Dear Diary,
OMG it’s great to get outside. I didn’t realise this, but my complexion is hell. I’ve got vault pallor. Post-apocalyptic wastiness pastiness. Mind you, I don’t know how much of a tan I’m going to get wearing all this bulky armour I got off the guys inside and it’s going to make it twice as hard to… yeah…look... about the armour and stuff.
That whole “leaving home” thing didn’t go the way I wanted it to. At all. I went to help more folks and maybe look for stuff to “collect” and all of a sudden there was a posse after me and people were yelling and acting all panicked again. (The giant cockroaches were not helping either.) Why do so many adults not know the difference between a warning shot that goes close, and someone actually trying to do them harm? Ok, some warning shots sort of went ‘in’ rather than ‘close’ but a girl’s got to try.
Vault 101 was run by a guy called Alphonse Almodovar. He was sort of the Mayor and Head Doctor and all round creepy dude all in one. Spirit Guide wasn’t impressed either. He kept mumbling about how much he hates Almodovar’s movies and why did he always have to go out with girls who would make him go and see the stupid Almodovar movies when it was really Spirit Guide on the verge of a nervous breakdown, not those noisy women. Honestly, Spirit Guide went on and on and I guess it got the better of him because the next thing I knew, I was standing over the Overseer with a smoking pistol and a dripping knife and the klaxons were even worse than before.
I realised I was in trouble for more than just the accidental homicide of Butch and his Mum... and those three guards. And that annoying scientist dude. And his friend. And that other guy running down the hall near them. Which I felt I could explain.
As I was wondering what to do and going through the Overseer’s clothes for loose change, Spirit Guide realised that it was Pedro Almodavar, not Alphonse, who directed all those movies. Spirit Guide then wondered if he might not have overreacted a little and negatively influenced my fate. Good one, Stupid Guide! It’s me living this, not you. What the hell kind of Supreme-Being-Puppeteer are you? The way you pick me up and put me down is really bad. Dude, it’s not a game!
Spirit Guide was justifying things after the fact by saying stuff like, 'even if he wasn’t an overrated Spanish film director, Alphonse still had the Orwellian stink of a Big Brother about him and it was probably better this way for the oppressed and huddled masses'. What. Ever.
Anyway, I’ve shut the door on Vault 101 and I hope that there aren’t any visitors expected any time soon. They’re going to find one hell of a mess in there and it’s not going to be a three minute job with some Spray & Wipe. (Spirit Guide’s humming some annoying old tune, now).
Diary, I don’t know if my excuses are going to stand up that well if any other authorities try and look into what happened in there. I mean, I had my reasons, but holy-crap it was so easy for everything to spin out of control. It was really nutso. I bet it’s that compressed environment that’s to blame.
But, I have this great feeling it’s going to be much better out here. Even though I lost my Birthday BB Gun in all the excitement, I can already feel a more positive vibe and the sky is such a pretty orange/yellow/brown/purple.
So, Diary, I’m just a girl who’s off to find her dad. Pip Boy 3000 tells me I’ve got three pistols, a couple of security batons, spare armour and half a carton of cigarettes. It’s light and I’m wearing a helmet. Hit it.
Overwriting data,
jules*
*Come on SG, work out how to correct my name, already.
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