The Sharpesvale Chronicles, Chapter 293

Welcome to the Sharpesvale 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!

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The [Zombie] Queen is dead.
Long dead the [Zombie] Queen.

Michael: You should make friends with Poppy.
Jewel: Why?
Michael: Because she’s my wife?
Jewel: See, there’s already a mark against her!

Poppy: Are you sure it’s appropriate to dress that way around the house?
Jewel: Well I’m not gonna go around naked, perv!

Veronica: Why not?
Jewel: You’re too young to be a perv, dammit!

Jewel: The more pervs I meet the more I like my pot.

You fucking moron.

Veronica: Let’s talk about feces.

No, no, that’s too steep to be a proper Nazi salute.

Poppy: It’s called a “Roman Salute.”


By Nazis.

Anthony: Is she pooping, or what?

Michael: I MIGHT

Jewel: Wow, she looks even grosser bent over!

Poppy: Look, Veronica! A new baby brother!
Veronica: Doesn’t exist if I don’t acknowledge it.

This is Brett

No, wait, that’s Brett Newcastle.

This is…

Poppy: Vincent! His name is Vincent!

Vincent Whittaker, that’s right! All these ugly babies look the same to me.


I take it back, those devil eyes are boss.

Poppy: He’s gonna be a shit disturber, mark my words!

Poppy: Okay, so now we just wait forever and he’ll eventually become a person.

Veronica: I’m excited for that!
Michael: Hit the triple speed button!

Anthony: I don’t think my hips can sustain that for long.

Anthony: Oh, hey, breakfast!

Jewel: That looks stupid. You look stupid.

Poppy: You get to sleep on the floor, Vincent, because sometimes life’s not fair.


Anthony: He has to learn sometime!

Anthony: Swim, little man! SWIM!

I don’t remember what he did, but I’m sure it was shitty.

Veronica: Is it my birthday?
Michael: Is it mine?!

Michael: I’m glad I have my Thinking Cap on for this.

Yeah, well, there’s a lot more where that came from, honey.

I don’t want to know what’s on the end of those thought bubbles.

Jewel: Veronica should take Vincent to school with her.
Poppy: What do you think of that idea, Michael?
Michael: Huh? Boobs?

Jewel: I bet I could rob him blind and he wouldn’t even notice.

I think he’d notice blindness, considering what he’s been looking at lately.

Poppy: I’m ancient but somehow don’t know how to dance!

Anthony: I think this one’s broken.

Poppy: She’s installing updates, let her restart on her own.

Michael: I thought you weren’t gay anymore?
Poppy: You also thought that was possible?

Veronica: .oO(Mommy teaches daddy how sexuality works.)

Michael: So, wait. You like guys AND girls? Is that even a THING?!

Poppy: You’re a progressive miracle, Michael.

Two fucking Sims go to Hawaii a hundred years ago and now everybody does THIS.

Michael: It’s fun!
Poppy: It’s playful!
Jewel: It’s sexy!


Michael: As a dyed-in-the-wool capitalist I can think of no finer act.

Jewel: You’re just pretending to look at the baby, aren’t you.
Michael: Well DUH

Poppy: No, BISEXUAL. It’s like “sexual” but with a “bi” in front.
Michael: So you weren’t calling yourself a bicycle?

Michael: We should have another kid.

Poppy: I disagree, but maybe we should practice just to be safe.

Veronica: I wish my parents weren’t attracted to each other.

Did you guys fuck all night?

Poppy: Not all night. We briefly got into an argument when he asked if bisexuality means I’m also attracted to animals.

Veronica: On the plus side I now have multiple recordings of my parents screaming variations on “YES” for nefarious purposes.

Michael: Ohhhhh don’t do this in front of her.
Poppy: It’s okay, I know you’re an unfaithful slut.

Poppy: And no, before you ask, having a mistress isn’t also bisexuality.
Michael: DAMMIT

Margaret: These things need more… features.

I can’t even tell which one is which.

Oh shit.

I think I told you the wrong names for them, too.

Luckily you don’t remember.


I don’t think it’s appropriate for someone who looks like Johnny Depp to be taking pictures of a primary school.

These might seem like filler pics but this photo later becomes one of the main characters of the entire story.

As far as you know.

