A Whole Different Ungulate 1.1
Back to 1.0
AND YOU CAN ALL HIDE BEHIND YOUR DESKS NOW
So! Here we are. The second installment of a hopefully long-running and satistfying (wink nudge
hey hey) story. Last time:
-We met the founder, Owen.
-He got a job in the Military and did quite well at it.
-Owen met Ivy Copur and macked on her all over his grassless lawn.
-There was a hole in the wall.
-Owen went out to bartend and met Caryl (ick) and Heather, the latter of whom he is currently
wooing shamelessly.
And she really, really doesn't mind. Heather, I dub thee Crazyfaces.
Also, we discover why the DJ Booth is ernverserberl. If I were being prodded by a chimp that
escaped from an '80s-themed zoo, I'd hide in shame, too.
Heather: I will remember this mad makeout session forever!
Owen: Damn right. (smirkkiss)
Wait, where are you two going?
Trench Coat: pretty shiny lights woo.
...ah.
...AH ha haah ha haaa.
Heather: Public indeed.
Owen: Yes, quite. As though we were hovering in the air over a stage with floodlights on us. By
the way, you have breasts.
I guess it didn't meat their expectations.
Badaboom PSSSSHHH
So Owen goes home to this. A little hut in a pretty flurry. With a door. His expression of gratitude?
Owen: Ugh. Door. I hate doors. You hate America, don't you?
...sometimes lilbit.
For a couple of days after that, it's essentially a lot of this...
...and a metric tonne of this. WHAT KIND OF MEAN SIM ARE YOU?!
Owen: The fuck you kind. Whee!
So in an effort to get him to make babies before he kicks it, I employ super psychic mind powers
to get him to invite his ~twu wub~ Heather over.
And this is the first autonomous thing he does after greeting and BBFL!ing her.
HONESTLY THOUGH. ONE NICE POINT.
Heather: OH SHIT A ~CATCH~ *marries*
Owen: *pulls double bed out of ass* Scooore!
Heather: Hey, honey, do you do drag? :3
She's a Small Business Employee (i.e. FUCKIN PO'), so she brings $556 to the household.
And for the most part, they have a boring, happy domestic life as they try madly to save up to build
their house into something livable. For the most part.
Heather: THIS IS TORTURE. I HATE THIS HOUSE, I HATE THIS CHALLENGE AND I
HATE YOU.
Owen: Hmm. Not in here... hon, have you seen my jumprope?
Heather: WHY SIMGOD WHY
Because you'll make borkless babies? (Also, note the floor. Owen's been getting a promotion or two.)
Dude. Even when it's your wife, it's creepy.
Eventually, they can afford paint for the walls and a TV.
Owen is fucking STOKED.
He did find his jumprope, by the way. Never fear.
Ivy: *bing bong* Owen? Why didn't you ever call?
Heather: DA FU-
Owen: OH SHI-
No one got schooled, unfortunately.
WTF CHIMES YOU CAN'T AFFORD A KID
Heather: Screw you. I just got laid.
Owen: I'm trying to SLEEP.
The next morning, she has to hurl so bad she smashes her head through the bathroom door to get
to the toilet.
I should probably fix that door.
And after she gets home from working long hours for slave wages...
Heather: Hoh-maa?! Yo, SimGod!
Heather: Look! Boobs!
Heather: DAMN that spaghetti I just ate smells tasty.
Owen: UM WTF DID YOU JUST DO TO MY CHAIR
But they still love each other enough to be super-adorable at times. Look at 'em, gigglin' away the day.
...and then my goodwill towards them is ruined when Heather does stupid shit. FINE. DIE.
OWEN'S GOT BACKUP.
(Yes, they have an actual bedroom now.)
Owen got promoted and brought home this nosy broad, who immediately tried to feel up
Heather's stomach.
Heather: Uh, sorry, no. I have creepypeopletouchingmytummyophobia.
And then she pops again!
Nosy Broad: *approves*
...yeah, you'll make a great parent.
Heather: THE WORMS ARE IN MY BRAIN
See, honey, that's why you don't go inhaling pesticides when you're pregnant. Can't wait to see
how the kid turns out.
Heather: OH GOD IT'S KILLING ME GET IT OUT
Townie Who Just Walked In For No Reason: Oh! Goodness! Didn't see you there!
