Slyfox

Virgin Street or Whore Road

The Road To Reno is a hard road, and some roads are harder than the rest. For example, on the one side, you may just get radiated by mutated things until you can compete with Reno for lighting up the night sky. On the other side, you can get ripped to shreds by deathclaws. And then, of course, there are the gangs of yakuza and mobsters.

Dongo and Harold, as you might know if you bothered reading the last chapter, were last journeying from Dustbag to Reno. Nobody knows where Dustbag is, as it is what is known in upper circles as a “broken quest”, so they didn’t have any problems getting there, seeing as they weren’t travelling from anywhere that actually existed. Nifty trick, that.

Finally they topped a rise and before them sprawled the Biggest Little City in The World. Ah, what a sight. Apart from the black cloud of decaying human, ghoul, brahmin or otherwise emanating from Golgotha due south of Reno, it was quite a sight. Ask yourself this, how often do you see a city where every person crossing the road is a whore? Hm, well… take a look out of your window, then.

If Satan walked the Earth, he’d probably make Reno his home town, although some of those Picked Guys/Chosen Ones/Selected People really come close! Coincidence or not, most of them like Reno as much as he would.

Drugs, booze, sex, gangs, gambling, boxing and Golden Globes. The things your mother would have warned you about, had she not been a gambling crack whore herself.

Dongo strolled down the road, leering at the prostitutes. First, he was going to get himself a drink down at the Shark Club. As he walked into the casino, several gamblers started cussing severely as their winning streaks were suddenly inverted. A man who fired his gun at a really bad comedian shot his own face off. The drug addict in the bathroom OD’d and died. Dongo was in town and performing, all right.

He turned to the bartender. “What’s on tap?” (”So… uh… why did the radscorpion cross the road?”)

“Beer, whiskey and rotgut.” (”Cause the radscorpion… uh, it wanted to get away from the radioactive fallout particles…”)

“Think I’ll get a beer. Uh… Harold?” (”Uh, the joke, see, since it was already a mutant, it didn’t need to cross the road, so… uh…”)

“Beer, doc.”

“Uh… yeah. You heard the man… uh… lizard, bartender!” (”Heh-heh. Gecko… ghouls, right? Ghouls… man, do they stink.”)

The bartender pushed over the beers and Dongo forked over the cash. The bartender gestured to Harold. “Sure, but can you make him drink?” (”Uh… heh-heh… so, uh, ghouls right, they smell bad. So, like, uh…”)

Dongo pondered. Not about the bartender’s question, though. He was pondering, all right. Now, this is an extremely rare state to observe when dealing with this variety of homo sapidongian. He was pondering really hard, and the beer was only making it worse. (”Did I mention ghouls stink?”)

“Harold, do you know what we need?” (”Um, so I find this ghoul, right, I ask, ‘Are you guys envious that I don’t stink?’”)

Harold peered down his empty beer glass. “More beer.” (”He goes, ‘No. Uh, why do you ask?’”)

“No, that’s not it. We need… purpose… direction…” (”I said, because you’re green.”)

“Like I said, more beer.” (”Uh… green with envy. Get it?”)

“No, we need a… a… a plot! That’s it! We need to search for a plot! Yes…”

“I seem to remember hearing this somewhere else from a cat I once knew…” (”Radscorpions?”)

“…something to further the purpose of our being here on Eart– what?” (”What’s so rad about them?”)

“…it didn’t want to give me piggyback rides, though, so I left.” (”Who are these people that think mutated scorpions…”)

Dongo succeeded in entering his natural state of existence — thorough, utterly complete confusion.

“Never mind, doc. Let’s go find that plot you’re looking for.” (”Are so rad?”)

“But where shall we begin this incredible journey, Harold?” (”Heh-heh. Did you hear the one about the tribal who wiped out the Enclave?”)

“Arroyo, maybe. I heard about this really good plot that hatched there.” (”The tribal was sooo stupid that, uh, the tribal, right… uh, blew up their rig.”)

“But there’s nothing interesting there!” (”BOOM!”)

“Did I mention the scantily-clad females?” (”Did I mention the tribal was stupid?”)

“Let’s go.”

“I’m not against that bone in your nose, ma’am, but it’s kind of uncomfortably poking into my eye here…”