fantastically framed image.

Michael: It’s framing some pretty fantastic stuff, too!


Brenda: If you want to quietly shove his corpse into the fridge I will neither blame nor report you.

Michael: Was that to me or the butler?
Brenda: Shit, you heard that? Keep the motor on, honey, we might have a runner.

Brenda: Anthony! Anthony Anthony Anthony.
Anthony: Well! If it isn’t old Three Times Brenda.

Michael: Drive. Please. NOW.

Brenda: So yeah, I pretty much get paid to do this.

Veronica: Kiss me, you fool.

Brenda: Jeeeeesus. And I just saw a cop driving around out there, too.

Anthony: Oh, the one with that killer mutt in the backseat? Yeah, you’d better lay low.

Brenda: I’m not the one getting come-ons from a baby HEY YOU’RE DOING MY JOB

Brenda: Well alright, but union rules require a replication of labour.

Anthony: Here is the first of two bottles, Veronica. I want you to remember that the one which does not make you throw up came from Butlers Local 65535.

Veronica: I ain’t drinkin’ no old man juice.

Anthony: Is she to build a fort from these?

Brenda: She can spin on them for all I care.

Anthony: That might be funny to see.

Veronica: help

Brenda: Here you go, my exploding little friend!

Brenda: We might be taking this too far.
Anthony: Have you seen the actuarial tables for NPCs around here? We’re only gonna get this one chance to murder a kid.

Anthony: Pff, nice try kid. You’re gonna need longer legs than that to outrun a tired old man.

Anthony: Time to suck the marrow from your bones!

Veronica: You guys are funny.
Anthony: Be sure to explain that to the arresting officer.

Brenda: God help me if I start finding him attractive.

Veronica: Maybe you should just pour that one right into the potty.


It’s keyless.


The service NPCs have her. And anyway she’s your daughter.

Poppy: And this is why it always ends up being the fucking paper.

Brenda: Man, no wonder the fifties sucked so bad.

Gee, it’s a good thing there’s no cleaning work you could be doing here.

Anthony: It’s not her fault. She’s not a nanny, she’s a nana. Lots of people make that mistake.

Brenda: I’m gonna stick this in the computerbox and see what comes out!

Oh, nana!

Anthony: For the last time, Brenda, this is a microwave.
Brenda: Don’t feed me that googlebit nonsense!

Anthony: The spatters are almost Pollock-esque.

Brenda: Oh my, who’s the silver fox with the stoop?!

Veronica: Do something with me!
Anthony: Never give a man that much latitude!

Brenda: Man, she blended up real good!

Brenda: Let’s put whatever we don’t use into those bottles.

Brenda: I’ve got the gristle in this baggie here.

Brenda: And the bones can go in the trash with the kitchen waste!
Anthony: I can’t help but think the natives would have had a use for them.

Anthony: Hey, at least we saved him money on tuition!

Anthony: His wife was college educated, she’ll understand that the world’s overpopulated and we need to find novel new food sources.

Aw dammit.

I was hoping we’d go longer without a pic of her.

Veronica: Well excuse ME if I have to obey the HARSH DICTATES OF TIME.
Anthony: They are pretty harsh.

Veronica: I’m finally getting out of this teddy suit!

Yeah, you’re heading into that awkward middle period where it’s not okay for you to wear any sort of teddy.

Veronica: -uses her mind to float the toy boat in front of her-

Now you see it too.

…she’s like a female Michael with the best bits from the Sharpes.

And the worst clipping I have ever seen.

Anthony: Woo! Records all across the board!

Brenda: You couldn’t have told me she was growing up?
Anthony: I thought the passage of time went without explaining, Brenda.

Yay! Observation platform!

With an observation window so even if you can’t prevent her from plummeting to her doom, you can at least get a good view of it.

Brenda: I don’t feel any looser in this chair.
Anthony: Damn, I was really counting on that.

