Dear Diary,
I was looking forward to dropping in on Spirit Guide’s lady friend.
You see, Mum died when I was born (I think) and I haven’t had much girl company since. It would have been nice to have a big sister to ask the stuff I can’t ask Dad. It’s always hard with him. Not just because he’s Liam Neeson pretending to be my Dad, but also because he’s a little bit of a dork and a lot absent. He’s a Deadspace Dad.
My new gal pal’s house looked fantastic compared to the other places in the street. It had walls and a roof. People in the wastelands don’t seem to have much houseproudness. Would it kill them to paint? It’d make a huge difference to the mood and I bet the mood isn’t helped by their property values.
But Spirit Guide doesn’t make it easy to meet people. What is his problem with knocking? I went up to the lady’s house, all ready to say,
“Hi, I’m Jules, you don’t know me but my Dad probably came through here and I was wondering if we couldn’t hang out a bit and I could pick your brains. I’ve got cigarettes, some strange meat that I found… don’t worry, booze, lots of ammo, cigarettes, ammo and some cigarettes.”
SG, on the other hand, likes to get doors open and enter quickly - quite often making me get down behind something as I go. It’s so unfair. He’s got shyness issues but I end up looking like the weirdo.
And, you know, because of that, I can sort of see why she got all huffy. One minute she’s seeing her last client out of the side door, giving herself an injection and having a cuppa in the kitchen; the next, there’s a grubby, heavily armed, hella-spunk-bubble (me) in her living room, going through her stuff.
She had a teensy bit of a temper on her. No excuse for such bad manners in the wasteland. I did end up picking her brains, mostly out of my clothes.
So I was off for another lonely walk. Pip-Boy’s compass let me know what direction to go and by my current standards, the walk was uneventful. I ransacked a few places and killed all of everything that I saw, but otherwise, OK.
I feel kind of bad about killing the molerats. I mean, they are as ugly as a hat full of arseholes, but there’s something a bit ‘family dog’ about them. ‘Specially the way they stand up at urinals. (What? You never seen that? Times have changed.)
What there is nothing family dog about - is the dogs. Man. The targeting system I picked up back in the vault allows for a bit of slow motion as you go into combat mode. It’s called VATS or something. All I know is, you get to see how much mange, ringworm, roundworm, flatworm, hookworm, heartworm, footworm, flukeworm and bald patches, these dogs have. Paint and flea powder. That’s what the wasteland needs. Oh, and fly-spray. The bloatflies are ridiculous.
Diary, I can see Megaton on the horizon and I am so excited. A lonely gal is going to get a shower, a nice hotel, do some shopping, hang out and who knows, maybe even meet a nice guy.
Overwriting data
Jules.
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