I just beat Fallout New Vegas (independant Vegas ending) and I'm bored. I've got other stuff that'll probably be more worth your while. Good Day.
The Courier lit a cigarette, and took a long drag. He held in the smoke, savoring the flavor, before blowing it out. He threw the cigarette down.
"This is complete and utter bullshit."
He kicked the corpse of a Legionare Assassin. "Fucking Legion fuckers. Trying to kill me and shit. Man, now I have to go find a bed."
He opened up his Pimp-Boy 3 Million (gold plated, custom made baby), and clicked his map marker to The Strip.
"Yes, I want to travel there."
In a mechanical voice, the glorified wrist watch spoke back to him.
"You cannot fast-travel while enemies are nearby."
The Courier froze. "Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit."
He checked his health. It was like 20 something I don't fucking know. Way too damned low, that's for sure. The courier crouched, and opened VATS. He zoomed in on the enemy that was rapidly coming towards him.
Cazadore
"AH FUCK ME, I CAN'T DEAL WITH THESE THINGS AT FULL FUCKING HEALTH. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN FUCKING RUN!"
"You're feeling a bit woozy."
"Oh mother fuc-"
The courier fell to the ground, limp and floppy. He sighed, and materialized at his last save.
"Now I have to do that fucking quest all over again. Fucking bullshit NCR, wanting me to find the Brotherhood of Steel and shit. This is beyond stupid."
He lit another cigarrete, and an NCR trooper passed by.
"When I accepted this position, I thoght there'd be a lot more gambling."
The courier pulled out his switchblade, and promptly murdered the trooper on the spot.
"I can always load a previous save. I need to vent my frustration."
"HEY FUCKER!"
The courier spun around. "More fucking Legionares? How did they get in the Strip?"
The main legionare held his hand up. "Plot relevance. Get ready to die, scum!"
The courier pulled out a Super Sledge. "How about no you fucking rasin?"
He began to slam the giant fucking metal hammer into Legionares' faces, caving in their skulls and shit, and stealing their clothes. Which he will be selling to random caravaners. Once he finished, the NCR surrounded him.
"Hey you fucking bitch boy, why the fuck did you kill Jeff."
The courier looked at the NCR. "Fuck you and what's his name."
"Ma nama jeff."
Everyone froze, and the courier pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Are you fucking serious? That meme was old like 167 years ago, what the fuck?"
I hold my hands up in shame. "Hey, look, you try writing funnier jokes, it's not fucking easy."
The courier grabbed the laptop from my hands. "Fuck you, fucking retarded 2 year olds can write better than this drivel."
I shrug. "That's fair."
The courier began to type quickly, grinning as he did so.
So these NCR fucktoids walked up on the Courier.
"Hey don't you ignore us you fuck."
The courier sneered. "Suck my cock you fucking femoid."
The NCR began to pull guns and shit out or whatever who really gives a shit?
The courier just sighed, and grabbed his .44 magnum, and began to pop caps in these nigga asses. They laid in a circle around him, and the courier danced with glee as he frolecked through their blood and intestines, cheering in joy as children watched in horror, and the cold dead stare of the lost and empty gazed upon the sight, unfeeling, uncaring. The cour-
"Hey hey hey! What the fuck dude? It's supposed to stay light hearted man, come on!"
The courier frowned. "Oh. Shit, my bad dude."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "This is legitamitely fucking stupid." I raise my hand, and look towards you.
"That's a wrap folks! Okay, look, I know this was totally fucking retarded. So, ah, go read my other shit please. It's pretty decent compared to this hot garbage. I know you didn't like it, so don't even bother leaving a review, and I'll see you all on the flip side!"
"And, send."