Hello all. This is my first post and as I'm not quiet sure if this uploading system is going to be compatible with my dial up I figured I'd do something silly instead of serious. 'Boom de yadda' Or "The World is Just Awesome' has dozens of remakes, including one done by Disney and discovery channel. I couldn't even guess the real name.
On this site I know there is one for Bioshock and the Mass Effect games. I wish I could find the writers to give them due credit. I say every game should have one. So here's my go. Any comments are loved. Even the 'you're a poop head for posting such filth' ones.
I hope you enjoy.
In Springvale, a little ghost town not far from (the once prestigious) capitol of America, the largest building left standing, was a school.
The walls of education had been broken by war and blasted away by time. Hanging terraces formed and we often utilized by weary travelers to rest.
Most of those travelers were, rapped to death, eaten, and skinned for leather by the more long term residents.
One of whom was a young girl, who in another time, would've attended a class, instead of dangling her feet out of one. Her clothes -if leather metal and spikes can be classified as such- showed of her sun burnt belly, shoulders and the top most part of her rump.
She itches her pock marked arms, taking time to squeeze the puss out of some of the newer holes.
At that time an older -but no more modestly dressed- man kicks open the 200 year old door laughing as it comes off the hinges and the other cannibal jumps to her feet.
He flicks up the wielding mask that concealed his features and grins savagely at the young woman. Most intelligent beings might've shot the man just for the look on his face. But as it was, the ever lusting, blood shot, knurl toothed, manic, grin was the young lady's default expression as well.
He ambles over, pulling out from his pocket a long syringe and what looks to be an red inhaler. "Hey sweetass you want one?" He asks as cordially as raiders can manage. One might look at him even offering it as odd, as raiders aren't known for generosity. But eventually a man might fancy a go with someone who isn't trying to kill him, or crying, or asking to be paid. As he had heard it the quickest way to getting that was to get one high or drunk; and not demand they pay the tab. In other words: sharing.
The twitchy young lady looks between the two drugs. Her hand snaps out to grab the syringe of pyscho, only to have the man jerk it out of reach. "Don't tease me, fuckface, give it here." The smirk grew on the Blasmaster's face and he tosses the little red tube to her as well.
Giving her a second to shoot up he sits down beside her watching her eyes nearly pop out her skull and dart about like bees. Her mouth opens into a perfect 'o' and she breathed slowly. He admired the fresh corpse look for too long a moment, causing her to stare back. Nervously the raider turns his attention to the wastes below where two of they're dogs were ripping apart some poor traveler.
"This world is so fucked up, even more fucked up than my arm, god damn it." She pulls in a sharp breath and the Bastmaster steals a glimpse as the infected spots on her arm. 'Gangrenous' he thinks, but decides not to say anything on that matter.
In steadhe mutters, "My grandma used to say something about talking about your problems."
"Really? So, what was her sage advice?" the Sadist looked askance.
"Dunno, she mentioned it while I was taking a ripper to her for eating my dog."
The manic grin turned to a fake grimace as the girl looked away."Shit man, I'm sorry."
Silence passed between them as they fell into a drug fueled thought. "I Think.." The Blastmaster's voices trails off as does his thoughts before returning. "It was something about singing."
The sadist laughs, and has too look at his seriously hurt expression before realizing it isn't a joke. "Seriously? Fuck man, how does that help?"
The Blastmaster snarls under his furiously red face. "Fuck you, have you tried it you shit huffing bitch?"
The jittery eyes turn back to the waste as she idly scratches her arm."Nope."
And perhaps it was their drugs, but it seemed as if music suddenly washed over the wasteland.
The Raider Sadist squeezed her arm: I hate addictions
Raider BlastMaster: I hate when my rads rise
Raiser Sadist: I hate the vault kid
A raider guarding the door pops off a few shot and adds: I hate those damn bloatflies
Their voiced misery brought a burst of camaraderie into three's voices: We hate the whole waste and all
it's sights and sounds
Boom de yadda boom de yadda boom de yadda boom de yadda
As they bellow out the last lines and the echo across the waste land it seems everyone simultaneously decided to vent.
Mccready: I hate the mungos
Temple of the Union members: We hate all slavery
Tennpeney: I hate those zombie freaks
Roy Phillips: And I hate Bigotry
Cantonberry Commons citizens hide under a window sill laser beams and explosions roll in the streets: We hate the captial wastes and all it's craziness'!
Raiders: Boom de yadda boom de yadda boom de yadda!
Nathaniel Vargas from iside his energy cage: I hate the Enclave!
Harold: I hate the lack of rain
John Henry Eden: I Hate Logic
Supermutant: HEY I LIKE THE PAIN!
Moria Brown: I love the mole rats!
Moira' mercenary, (under his breath): You're the only one
Jericho: [flatly] I just hate you all.
Mr. Bruke: [smiling] And I hate Megaton.
Democracy of Bob school children sing as they sit in their desk: We hate the waste land, it's such an dreadfull place!
Raiders: Boom de yadda boom de yadda boom de yadda!
Boom de yadda boom de yadda boom de yadda-
As the last 'yadda' echoes out over the dead earth the guard bellow suddenly points toward the springvale school sign.
The Two raiders reach for their guns as the one below them taunts the unknown person, "What? don't like the sight of your own blood?"
A flash of a blue and yellow, darts out from it's pre-war hiding spot and they hear the distinctive discharge of a "fat man' mininuke launcher.
"I fucking hate this place," the sadist manages to moan before her very atoms are torn apart.
In the after glow stand a silhouette of a human being admiring their work, in altruistic satisfaction of a job well done, or pure maniacal glee is unknown.
They take a drag of a cigarette before slinging the small-yield-jury-rigged-thermo-nuclear device onto their back.
They exhale and hum merrily as the turn to go.
"Hum de daada hum de daada hum de daada hummmm."