The Sharpesvale Chronicles, Chapter 498

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.

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In which brevity is attempted.

You will come to resent its absence.

Wren: Brevity had better mean “men in their briefs.”

Wren: Working under that assumption, I have selected one.

Nick: Hello, you’ve reached Nick Sharpe-Enriquez. If you are not a woman, please press whatever makes your phone hang up. Beep! I mean, do it at the beep. Beep!

Wren: I think you’ve been indoors too long.

Wren: Or maybe you’re going rich-crazy.
Nick: Rich-crazy?
Wren: All rich people go nuts. Known fact.

Wren: Are you excited?
Nick: About what?
Nick: Are we gonna be in the big one?
Wren: Probably not.
Nick: Are things going to change after it?
Wren: Probably not.
Nick: Then I think you have, and have twice said, my answer.

Wren: I love men who let me speak for them.

Nick: Oh, bitches love that?
Wren:what did you call me?

Wren: Your tongue is going to have to apologize. To my tongue.

Wren: My tongue is my apologies department.

Wren: Do I detect something of a manic tone in today’s writing?

I’ve written a lot of crazy shit today.

You’ll see on Friday.

Nick: My tongue is here! I brought my me with it.

Nick: I am just CRUSHING this nonsensical dialogue angle!

Wren: You know, your dad fucked my mom.
Nick: Yes, but in fairness, my dad and your mom fucked EVERYBODY.

Wren: I propose them as role models.

Nick: I propose us as sequels.

Nick: Butlers die a lot.

Nick: Oh, apparently I’m talking about something else.

Wren: Were those even your memories?
Nick: At this point I think we’re all just accessing one mushy corner of a vast, untamed memory-marsh.

Nick: Because our neighbourhood files are FUUUUUCKED

Nick: We should join them.

Nick: In fuuuuuucking.


Nick: It’s when we both kiss the air.

Wren: Against its will.

Nick: Most human interactions with air are against its will.

Remember: silence, or even a vague rustling of the leaves, a gentle scent of pine on the breeze, is not consent.

Wren: Our creator is a crazy liberal.
Nick: Not crazy because he’s a liberal…
Wren: …or liberal because he’s crazy!
Nick: WELL.

Wren: …right, I forgot, you’re rich.

Nick: Yeah, us rich are the worst.

Wren: I dunno, you’re doing pretty well for myself!

Wren: I look forward to the day when every line of dialogue is self-reflexive nonsense.

Then why are you forestalling it?

Wren: You’re right, I should put my mouth where his dick is.

Nick: We’re amenable!

Wren: I’m surprised you know that word.
Nick: What word? I was speaking in tongues.

Wren: It does taste foreign!

Nick: Is this… like… just your house, now?
Wren: You mean… is it also actually a giant living being, or a theme park, or…?

Wren: Oh, you mean do I live here, alone, surrounded by the detritus of other people’s lives, which I can neither appreciate nor divest myself of? Yeah, haha, that.

Wren: “Divest myself of.”

Yeah, now YOU’RE speaking in tongues.

Wren: Shouldn’t that have been Nick’s line?

Wren: …there’s no more Nick, is there.

Wren: Apparently there was no more that entire day.

Wren: Luckily I have become a creative prodigy via text.

Wren: I shall add it to my other accomplishments.

Wren: Which are mostly all of a kind.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: Speaking of kind…


Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: You know what would be kind of nice? Fucking you.

Franklin: Fucking right.

Franklin: Is there anything I should know about you?
Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: Depends on your definition of should.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: Actually the answer would be “yes” either way.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: But in lieu of actual information, here is… a frozen rose, I guess.
Franklin: Oh god, that poor thing.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: It’s fine! More ways to hurt yourself on it, now.

Franklin: That IS the defining characteristic of roses!

Franklin: And love.

Franklin: …I’ve heard.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: Every rose has its GRABBING YOUR ASS

Franklin: I have NOT heard THAT!

Franklin: But I’m happy to feel it.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: Feel and let felt, that’s my motto.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: OH YEAH BABY, FEEL MY FELT

Franklin: Your dress is made of felt?
Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: I like the way it used to feel.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: You ARE tripping balls today!
Franklin: Come on, baby, trip my balls.

Oh my god.

I can’t tell if this is Leonard or Oliver.

Which means I can’t give him dialogue.

Which means he can’t help!

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: I mean, if he doesn’t help, he didn’t help. This is all pre-destined.
Franklin: You don’t believe in free will?
Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: Maybe I did back in 2013, when this is/was HAPPENING

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: Please don’t say anything, Schrödinger’s Murphy.

Franklin: Yeah, just sit there and look generic.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: You know, you were never anybody’s favourite.
Franklin: Not even mine!

Franklin: I still feel like there’s something off here. Are you married, or something?
Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: That’s a “no” to “are you married,” and a “yes” to “are you something.

Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: Not that you really needed me to tell you that second one.

Bradleigh: I’m home! What’re we up to?


Bradleigh: WHAT

Bradleigh: Hey, which one are you?



Bradleigh: I know! We’ll look up the last chapter for this household and see who was sitting there when it ended!


Bradleigh: You’re that desperate to get some fuckin’ in this one?

Franklin: Don’t worry!
Beatriz Young the Nice Witch: We’ve got it covered!

I just want to remind you that my last “Next time” said “the bird and the Beatriz.”

As in Wren and Beatriz.



This time next time: the titty on the edge of forever.

This chapter depicts gameplay from 19 February 2013.

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