G.O.A.T.s suck D.I.C.K.

Let me make one thing clear to all of you, tests suck ass.

I'm not talking about those tests where you get like half the questions wrong so the teacher angrily yells at you: "How can you fail astronomy? Get the hell out of here, dumbass!", because you didn't give a shit. No, this is way worse. Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test. Otherwise known as G.O.A.T. This test doesn't just tell you what your vault slave duty will be, but who you are also.

That's a lot of pressure for a 16 year old.

That's like telling a 5 year old boy to get ready for a journey to find himself. It's really, really stupid. Why not a regular test? How about some classes to see which person was best suited towards a certain job? Oh, here's a suggestion: why not have people f*cking apply for the jobs they want? It was total bullshit.

But I had to take it, and I had to get top marks on it. Because, as a genius once said: when life is a bitch, you gotta slap that skanky ass ho till she knows her place!… did I say "genius"? I think I meant pimp, hmm… same difference, anyway.

There I was being given advice from my father who, surprisingly, seemed to have acquired some of his INT. back.

"Remember son, G.O.A.T.'s aren't actual goats" he advised to me, "Therefore, you cannot do questionable things to them while others aren't looking. I had to constantly remind myself of that, and you should too"

Just a little… oh god, why?

"Anyway, you should hurry up and take it while it's still warm…" dad said, catching himself. "I mean… before you're late for the test"

Without saying a word, I nodded and swiftly ran out of the room before I could be traumatized more. On my merry way, I happily waved at my best buddy Amata, who was suspiciously up against the wall surrounded by Butch and his stupid Tunnel Snake gang, as I walked by her.

I never really pictured her as that type of girl, oh well, whatever floats her boat.

"LONE! HELP!" she screamed at me.

"Ugh" I groaned, rolling my eyes. I then turned to face Butch and his merry band of misfits.

"Butch, can you leave her alone?" I said, failing to sound like I cared.

Butch, failing to establish that he was not an stupid goat rapist like my father, puffed out his 16 year old chest and walked up to me.

"Oh yeah, Lone Wandork?" He replied, "What you gonna do about it?"

"Oooh, good one" I replied nonchalantly, "Did you rehearse that to yourself every night?"

"Sh-shut up!" he yelled back, his face red with anger.

"Awww, is wittle Butchie mad that someone outsmwarted his dumbass?" I mockingly cooed, "Is he gonna cry to his alcoholic Nazi momma?"

Now, he looked really mad, "Look here, you little pipsqueak. Just cause you outsmarted me once, doesn't mean you can do it again!"

"Cocksuckersayswhat?"

"What?" Butch said, looking like he was having an aneurism.

"Exactly" I simply replied. Taking Amata's hand, I quickly lead her away from the terrifying Tunnel Snakes and to the classroom.

When we both went into the classroom, Amata quickly pulled me aside into a corner of the room.

"Hey… thanks for helping me out, Lone" She said, blushing all the while.

I smiled right back, "Sure, friends always help other doorma-, I mean friends, right?"

"Actually, about that…" She said, nervously rubbing her arm. "I-I've… always had these f-feelings for you since we were kids, and I was hoping th-that w-we could be… you know, m-more than friends?"

Good god she's having a seizure, and it's strangely… cute. She's actually coming on to me? Crap! What the f*ck should I do? I can't return her feelings, that'd be like me having sex with my sister! Actually… that sounds kinda hot. NO! Must stop these thoughts, and think of a way to get out of this conversation!

"Uh, Lone? You okay?" Amata asked, clearly concerned over why I was literally tearing my hair out of frustration.

"Huh? Yeah! yeah I'm cool" I said, looking ironically not cool. "Hey, let's go take that stupid test, eh?"

Amata laughed, "Sure, just give me an answer after the test's done"

"Oh, and you aren't Canadian, remember, eh?" Amata added, before bounding off to her seat.

Ahh, Amata. Always being unintentionally racist when she doesn't know it, good times. She really is adorable sometimes, even though I think of her as a sister. I mean, me and her? Nahhhh, besides, I've always been way more into blondes anyway.

I quickly settled into my seat before the test could begin.

Our teacher, Mr. Brotch explained all about the test. Which was pretty much sounded to me like: "Yada, yada… test… yada, yada… vault duties… yada, yada… OMG If I could, I would totally go gay for Lone Wanderer cause he's just sooo much more handsomer and cooler than me."

Pfft, and people say I have an ego problem. Moving along, the test pretty much went like this:

Question 1: At a Christmas party, your uncle takes you to a private room where you're by yourself with him. He then asks you to touch his private parts. What do you reply?

A)Tell him to stop molesting you or you'll call the police.

B)Round house kick him in the balls then to proceed to "Batman" your way out of the room.

C)Tell him that your friend Colin is a much better candidate. BTW he totally isn't.

D)Tell him to at least buy you dinner first.

If you couldn't already tell, the test was total bullshit, funny, but bullshit.

But, I answered the best that I could; trying really hard to get the dream job that I wanted. Oh, and to you smartasses out there listening to this tale, yes. That dream job did in fact involve murder, ninja mastery, and banging your mom.

She says hi by the way.

Anyway, I was the first one done with the test, so I handed over to Mr. Brotch, who graded it accordingly and told me the result.

"Hmm, Lone Wanderer, looks like you got Vault Prostitute" Mr. Brotch said, eyebrows raised. "Congrats, the vault hasn't gotten one for years, probably cause the last one was brutally rap-, know what, you probably don't wanna know what happened"

I was speechless, like absolutely brain-dead for a few seconds, but quickly regained my composure. "Mr. Brotch, there's gotta be some kind of mistake! Can't you just re-check it?"

After much pleading, Mr. Brotch finally resigned, and re-checked the results. After much, uh, re-checking, his eyes shot up in surprise.

"Oh wow, you were right, Lone Wanderer" Mr. Brotch said, "You aren't the Vault Prostitute"

I sighed in relief, "Whew, thank god. Hey, Mr. Brotch, can I ask? Who is the Vault Prostitute, then?"

"Oh, why it's Amata, of course" Mr. Brotch chuckled. "Of course, you probably already knew this, haha"

We both laughed and shared a knowing look. I would've said that we both then jumped up in the air and high-fived while yelling "YEEAAAAHHH". But that would have been total overkill… even though that's exactly what happened… don't judge me.

After much high-fiving, epic high-fiving, Mr. Brotch straightened up and told me what my real job was.

"Hmmm, it looks like you got…" Mr. Brotch trailed off, eyes yet again raised. "Psychopathic ninja sniper with ambiguous morality…"

I nodded like everything was normal, "Yup, looks like I got what I wanted"

"Hang on" Mr. Brotch said, signaling for me to stay put. "Lone, it says here that say, hypothetically, if you tried to escape from the vault, no amount of trained security with firearms could stop you… just giving you the heads up."

"Wow, that's good to know" I replied, seriousness in my tone.

"Bit of advice before you go" Mr. Brotch whispered so that only I could hear. "Take no prisoners… comrade"

"...flash bang through the door" I whispered back, smirking. Then we shared that knowing look again. It was then that I was going for the door before Amata could spot me. By then, Mr. Brotch's warning was too late; my foot was already halfway through the door when I heard him yell.

"Lone, wait! They're installing the new fluorescent light bulbs! They can get very brigh-"

You can guess where this was going… or ending, whatever.

"Gah! What is up with this vault always blinding me half the goddamn time!"