Heather: WHYYYYYYYYYY
SEE DA BB IN
A Whole Different Ungulate 2.0: BRATS
AND YOU CAN ALL HIDE BEHIND YOUR DESKS NOW
So! Here we are. The second installment of a hopefully long-running and satistfying (wink nudge
hey hey) story. Last time:
-We met the founder, Owen.
-He got a job in the Military and did quite well at it.
-Owen met Ivy Copur and macked on her all over his grassless lawn.
-There was a hole in the wall.
-Owen went out to bartend and met Caryl (ick) and Heather, the latter of whom he is currently
wooing shamelessly.
And she really, really doesn't mind. Heather, I dub thee Crazyfaces.
Also, we discover why the DJ Booth is ernverserberl. If I were being prodded by a chimp that
escaped from an '80s-themed zoo, I'd hide in shame, too.
Heather: I will remember this mad makeout session forever!
Owen: Damn right. (smirkkiss)
Wait, where are you two going?
Trench Coat: pretty shiny lights woo.
...ah.
...AH ha haah ha haaa.
Heather: Public indeed.
Owen: Yes, quite. As though we were hovering in the air over a stage with floodlights on us. By
the way, you have breasts.
I guess it didn't meat their expectations.
Badaboom PSSSSHHH
So Owen goes home to this. A little hut in a pretty flurry. With a door. His expression of gratitude?
Owen: Ugh. Door. I hate doors. You hate America, don't you?
...sometimes lilbit.
For a couple of days after that, it's essentially a lot of this...
...and a metric tonne of this. WHAT KIND OF MEAN SIM ARE YOU?!
Owen: The fuck you kind. Whee!
So in an effort to get him to make babies before he kicks it, I employ super psychic mind powers
to get him to invite his ~twu wub~ Heather over.
And this is the first autonomous thing he does after greeting and BBFL!ing her.
HONESTLY THOUGH. ONE NICE POINT.
Heather: OH SHIT A ~CATCH~ *marries*
Owen: *pulls double bed out of ass* Scooore!
Heather: Hey, honey, do you do drag? :3
She's a Small Business Employee (i.e. FUCKIN PO'), so she brings $556 to the household.
And for the most part, they have a boring, happy domestic life as they try madly to save up to build
their house into something livable. For the most part.
Heather: THIS IS TORTURE. I HATE THIS HOUSE, I HATE THIS CHALLENGE AND I
HATE YOU.
Owen: Hmm. Not in here... hon, have you seen my jumprope?
Heather: WHY SIMGOD WHY
Because you'll make borkless babies? (Also, note the floor. Owen's been getting a promotion or two.)
Dude. Even when it's your wife, it's creepy.
Eventually, they can afford paint for the walls and a TV.
Owen is fucking STOKED.
He did find his jumprope, by the way. Never fear.
Ivy: *bing bong* Owen? Why didn't you ever call?
Heather: DA FU-
Owen: OH SHI-
No one got schooled, unfortunately.
WTF CHIMES YOU CAN'T AFFORD A KID
Heather: Screw you. I just got laid.
Owen: I'm trying to SLEEP.
The next morning, she has to hurl so bad she smashes her head through the bathroom door to get
to the toilet.
I should probably fix that door.
And after she gets home from working long hours for slave wages...
Heather: Hoh-maa?! Yo, SimGod!
Heather: Look! Boobs!
Heather: DAMN that spaghetti I just ate smells tasty.
Owen: UM WTF DID YOU JUST DO TO MY CHAIR
But they still love each other enough to be super-adorable at times. Look at 'em, gigglin' away the day.
...and then my goodwill towards them is ruined when Heather does stupid shit. FINE. DIE.
OWEN'S GOT BACKUP.
(Yes, they have an actual bedroom now.)
Owen got promoted and brought home this nosy broad, who immediately tried to feel up
Heather's stomach.
Heather: Uh, sorry, no. I have creepypeopletouchingmytummyophobia.
And then she pops again!
Nosy Broad: *approves*
...yeah, you'll make a great parent.
Heather: THE WORMS ARE IN MY BRAIN
See, honey, that's why you don't go inhaling pesticides when you're pregnant. Can't wait to see
how the kid turns out.
Heather: OH GOD IT'S KILLING ME GET IT OUT
Townie Who Just Walked In For No Reason: Oh! Goodness! Didn't see you there!
Heather: WHYYYYYYYYYY
SEE DA BB IN
A Whole Different Ungulate 2.0: BRATS