Are you sure it’s the baby that’s keeping you up, and not the creepy nap supervisor?

What a lovely, well-balanced image!

Of a dude scrubbing a toilet.

Margaret: If it makes him want to clean, keep it up!

You should probably caption those.

William: I would, but I don’t even know their names now.


I’d be mad if I was irrelevant now too.

That’s Joshua.

The lawyer?

Roger: I’m Roger!

Nobody cares.

Roger: The mailman?

Nobody cares!

Roger: I care…

Stephen: After fifty kids I can do this with muscle memory.

You haven’t had fifty kids.

Stephen: But I bet you’re too lazy to figure out the actual number!


Project: Margaret Can’t Sleep Comfortably Anywhere is a success!

Margaret: Try not to kill the kids while I’m at work.
Stephen: They’re fair game when you come back, then?

Stephen: What you guys want on your pizza?

Stephen: Can you come over? I forgot how to babies.

Abigail: What about my current appearance suggests “nanny”?

Stephen: Right back atcha!

Stephen: I have no idea what to do with these things.

Stephen: Hey, did you hear? The Queen is dead.
Abigail: Long dead the Queen.

Abigail: Okay, babies. We need to get back into the newlywed mindset to handle this.

Abigail: I have an idea, and it’s just stupid enough to work!

Abigail: Is anything coming back to you yet?
Stephen: Not yet, but I have real faith that it will if we keep trying!

Stephen: Are you tapping your feet to a rhythm or are you getting impatient?
Abigail: It’s an impatient rhythm.

Abigail: I don’t see how this will help, we didn’t do it often.
Stephen: Believe in the process, Abigail!

Stephen: A good scientist commits to their experiment.

Abigail: Okay, now you need to replicate it.

Stephen: You don’t mean…
Abigail: I do.
Stephen: But…
Abigail: Uh-huh.

Stephen: Fine.

Stephen: But there are some serious methodological differences between these two studies!

Abigail: Ah, that hit the spot! Now I remember everything I ever knew about parenting.
Stephen: Me too!
Abigail: I didn’t know anything.
Stephen: Me either!

Stephen: But it sure was fun reminiscing.

Abigail: Yeah, it was alright.

Stephen: Let’s take the ones that match our chromosomes.

Stephen: Ooh, look baby! Hand! Do you like HAND?
Abigail: Fingers! Aren’t they NEAT?

Oh no, stop! If you do that they’ll have RIGHTS!

You’re blowing out the candle on their dumpsterability!

Stephen: These are babies, bud. They’re already considered sentient.

Bullshit! Sentience starts at THIRTY!

Now spike it through the window!

♪ I’m learning to fly / But I ain’t got wings ♪


♪ Coming down / Is the hardest thing ♪

Abigail: ♪ Now, the good old days / May not return. ♪

Stephen: ♪ And I don’t know / The words to this song. ♪

Fiona: Daddy!
Stephen: Baggage!

Felix: Mama?

Stephen: You need to use the baby mama before you graduate to the adult mama.

Abigail: Stop teaching them gibberish, Stephen.
Stephen: But one of them might run for president some day!

Felix: NOT the mama!

Abigail: Oh boy, a stillborn reference!

♪ We got a great big convoy ♪

Genetics by Picasso.

At least THIS ONE’s just UGLY.

Oh, good. You got a promotion to Calliope Player or something.

You might want to hang around outside for a few minutes more.

Stephen: Thanks for lending a hand, Abigail.
Abigail: Any time! Once. And this was that once.

Margaret: Oh, hey Ms. Young! What are you doing here?
Abigail: Your husband.

Margaret: He IS pretty doable.

Stephen: I hope YOU don’t expect this service.

Margaret: They’re a little young for anatomy lessons, Stephen.

Stephen: They’re little SHITS, is what they are.

Margaret: TRAINED shits, though!

Margaret: So, did you and Abigail have sex?


Stephen: What were you asking about?
Margaret: I forget.

Margaret: -did not forget-

I disagree.

Stephen: .oO(She looks less ducky from this angle.)

Margaret: So did you learn anything from Abigail?
Stephen: She showed me a really good bottle technique.

Stephen: Hey, are they supposed to be pulling their brains out their noses?

Next time: The Spy Who Kicked Me Off My Balcony.

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