Veronica: Where’s the penis?
Anthony: What?!
Veronica: ‘cuz I really owe you guys a kick on that.

Anthony: …it’s up here. Where you can’t reach.

Michael: I’m not gonna correct that, and guys everywhere will thank me.

Yeah, I think this is a really important piece of misinformation to spread.

Anthony: Right, because if this world needs one thing it’s for women to lose their one ability to disable men.


Michael: Yes I’ll tell her.

Michael: Hey, is this Miss Custer? From the campaign office? Hi! I wanted to thank you for all your hard work in getting me elected congressperson.

You were WHAT

Michael: And by “thank you” I mean “engage in whatever series of actions is most likely to lead to us sleeping in the same bed tonight.”

Michael: No, that’s fine, keep your hair in single mom style. It’s kinda hot.

Anthony: Will sir be requiring me to prepare a chloroform cloth?
Michael: Did we not just have a thoughtful discussion about violence against women?
Anthony: I meant for her, sir, in case you get rowdy.

Anthony: And bravo, sir, for moving on with your life!
Michael: Thanks! It’s a huge pay increase.
Anthony: I meant moving on from your sordid past, sir.
Michael: I know! I hated slumming it in local politics, but you do what you gotta do to get ahead.

Anthony: I meant congratulations on not romancing lesbians anymore, sir.
Michael: Oh that! Well withhold judgement until you see this chick’s hair.

Michael: I’ll tell you tomorrow if the carpet matches the drapes.
Anthony: A paragon of class as always, sir.

Jill: How the fuck would the carpet match this.

Michael: I keep forgetting people can read previous captions.

Jill: So now I discover that my boss wants to pull his train into my station?

Michael: Maybe not, since I just discovered that my employee dresses like an extra from The Road Warrior in her spare time!

Jill: I haven’t seen whatever that is. I was going for Mad Max.

Michael: You are a tragedy in human form.

Michael: Okay, so you’re too young for my movies. That’s fine. Do they still have sex in your generation, or is there an app for that?

Michael: ‘cuz your bland whiteness is really appealing to mine.

Jill: Just because you’ve got money doesn’t mean you can boss me around, buddy! You also need cologne.

Anthony: Have you looked in her pants yet, sir?

Anthony: Oh my, was this meant to be our little secret? Dear me.

Anthony: Should we tell her that I bleached the last remnants of your former wife’s sexual excretions from the bedsheets this morning, at least?
Michael: Why are you doing this.
Anthony: The same reason any man my age does anything, sir!

Anthony: Because you are young, and I hate you.

Michael: How about we call in a bomb threat and blame it on him? Cops love them some elder abuse.

Michael: Gonna play along?
Jill: It’s not my preferred method of making headlines…

Jill: I was just hoping to blackmail you with a sex scandal.
Michael: YIKES. It’s like you were MADE for me.

Anthony: Don’t you look at her like that, you filthy old man!

Michael: Gimme your boobs!

Jill: But they’re mine!

Michael: I will pay you for them.

Jill: Yes you will.

Jill: Seriously though, we are flirting right?
Michael: We can’t be flirting right or that lovely corset would already be relieved of its burden!

Jill: You want to see what’s underneath?
Michael: I mean I’m aware of what it is, I just want to make a visual inspection.

Jill: I’m not sure I can trust a politician to keep this under wraps.
Michael: I do think you’re too wrapped up right now, that’s true.

Jill: Alright, you’ve passed the wordplay portion of the test.
Michael: I hope there isn’t a highway section, I always get road rage.

Jill and Michael: I’m dressed up like I know you want.

Michael: How did you know I like formal wear?
Jill: You kept staring nervously at your crotch at the correspondents dinner. How did you know I wanted to see you in your underwear?
Michael: Who doesn’t?

Jill: I’d say me, but my rising colour is already making a liar out of me.

