Welcome to the Pine Valley Chronicles, an ongoing neighbourhood story in The Sims 2!
Warning: this journal may contain uncensored nudity, violence, profanity and sexual themes.
Updates on Friday every week, and sometimes on Tuesdays!
Oh, what’s that? You don’t miss me? Well, I can’t blame you. Only a jerk would end on a cliffhanger and then intentionally avoid updating all week to extend it.
Luckily, I love being a jerk.
Last time in the Pine Valley Chronicles…
Geez, William, what did you need women for? Surely your tongue could reach.
The Grim Reaper: YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND IS HEADING DOWNSTAIRS. IF YOU INTEND TO GET HIM KILLED, TOO, PLEASE DO SO BEFORE I DEPART. THE BOSS IS TRACKING MY MILEAGE.
You look pretty pleased with yourself.
Peter: And why shouldn’t I be? My greatest enemy’s wife just resurrected me, and I just shot him to death.
Peter: That calls for some serious TV.
Melanie: PLEASE don’t kill my fiancée! I don’t WANT to have to get a real job!
Melanie: Remember all the good times, Grimmy? Remember all those clients I sent your way?
The Grim Reaper: INDEED. THEY TOLD ME TO TELL YOU “HELLO,” BY THE WAY. AND THAT THEY’RE WAITING FOR YOU.
Melanie: Pleeease! Don’t take William away from me! Where am I gonna find another penis that big?!
The Grim Reaper: FINE. LET’S PLAY THIS STUPID SHELL GAME.
The Grim Reaper: GUESS WHICH HAND THIS STUPID GLOWING THING IS IN, AND I’LL LET YOU HAVE YOUR PENIS BACK.
Melanie: What? Seriously?! That’s retarded!
The Grim Reaper: RIGHT, NOW TRY DOING IT FOR FOUR HUNDRED MILLION YEARS AND SEE IF IT DOESN’T MAKE YOU GRIM, TOO. YOU EVER TRY TO PLAY A SHELL GAME WITH AN OYSTER? IT DOESN’T GET THE POINT, AND IT CAN’T POINT. IT’S ENOUGH TO TURN YOUR BONES YELLOW, LET ME TELL YOU.
The Grim Reaper: NOW CHOOSE.
Melanie: How much time have I got left?
The Grim Reaper: LEFT IT IS.
Melanie: But… well, I mean… okay! Yeah! All right!
The Grim Reaper: NO CHANGING YOUR ANSWER!
Melanie: …was this rigged?
The Grim Reaper: A GUY SENDS ME THIS MUCH BUSINESS, I FIGURE I OWE HIM ONE.
Melanie: Well… I’m counting it as a win, anyway.
Of course. His penis would appear before the rest of him.
William: Holy shit!
Surprised to be back?
William: Nah, you can’t keep a bastard down really. It’s more that I just saw my entire circulatory system before I solidifed. Shit is wacky.
Melanie: Maybe I should hold onto this until I make sure he’s not mad at me.
William: Eat THAT, death!
The Grim Reaper: KEEP PUSHING AND I WILL, MORTAL.
The Grim Reaper: DON’T TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS. I DON’T WANT IT HURTING MY STREET CRED.
I can see you’re overcome with joy.
Melanie: It’s been a confusing day, alright?
Melanie: I’ll just… put this here, then, shall I?
William: Why don’t you just.
William: Thanks for coming back for me, Mel.
Melanie: You’re not angry?
William: What’s to be angry about? It’s my fault you resurrected Peter, because I resurrected you as such a bleeding-heart dumbshit.
Melanie: If I wasn’t such a bleeding-heart dumbshit, you’d be a bleeding-chest deadshit.
William: No, I think we should just agree that most of my problems are your fault.
William: Thankfully, most of the solutions are pretty basic.
Peter: The pool is open!
William: The pool is closed, bitch.
Peter: I know what this is. This is one of those lucid nightmares.
William: If it is, you should still be worried.
Peter: Why’s that?
William: Because you’re imagining my cock in such vivid detail.
Peter: How could I not? It’s flopping around so much it might as well be on the town billboards.
William: One day Captain Sparkles will have monuments in his honour. As for you…
Peter: Wait, wait, I’m just catching up here. Aren’t you dead…?
William: …you’ll be lucky if you get a cartoonish portrayal in my inevitable biopic!
Peter: At least don’t let them turn me into a funny animal! I hate those!
Peter: Also fuck you, fuck your penis, and fuck your zombie girlfriend.
William: Sure, why not. I was gonna do that anyway.
Peter: That… came out… wrong.
The Grim Reaper: DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE FINE FOR U-TURNING ON THE SPECTRAL PLANE IS? THE BOSS IS GOING TO TAKE IT OUT OF MY PAYCHECK NOW, I’M SURE.
William: Sorry about that. If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure it’s a one-way ticket for Peter the Lousy here.
