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!
Okay, now this has got to be my shortest chapter.
It’s so short, it’s only as long as most other people’s stories.
Last time in the Clover County Chronicles…
The hardest part is making the pic look as shitty as a 90s jpeg.
I have no idea what to do with you.
Worship seems somehow appropriate.
Ally: Fuck it.
Ally: And bury it.
I’d ask you what you’re doing, but I bet I’d need another pregnant woman to translate.
Deborah: Finally, someone pathetic enough to be my friend!
Ally: Or am I?
No. No, you’re not.
Vivian: Hey sexy lady! Way to un-sexy yourself.
Ally: I didn’t do all of this.
Ally: This, though, this was all me.
If this is a performance art piece, your career will never recover from it.
Achilles heel of the TS2 engine.
Ally: Life gives you flies, you make-
Tell me those aren’t flybugers.
Ally: -hamburgers. What the fuck are you on about?
Ally: Life gives you flies, you make hamburgers. Pretty sure that’s how it goes.
Yeah, don’t look directly at the catatrophe.
Richard: This isn’t a lawn, it’s a cry for help.
Ally: In other news I am now Lady of the Flies apparently
Ally: I think they laid eggs in my eyes.
Ally: Among other places.
Ally: A good insecticide brush should help!
Ally: Damn I’m cute.
Yeah, you’re perpetually wasted, I’m sorry.
Ally: I can’t get wasted when I’m pregnant.
No, I mean, I’m wasting you.
Ally: You’d get a pregnant girl wasted?!
Roger: Get out of that sunshine, townie bitch. Paying homeowners only.
Ally: Come on flies, pick up that plate! I’m too fat.
Ally: Oh noooooo those were flyburgers!
Quick, flies! Escape in these conveniently-placed vehicles!
Jill: I sure hope I get used better than her.
You get used more, anyway…
Ally: WHY WOULD I DO THIS TWICE
Ally: Hello there, little guy or girl! I’m not checking.
Does it have a name?
Ally: Dunno. Not keeping it.
Ally: Garbage goes on floor.
Sorry buddy/babe, can’t give you lines without a name.
Ally: Garage sale time!
Yep, we’re done already.
Next time: hoors.