Michael: Man, and to think I had to have a kid with a lesbian before I met a girl like you!
Jill: Was she a lesbian already, or did you do that to her? ‘cuz I don’t wanna lose my taste for dick, you know.


Anthony: It’s subtle, but I’m great with nuance and shit.

Anthony: Now stare at her tits and see if she complains. Then you’ll know you’re in!

Jill: Please tell me you’re doing that to humour him.
Michael: He has so little joy in his life, please just give him this.

Michael: You know I wouldn’t stare longingly at your chest if there were any other way.

Michael: Okay, honesty time. Are we or are we not the perfect couple?
Jill: This was established already. William and Rosemarie are the perfect couple.
Michael: Um, no? They’re the pluperfect couple. They’re just fuckin’ ridiculous.


Five percent of the time, they work fifty percent of the time.

Veronica: I’m gonna be an astronomer!

You can be anything you want, kid.

Veronica: What, seriously?! But I’m a girl! That’s not very realistic!

Jill: My eyes are glazing over.
Michael: Hugs do that.

Michael: You’ll have to guide me, I can’t see shit through this glaze.

Michael: I’m taking you at your word that this is a boob massage.

Jill: I can’t see how this relationship won’t work out perfectly!

Neither can I!

And yet, well…

Veronica: Oops, that’s no good. Star crossed.

Michael: I’m sure you have a very good reason for still being here, Anthony.
Anthony: No, not really! Just cramping your style is all, sir.

Pretty chaste for a dude in his underwear.

Michael: Says the guy who hasn’t been laid since-


Michael: Have you been properly introduced to Anthony yet? Maybe if we all greet him, we can ungreet him.

Anthony: Any excuse to stare down a pair like that!

Jill: Are you bipolar or something?
Anthony: Nah, I just act differently at night. Like most Pokémon games.

Anthony: And also I film voyeur porn flicks with this bear camera.

Jill: I’m ready for my closeup, Mr. Benson.

Anthony: Okay, don’t panic. They know your last name. But they don’t know you can garrote them both with the same shoelace in the time it takes them to say Togepi.

Anthony: Or yeah, I could just film you having sex. That works too.

Anthony: Was it something I said?
Michael: Was it everything you said?

Michael: I almost had her. I just need to bone up on my strategy games.

Jill: To keep it fair I’ll avert my eyes.

Michael: I hope he at least got some kissing footage on that bear.

Michael: I’m gonna need some good sad jerkoff material after I finish this speech about why we can’t afford to fund homeless shelters downtown.

Michael: The trick is to blame the victims, I find.

Ah, the unsung heroes of everyday politics.


Looks pretty white to me.

What are the odds that I haven’t made that joke already?

Not good.

Poppy: Look at that bland, featureless exterior. You’d never know this wall was a cold-hearted killer.

Chris: Should I hit you with another pillow and see if it’s a serial killer?

Poppy: Hey, did you know that fifty percent of all lesbians find me irresistible?
Brittany: Yeah. ‘cuz I can resist you, you don’t count, and there’s only two other ones.

Brittany: Oh, hey Officer Spring! What can I do for you?
Penny: The department handed down some arrest quotas, sorted by minority. I was hoping one of you might have done something illegal. Some depraved lesbian thing? I’m not being intolerant, that’s the actual wording in the memo.

Brittany: I once blackmailed a TA by saying I’d tell the school she and I were having a sexual relationship if she didn’t raise my grades.
Penny: Ooh, that might work!
Brittany: Of course, she was nose deep in my muff at the time, and the only reason my grades were low was because she didn’t want to show favouritism. Hello? Hello?

Poppy: Hey, cops are fair game. They’ll believe anything from a woman as long as it only gets women in trouble.

In other news, here lies twenty percent of last year’s lesbian population.

Brittany: Hey, you want a crime? Hook me up with some MRA guy and I’ll stick a vibrator up his ass or something.

Poppy: I think I chose well.

Again I find myself wondering why what’s going to happen is going to happen.

Brittany: I won’t even ask.


