A New Start

Welcome back to the Southern Prettacy.  Time to start off the new Generation in style!

And by style, I ment Stiles.  Protesting marriage outside of City Hall.

“I don’t want to be tied down!  I want my sex without reprocussions!  Why pay for the cow when I can get the milk for free?!  Well, not saying Red Rider was free…”

Sadly for Stiles, he’s the only one that thinks this.  Go home, Stiles.  No one cares nor likes you.

Last time, we had a small heir poll.  Ronda tugged at some heart strings, but Pat was ripping hearts out with his 23 votes to Ronda’s 8.  Poor DD and her 5.  So let’s go back to our little heir’s birthday, shall we…

Back in the park, a newly excitable young adult Patriot took three hours blowing out his candles (my game is slowing down again SIGH)

“I feel a makeovers gonna be needed!”

To the salon, then!

AT THE SALON:

“…Ok then, twenty bucks!”

“NOT for the discusting things you want to do, you pervert!”

“…Twenty five?”

Pauline: “Make it forty and I’ll happily do it for you with my recordable… dildo?”

(No really, what the fuck is she thinking of, a rocket?  Then again, that still might be perverted, at least for Pauline…)

Nice hillbilly-boy makeover, Pat.

“I feel like Furmer Brown wid’ this crap…”

Nonsense, you are adorable anyway.  Maybe overly hairy.  But still, we needed a farmer look eventually anyway.

“…And when she looked ’round in the pool, she couldn’t find… the LADDER!”

“Oh my gosh, that poor woman!”

“Haha, gawt mah audiance right wur’ I want ’em…”

“Dangit Ronda, ur story sucks.  Ur tellin’ it like we even need ladders anymore!”

“Oh shut up Pat, ur ruinin’ my story!”

“Yeah Pat, be nice to your little sister and let her finish.  Speaking of finishing, can I bum $40?”

MOVING ON.

A robot named Nascar teaching an imaginary friend how to drive.  I see nothing wrong here.

“Too bad I gotta teach him in this thing.  The boy should know how to drive somethin’ important, like a TANK”

Take your thoughts of tanks and SHOVE THEM, Nascar.

Pat’s graduation.  He makes Lee and his gangsta hat look professional, what with him wearing TWO HATS

“Wut, mah cowboy hat’s jus’ an accessory piece fur mah outfit!”

Pat’s family, however, refused to go City Hall unless I looked at each and everyone of them first.  Dumbshits.

“Sigh, this was the weddin’ dress I picked out years ago, but Dale never gave me the ring… and now I’m so old ;_;”

“Sigh, this was the dress I picked out fur my hooker career, but yew won’t let me ;_;”

Just go get in the car.

“Lol, I don’t know these people”

Poor Virginia, has no idea where she is, and keeps wishing to show random people pictures of her grandchilden.

“Heer yew go big brother!  A gift frum ur fav’rite lil sister in the world, frum mah heart to yew!”

“…Yew gave me a rock?!”

“But… it’s a purdy blue rock!”

“Yew didn’t even git it cut!”

“This way it’s gawt more personaility!”

Needless to say, Pat wasn’t happy with it.

Pat then spent the rest of the afternoon telling horror stories to everyone.

“An’ then I walked into the room, and thur wus mah mama ‘n paw wrestlin’ on the bed, ‘n the image of mah mama’s tattoo is furever burned into my memory!”

Deborah’s tattoo: “):”

“Tha’s cuz I done shawt it ‘n replaced mah t-rex head wid’ his.”

Go figure the horror story would end with a deer.

After that, everyone went down to the bistro to throw Pat a celebratory expensive dinner, you know, something a lot of grads and their families do after the kid’s big day.

They roll up to the bistro and found THIS

SHIT

WHAT THE FUCK

NOT ONLY ARE YOU BROTHER AND SISTER, YOU ARE IN THE SAME TRIPLET SET WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO

“MAMA!  Bring me onna’ dem forks!  Nawt the plastic one, I need a metal one.  I’m gonna STAB MAH EYES OUT AFTUR WITNESSIN’ THIS SHIT”

“Oh boy, yew just don’t understand the kinna’ love me ‘n ur aunt have fur each other…”

“Oh Richard, your jiggly chest fat…”

“OH GAWD”

I would like to apologize to Cerise back there as well.  She does not deserve this kind of treatment in my game.

