If the images in this chapter are broken, read it at gruglysims.ca instead!
In which fuck your lousy country.
Nick: Hahaha, yeah. What?
Bradleigh: Check the date. It's Simdependence Day!
Nick: He certainly is dependent on us.
Beatriz: Maybe I should cook up some fireworks.
Abigail: Any of you see a slut around here?
Bradleigh: Looks like you with a fresh coat of paint?
Abigail: MY PAINT IS FRESH
Beatriz: It could use some touching-up.
I'm still pretty pumped that a bit of makeup alllows me to create basically infinite differently-hot Abigails.
Beatriz: That sure sounds like sisters-on-the-way to me!
Nick: WE WANT MORE ABIGAILS
Abigail: I thought I wanted that too, 'til I got some.
Beatriz: YOU “got some”? Pff, when?
Abigail: WE HAVE THE SAME BRAIN SO YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN
Beatriz: If we have the same brain, shouldn't I not be able to rile you?
Beatriz: Theoretically? Mrs. Theory?
Abigail: Theory is my MIDDLE name!
Beatriz: I thought that was "Harriet."
Bradleigh: MY middle name is STANK.
Abigail: It is not.
Beatriz: I think we should let her have it.
Beatriz: I think we should let him have me.
Bradleigh: MEEE FIRRRRRRST
Beatriz: Oh, are we singing the Simerican national anthem?
Nick: “The Spot-Speckled Banana”? I don't remember all the words.
♪ Oh, yuck, do you think… we should throw this thing out ♪
♪ 'cuz it's flat, and it's grey, and it's not app-et-i-zing ♪
Abigail: Oh, is this song about you?
Beatriz: Your kids sure found me appetizing.
Oliver: You don't think maybe that's a seasonal pursuit, Nick?
Nick: If I suck hard enough, I can't even tell I'm freezing to death.
Beatriz: I'll bet I could out-suck him.
Abigail: You do really suck.
Abigail: But let's see if we can't redirect that sucking along more appropriate channels.
Beatriz: Suck my channel.
Abigail: That was the joke, yes.
Beatriz: Your joke sucked. Channels.
Stephen: .oO(God, I hope nobody asks me his name.)
Oliver: Hey dad. Have you seen Andrew, Franklin, Stewart or Leonard yet?
Stephen: .oO(Thank you, god.)
You're welcome.
Stephen: Also thank you for whatever that thing in there is.
Stephen: So, uh, your mom... did... something with her hair?
Alvin: How would you rate Stephen as a father?
Oliver: He doesn't rate.
Alvin: And as a forehead-kisser?
Oliver: Kind of a mom thing...?
Stephen: I'm still looking for an explanation for that mom-thing in there.
Beatriz: Well! If it isn't my hubby from another... mubby.
Abigail: You came!
Stephen: Was it that obvious?
Stephen: I had teleportation lag.
Stephen: Miss me?
Abigail: No! But I'm still getting some dopamine out of this, for some reason.
Stephen: It's probably because I'm a dope.
Abigail: I'm glad you've come to accept that.
Stephen: Actually, I've come to have my family ties reset.
Abigail: All you're getting out of that deal is one extra son.
Stephen: It's the one we named after Eddie Albert in Green Acres, right?
Abigail: I thought we named him after Oliver Wendell Holmes.
Stephen: Only to the extent that Eddie Albert in Green Acres was.
Stephen: The years have been kind!
Abigail: Maybe mine went to beat you up.
Abigail: I guess I should've accepted the compliment before responding with an insult.
Stephen: No, this way I get to take it back!
Abigail: NOT WITHOUT A FIGHT
Stephen: A PILLOW FIGHT!
Abigail: ...I mean... yes.
Abigail: I mean yes in so many ways.
All of them inexplicable.
Stephen: So I take it you cloned yourself.
Abigail: You'd better not take it.
Stephen: I'm a big fan of Abby's House of Humourous Misunderstandings.
Abigail: I'm glad I let you in.
Stephen: You won't be if I give you more sons.
Abigail: I almost said “I wouldn't mind more daughters.”
Stephen: Mhmm.
Abigail: Then I remembered how the first two turned out.
Stephen: Mhmm.
Beatriz: Surely there's a recipe in here which calls for sexual magic.
Abigail: Hey, sure, just drop right in, any time.
Beatriz: I've fucked him before, as you. I know you can multitask.
Stephen: Tell her I'm worth focusing on.
Abigail: She knows when I'm lying, though.
Stephen: I've missed you.
Abigail: You've missed in general.
Beatriz: Well maybe I think he's a hit.
Abigail: Maybe?
Beatriz: Yes.
Beatriz: I'd probably hit it.
Stephen: Is there a clone in my armpit, and is she glad to see us?
Man, why? You had it perfectly framed already.
Grugly2013: Perfection's not our brand.
Beatriz: What is our brand?
Grugly2013: Off-brand.
Beatriz: Off-brand! It's your turn!
Beatriz: I mean OLEEVAH!
Oliver: Hey there, hot mama!
Beatriz: Not for long!
Abigail: Hotness never lasts.
Abigail: But mamaness is forever.
Oliver: Move your cooch, I wanna watch my parents fuck!
Beatriz: Part of our never-ending series of phrases never before uttered.
Stephen: It was utterly something, alright.
Abigail: ...do you smell grass?
Next time: family ties.
This chapter depicts gameplay from 5 May 2013.
♪ Oh, yuck, do you think… we should throw this thing out ♪
♪ 'cuz it's flat, and it's grey, and it's not app-et-i-zing ♪
♪ It's beginning to smell; is it too soon to tell ♪
♪ If it mightn't be best for us all if it va-nished ♪
♪ Did it taste good before? 'cuz it don't anymore ♪
♪ And to keep on pre-tending is a terrible chore ♪
♪ So hey, should that spot-speckled ba-na-na-na-na get tossed ♪
♪ 'cuz whatever it had, it has def'nitely... lost ♪
