"hello and welcome to hellhole sam's waterin' hole, may I take your order?" the three armed waitress asks.
"yeah, one fried ratburger and a bottle of glo-beer to wash it down please"
she twitches her eyebrow in surprise. "listen buddy, I have no idea what kinda joint you think this is but we've got waffles and coffee on the breakfast menu and that's it"
extremely embarassed you get your meal and try to pay with pre-war bullets.
they take dollars only
when you open up your bunker after years of waiting, immediately get flooded and drown because you didn't take rising water levels into account when building your survivalist haven
when u go to the weekly culling event and Clank shows up wearing the same rusted spike breastplate u are wearing
two years gone by. running low on food, running low on water, almost out of smokes. load up spare mags, grab the rifle. check everything off the list. kevlar vest, check. gas mask and spare filters? check. extra ammo, extra food, water? check. a deep breath as the bunker door opens up with a squeal of dry hinges.
*trips on rock, falls back down stairs, breaks neck*
when you wake up late for your interview at the raider gang and no clothing store on your way has a skull belt in your size
Standing in line at the half destroyed grocery store, an old lady in front of you is arguing over expired pre-war coupons and trying to pay with a check.
Look lady, can't you just speed this up and pay with a 50 pound bag of bottle caps like the rest of us?
You spent your entire life breaking into a patent office vault to fulfill your dream of reviving the wonders of the past but it only has blueprints for wifi enabled juicers.
When forced to decide between a love interest and a long time friend, you decide to kill, cook, and then feed your significant other to your starving best friend who is also a telepathic talking dog.
"uh, I think it's probably the carburetor is shot?"
Motor-Ola, the warlord covered in flip-phones from the long days ago, approaches my rig "haha, you dummy, there's not even an engine in this."
"WAO~" says someone in the audience, amazed by a simple layup. It's the thing that Americans yell when they yell, which is all the time.
Former Navy SEAL Jeff Caliber survived tier one special ops and is now studying creative writing at Sarah Lawrence College in New York. And fighting terrorists.
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