“I didn’t even ASK to be in this shit…”

Deborah decided that it was the perfect time to start a ghost story (damn, these sims and their ghost stories)

“An’ then, when she turned ’round, the ghost was RIGHT THERE”

Virginia: “GHOST?! WHERE?!”

“Oh wait, I’m the ghost, lol”

“M-MAMA?!  Oh gawd, WHY DO YEW HAVE TO DIE?!”

“SOB WAH CUZ YEW GAVE HER A HEART ATTACK WID’ YEW SCREWIN’ OUR SISTER ‘N ALL YEW DUMBASS WAAAH”

RIP Virginia.  You were two promotions away from getting your LTW.  Go figure.  You leave behind a bunch of stupid childen and some grandchildren, hopefully none from RP and TJ.

And cue the sob fest.

“WHY MAMA WHY WAAH”

“Oh.  Grandma.  I hardly knew you.  Sob.”

“OH… NOW I’LL NEVER GET TO EAT TONIGHT WAH TEAR SOB”

After a quick round of Who Has The Moodlet Manager, life quickly went on without Virginia, and Dale found the body sculpture for the first time since Berkliegh used it, and is celebrating his find.

Ok, actually he’s finally having his ADULT birthday, but who can really focus on his birthday while the gnomes are doing whatever the hell they are doing back there…

“Dat ass…”

“No, I’m surious man, GTFO”

And when I thought the gnomes couldn’t get weirder…

“HAH, tha’s wut yew get fur taken all the attenshun’ ‘way frum mah birthday!”

“Oh my porcelain hip D:”

“Oh my metal balls D:”

Jeez, be nice Dale.

“I can’t believe I’m sleepin’ wid him again, wut happened to me sayin’ I wus gonna be a strong independent woman frum now on?!”

“Zzzz, mmm, yeah yew like wut yew see in the microscope, dun’cha zzz…”

“Sigh.”

“So you’ve come drinking at my place for the past four days, Ronda.  But this is the first time I’ve seen you pretty down.  What’s up?”

“Well Thort’n, mah birthdays comin up, ‘n… I doubt mah mama’s gonna come to this one either.”

“I thought you weren’t on speaking terms with her, Ronda.  Besides, your dad and your sister DD will be there, and if I get off work early, I might make an appearance.  And that’s all you need, right?”

“I guess ur right, Thort’n.”

And then, as soon as Ronda walks off his lawn, I GET THIS LOAD OF BS.

He’s still an ADULT, YOU ASSHOLE GAME.

AND I WAS PLANNING ON HIM TO BE RONDA’S SUGAR DADDY AND THAT GOT SCREWED UP FOR ME.

Ronda and DD and Bun Onion all had their party right after Thornton died (BECAUSE HE SUCKS) and Dallas apparently followed in the footsteps of his older cousin.

“It’s like we’s brothurs again, Pat :D”

“Noooo, the furmer look’s mine, Dallas, go find ur own outfit!”

In the end, Edith did actually show up for the party (about time), but she didn’t come quietly.

“Ur damn tv’s brokun again?!  UGH, this is Dale’s YA birthday all ovur again!”

And you come running into the house through the wall, who are you to complain?!

“Mama!  I… can’t believe yew actually came!  I don’t know wut to say… yew don’t know wut this means to me!”

“Well of course I came!  Ur mah only child, and I knew deep in mah heart that I had to do somethin’ fur yew, even if that was tearin’ mahself outta mah hawse fur the first time in 18 years just to show up at ur birthday for once!  ‘N thur’s nothin’ that crazy fire crotch of a woman can do to stop me either!”

Oh, don’t worry about Deborah, Edith.  She spent the entire party with a broken arm D:

“Oh hi Aunt Deb’ruh, how’ya been?!”

“Oh please don’t shake this arm Dallas, that hurts…”

“Mama, I dun’ told yew go to the hospital and let them put a cast on that arm!  Gud lawd!”

The remainder of the party was spent with Ronda screaming about how Bun Onion stole her cake -_-

“But he SAW me goin’ fur that cake, ‘n he took it frum me on purpose!  He’s such an ass!  That was mah cake!  MINE!”