Melanie: I knew you could do it, honey!
William: I’d already done it, honey, before you fouled everything up with that goddamn hellphone.
The Grim Reaper: IF YOU THINK THIS WAS BAD, WAIT’LL YOU GET THE MONTHLY BILL. GUESS WHAT? HELL IS LONG DISTANCE FROM EVERYWHERE. GO FIGURE.
William: Still, it did feel good to finally shoot the fucker.
Melanie: As good as it felt to shoot me?
William: Don’t be silly, Mel. No villain could ever hold a candle to you.
Melanie: It’s sweet of you to say so.
Peter: For fuck’s sake, at least throw me out or something.
Peter: Don’t fucking make me watch this! Piles of ash can’t throw up!
William: I have no gut, and I must puke.
Melanie: Look, I didn’t have time to brush my teeth, alright?!
Peter: Okay, okay, I got this. All I need to do is figure out how to grow arms.
Melanie: Where are we going?
William: We’re going to make sure our son doesn’t get saddled with a faggy name like “Lillard.”
Melanie: How do you know it’s gonna be a son? It could be a daughter.
William: Have you met my half-sister? If it’s a daughter, I’m going to kill it.
William: Well, Zombie Queen Melanie Lillard? Are you ready to become Unremarkable Housewife Melanie Sharpe?
Melanie: Not exactly feminist-friendly, is it?
William: Yeah, because eating all those brains was doing wonders for the image of women around here.
William: So answer me! Yes, or no?
Melanie: What the hell, right? Now I know I can kill you if we don’t get along, so there’s really no risk.
Melanie: “Hello? I’m looking to resurrect anyone. Because my husband killed everyone, and they’re all furious at him.”
William: After you turned them all into zombies.
Melanie: So we both end up dead. That’s probably where we’re headed anyway, isn’t it?
William: Probably. Melanie Lillard, will you be my Voldemort?
Melanie: Bullshit. You can be mine.
William: That works, you’ve got Daniel Radcliffe’s haircut already.
Melanie: We forgot to invite anybody.
William: No, I did that on purpose. All of my friends are ex-girlfriends.
Melanie: Don’t you lie to me, William.
William: Fine. All of my friends are current girlfriends.
Melanie: I’d be jealous, but keeping that thing in your pants would basically be a crime against Simkind.
I’m surprised there isn’t at least one bookie taking bets.
William: Me too.
So, if he’s not in there anymore… how do you still need to be milked?
Cowplant: .oO(I’ll tell you a secret: this game isn’t very well thought-out.)
William: Well, a promise is a promise.
“Cecilia”: You’re looking dapper.
William: Got married to Melanie.
“Cecilia”: I thought that was a cloud of doom hanging over your head, but it seemed rude to ask.
William: What’s she doing?
Ringing the doorbell.
William: Why? I’m right here.
Do you want to hear a secret that the cowplant shared with me?
“Cecilia”: That’s a hell of a way for a married man to greet his sister.
William: My sister was never that hot.
“Cecilia”: Maybe she was, and you just didn’t notice.
William: Think about who you’re talking to. I’d notice if my mother was hot, lady.
William: She was, incidentally.
“Cecilia”: You’re your own kind of charmingly horrific, William.
William: That’s what I put on all my business cards!
William: Anyway, I squished a giant plant into this tiny box for you.
“Cecilia”: Does this mean what I think it means?
William: Yep! And, bonus, I got Chelsea so pissed off at him that she’d never even dream of resurrecting him.
“Cecilia”: Wow! How did you manage it?
William: Well, for one thing, I told her he was flirting with you.
“Cecilia”: Gee, thanks. I can’t wait to have that conversation with her.
William: Just toss her a penis. She’ll spend all afternoon gnawing on it and forget what she was mad about.
“Cecilia”: I wish I’d stolen the identity of someone who could plausibly be dating you.
William: I wish you’d stolen Abigail’s. Then maybe my fucking garbage can would be upright once in a while.
“Cecilia”: You do have a habit of making enemies, don’t you?
William: Enemies are just friends with less patience.
“Cecilia”: And more guns.
William: Oh, I forgot, you haven’t met many of my friends.
“Cecilia”: Maybe I should, now that people can visit my house without dying.
William: You’d be surprised how much of an attraction that can be for some people.
“Cecilia”: My hero. Just like your father.
William: There you go again with the foreshadowing.
“Cecilia”: I think it’s backshadowing, actually. Or is it aftshadowing?
William: Let’s just say you’re shadowing and leave the details to the experts, okay?
“Cecilia”: Say hi to your wife for me, William. And congratulations! I bet you two are going to be really happy together.
William: Yeah. Yeah, that’s… totally what’s going to happen, alright.
Next time: disaster at the Apocalypse Museum! Kind of inevitable, really, with a name like that.
Don’t you think?