Hey, sorry, I’m already off the hook.

Poppy: And what are you looking at, murderer?!

Poppy: Okay yes, I know it’s weird, but come on! How often do lesbians invite you over to their lesbian house?!

Poppy: Lesbian Frankenstein monsters you made don’t count.

Brittany: This promises to be an entertaining evening.

Still mad at Michael, huh?

Poppy: What? No. I’m thinking about burning a “No Marriage” sign.

Andrew: Oh baby you’re unattractive!

Brittany: They sent you that MRA douche.

Chris: Pretty sure this is a university now.

Andrew: I assume you invited me over here for reasons other than tarring all men with the same brush.
Brittany: Aww, poor middle class white male, can’t take a little persecution!
Poppy: I think I know you from before I knew me.

Brittany: And you’re hoping to jumpstart memories of… tickling him? Or something?
Poppy: Nah, he just looked really ticklish.

Andrew: Maybe if you tell me what you do remember, I can help you figure out who you were!
Poppy: I remember… people… fighting?
Andrew: Okay, well, so far we’ve got you narrowed down to being one of about this entire neighbourhood’s worth of people.

Poppy: I remember a dude? Who became a zombie? But I don’t remember if he was a zombie when I knew him.
Andrew: Wow, we are just blasting through this process of elimination!

Poppy: Let’s see if I remember this.

Poppy: Mm. No. And I would definitely have remembered it, had it happened.

Andrew: Oof! So we’re assuming you weren’t a lesbian in your past life?
Poppy: Oddly enough, I hear there might not be a binary!

Poppy: It’s almost like people are sorta complicated.

Andrew: You… definitely seem to be.

Brittany: Wow! Any smaller and it’d be almost HD!

Andrew: Your girlfriend… is just… downstairs.
Poppy: What’s the worst thing that could happen? She finally breaks out a second facial expression?

Andrew: Whew. I guess somebody’s been repressing a lot of AAAAAGH AAAAAGH AAAAAGH MY ARM’S IN THE WALL

Andrew: Come to think of it, that whiny girl voice is kinda familiar.

Poppy: Okay, that’s it. I’m gonna bitch the bitch out.

Poppy: Yeahbitch, what’s up? Me? Just chillin’ with my muffmuffin.

Brittany: Fifteen years of university for that nickname.

Brittany: Call me a disappointment, my entire family?

Brittany: Hey. Any luck with the axehole?
Poppy: I told you about the axes? Anyway nah, her mouth’s shut tight like an ugly girl’s cooch. I’m currently trying to see which sperm donors I might have been dating back before I was an awesome lesbian.

Brittany: Instead of chasing all these pointless leads, maybe you should date someone you actually like.

Poppy: Pretty dangerous talk for a dormie who finally got a life thanks to my identity crisis.

Brittany: Yes, because what I have right now is definitely a life.

Brittany: Hello, operator? Hook me up with anybody who only calls girls.

Brittany: “Lainey”? What kind of a gay-ass name is that? Not nearly gay-ass enough, let me tell you!


Lainey: Nobody does 🙁

Cookie Clicker.

Brittany: Well if it isn’t Miss Opportunity!

Poppy: No, look, I get it. You want a relationship.
Brittany: What am I, a high school drama student? I want tongue, stupid.

Brittany: Newsflash Pop-tart: I’ve always been a cheerleader. I could teach Sappho a few things.

Brittany: With just my pinky.

Poppy: You make a convincing case for lesbianism, Brit.
Brittany: Men make a better one.

Yeah, hopefully science will allow us to die out.

Oh, get over it.

Drink some of your own milk of human kindness already.

I think the world would be a lot prettier if it was just women.

It might smell a lot better, too.

Then again, there’s still the matter of cow farts.

The number one cause of global warming, according to nine out of ten insane old Republicans!

Next time: at least one reader’s least-favourite character.

Tune in to see if it’s yours!

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