OMG, THERE ARE TWO OTHER CAKES AND THEY ARE ALL THE SAME, SHUT UP.

“Haha, I grow up first.”

“Prick.”

Two hours later, and they were still just looking at their cakes.  UGH.

“Happy birthday DD!  I’d spin the noise maker, but mah hand, it’s broken and it hurts!”

“Oh give me that, Deb’ruh!  Yew don’t need to be spinnin’ no spinny thang!  I agree wid’ Pat… fur once.  Go to the damn doctor!”

Just get the birthday’s out of the way already, damn.

“Wut the fuck’s up wid’ everyone tryin’a take mah outfit already?!  And why are yew even here, no one invited yew!”

“I here just to see what my beloved Bella is so interested in that she doesn’t want to be with me… oh… no amount of birthday cake will fill the dark, vacant hole that my Bella has left in my heart…”

No amount of any food is filling that hole, Mortimer.  I always get a fatty fat Mortimer in ALL my games…

ANYWAY, here are Ronda, Bun, and DD as young adults.  Way to get hot, Ronda.

“No problem.”

“I swear, it was the bench, not me!”

Yeah yeah, if you think so, Fat Mortimer.  Don’t go around breaking my wicker yard furniture, you hear me?!

Speaking of Fat Mortimer eating his depression, Pat gave it one last go with Bella’s dad now that he’s a responsible young adult.  For the most part.

“Ugh, I got dem’ butterflys flutterin’ in mah belly… wut if he says no dis time?  I’m so nervous right now…”

“Psst, hey Bella, I hear your boyfriend’s going to try to convince dad to let him marry you!  Twenty bucks he says no!”

“Haha, seriously!  And I’ll bet you that he’ll say yeah and you got to go put pants on!”

(I just now noticed how small I made Micheal’s censor bar is, that wasn’t intentional…)

Holy shit, you can really ask for their hand in marriage now?!  AWESOME

“PLEASE, Mistur Bach’lur!  Please let me marry Bella!  I know I’m jus’ta curnbread countree’ boy, but I really love ur dawghtur ‘n will give anything fur her hand!  I know I ain’t that Mortimur boy, but yew can’t let Bella marry him!  He’s depressed ‘n fat ‘n I’m so much better fur her ‘n-”

“SURE!  You can marry my daughter!”

“OMG REALLY?!” (LOL, his face)

“Omg dad, REALLY?!”

“Even aftur how much we hated each other frum wen I talked to yew the first time, ‘n threw eggs at ur hawse afturwurds ‘n all that, ur gonna let me marry Bella?!”

“Sure!  After all, after I got old, I can’t remember anything you’ve done!  Dementia is a terrible thing.”

“Oh, THANK YEW, Mistur Bachlur!  Yew won’t regret a thing!”

“I know I won’t!  I can’t wait for you to move in and be with my daughter!”

“Whoa whoa, wait.  Yew said move in?  Like heer?”

“I still can’t believe you said yes, dad…”

“YES MICHEAL NOW GO PUT ON PANTS GOSH”

“But… I thought the woman wus ‘sposed to leave her fathur ‘n come wid’ his family, ‘n all that jazz!”

“What?  Oh, no no NO.  Not my Bella.  You aren’t taking her to live in those shady back valley woods, no sir.  If you want to marry MY little girl, you are going to abandon that hillbilly lot you call a house and stay here.  No way Bella is living in a shack house like a trailer trash tramp!”

“Now hold onna’ minute!  That’s everything of mine!  How dare yew go on ‘n insult everythang I’ve ever grown up knowin!”

“No, I don’t care.  It’s either you leave that shack you call a house and come here or NO Bella for you!  And that’s my final offer.”

Simis still sucks.

“Tell me ’bout it.  Leave mah hawse OR nawt marry his dawghtur?!  He’s so full of it, ain’t no way I’d ever live wid’ im… I mean… I guess I would leave mah hawse, but live heer? NO.”

“Hmm… wait a minute.  Technuh’cly, he didn’t say anything ’bout me stayin’ in HIS hawse… nur’ anythin’ bout me ‘bandonin’ mah folks…”

What are you thinking about, Pat?

“I think I’m gonna live heer now :D”

Well you can’t just stake claim to any plot of land you find, Pat…

Oh wait, this is the sims we are talking about…