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!
If the images in this chapter are broken, read it at gruglysims.ca instead!
Previous Entries: C.1., C.2, C.3, C.4, C.5, C.6, C.7, C.8, C.9, C.10, C.11, C.12, C.13, C.14, C.15, C.16, C.17, C.18, C.19, C.20, C.21, C.22, C.23, C.24, C.25.A, C.25.B, C.26, C.27, C.28, C.29, C.30, C.31, C.32, C.33, C.34, C.35, C.36, C.37, C.38, C.39, C.40, C.41, C.42, C.43, C.44, C.45, C.46, C.47, C.48, C.49, C.50, C.51, C.52, C.53, C.54, C.55, C.56, C.57, C.58, C.59, C.60, C.61, C.62, C.63, C.64, C.65, C.66, C.67, C.68, C.69, C.70, C.71, C.72, C.73, C.74, C.75, C.76, C.77, C.78, C.79, C.80, C.81, C.82, C.83
Interludes: I.1, I.2, I.3
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.
Nah, who am I kidding? This is a lucky wedding arch! No doomed marriages ever started here!
Melanie: I'm sorry I killed your parents. And then made you kill them more. And then killed your girlfriend, indirectly, twice. And then made you kill your parents again.
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?