* Just a shout out to my buddy Will Freedom: You're awesome! Thanks for the review. ;)
*******
Despite the heat during the day, it's bone chilling cold at night. I think I could probably cut glass with my tits if I wanted to. Classy. . . .
Poor Bryan. When I told him about his dad he tried to put on a "brave face," but as soon as we were out of Grayditch his lower lip began to quiver. He didn't really begin to cry until Charon and I decided to make camp. What he went through. . .no child should ever go through something like that. Jesus, and to top everything off, Bryan had to witness our nasty firefight with the "boogie men." I only wish I'd dealt with that ant queen faster than I did. Maybe if I had then we all could've avoided running into those mutants? But (lucky me) I wasn't fast enough.
I still cannot understand why one of those. . .things saved my life? I've never once noticed intelligent behavior (let alone self sacrificing behavior) from a super mutant before. It was surreal. . . .
I guess some remnant of who they used to be previous to their exposure to the F.E.V. virus must be locked within their psyches somehow? This changes everything I thought about them now. The memory of this day will be a constant reminder that the mutants were once people; they were once wastelanders that persevered, lived, loved----and lost. Who was this "Rosie," I wonder? Who was she and what did she mean to our mutant friend?
Huh. Shouldn't be thinking about this stuff. I. Need. Sleep. Wish Mr. Sandman would come visit me again. I'm damn tired. (Too pooped to pop in fact.) God. . .I miss sleeping in a nice warm bed. I even miss listening to my father thrash around in his quarters; I suppose I just miss the sound of my dad's voice. I'm beginning to wonder whether I'll ever catch up to my dad. As the old song goes, "Daddy, don't ya walk so fast. Daddy slow down some 'cause you're making me run!" Yeah, just like the song, except. . .except my daddy didn't slow down. I like to think that show's how dedicated my father is to whatever "mission" he's on. That he's strong and not a quitter. . .and that I inherited some of those same qualities from him because, if I did, then that would mean I'm eventually going to find him.
Yes, and when I find him I am so giving him the biggest guilt trip in the history of all guilt trips. In fact, I plan on it being the guilt trip to end all guilt trips! Damn skippy I will. I mean. . . . Jesus! I'm so upset that he. . .he just left me. Couldn't take me along, couldn't give me the decency of a simple explanation, and couldn't say good-bye except on a damn recorded message. (Real touching dad. Real touching stuff there).
Fuck! Dad, you better be alive because. . .because I can't find your corpse okay? I. . .I don't want to end up an orphan of the wastes like Bryan. . . . Stupid right? All things considered dad's probably deader than one of Butch's brain cells, which means I'm in the same boat as Lil' Brayn here. Still, I pray he has a relative somewhere. If he doesn't, well, then it looks like I've got myself I kid to take care of on top of everything else. . . .
Gee, it's funny where life can take you. A few months ago I was living within the confines of a well fortified vault. My biggest worries were dealing with Butch's idiotic teasing and the ridiculousness of the vault's rules. And I thought my life was hard? Yeah right. . . .What an idiot I was! I might as well have been Marie Antionette saying, "Let them eat cake," for all I knew. Ha. I was nothing but a whiner. . .I was never as mature as Amata. She always seemed to take things in stride; I'd bet she'd have found her dad by now if our places had been switched.
I. . .I wonder how she's doing now? It's almost Christmas, and I won't be there to exchange gifts with her this year; and I also won't be there to humiliate the Tunnel Snakes at the vault's holiday party. (Amata and I would always prank those suckers good). But. . .will there be anything to really celebrate this Christmas? I know I lost my dad and Jonas, but I wasn't the only one to experience loss that fateful night. A lot of people were hurt. . .a lot of people died.
Death. . .he never takes a holiday (not even on Christmas). Nope. Death, the big "Grim Reaper," doesn't know how to take a sick day. I suppose, there are just too many souls for him to stab with that scythe of his. Fuckin' Death. Fuck you! Fuck you and the horse you rode in on! Prick. Why do people have to die? Why'd Bryan's father? Why Jonas? Why'd mom? I. . .I wonder why. . .why. . . .
Hmmm. . .Charon's talking to himself again. He just muttered something about a moose canon. What the hell is a "moose" cannon?! And why does a person need petrolum jelly to get said cannon to work? Yeah. . .just one of life's many mysteries I guess. (I'll make a mental note to ask Charon about this sometime when we're on the road, bored as hell, and the conversation is lagging).
Shit! Bryan's shivering hardcore. I'll give him some of my blankets and hold him tighter. It's not like it matters that much to me; I feel so numb now. Jack Frost must've bitten me one to many times, that, or my body's finally acclimated to the chill? Or (stranger still) maybe I'm becoming used to wasteland living? God. . .I hope not. The very thought chills me to the bone (which is ironic since I am now so cold that I can no longer feel anything, not even my tits).
* I almost forgot to give credit to Charlie Rich. He originally sung, "Daddy Don't You Walk So Fast." It's thanks to Rich's classic tune that I was inspired to write this particular perspective. I hope you all enjoyed it!
