#witch museum

Just another game that you played

Deadman and Graverobber stand outside their humble home, basic planks, a few shelves, two beds, and a tin roof. The structure is held together by repurposed parts, scavenged screws and nails, and a lot of hard work. Deadman, the taller of the duo, at six foot two, admires the place from the broken street with Graverobber, five ten, respectively, at his side. Their brahmin, laden with whatever the two decide is worth anything, chews grass across the road. 

“Sixty thousand caps, a lot of man hours, and a shit ton of bandaids, we got our own little house, bubba.” Deadman remarked.

“Yeah. We’re finally established. Too bad we’re so east of everything, and the witch museum is right down the road, and we have almost no protection from rads, but it’s awesome, man.” 

“I’m choosing to ignore your negativity. Nothing can bring me down today.”

A multicolored insect flies by the two, and both say the same thing: “Oh, look! A butterfly!” As they point and marvel at the insect, remarking that they haven’t seen one since the old word, the giant Deathclaw chasing the bug, tears through their newly constructed home, rendering it to splinters. They both hold the smile as long as they can, but Deadman breaks first, sighing heavily and turning his steps west. Graverobber quickly does the same, launching a question at his friend: “Gonna get drunk?” “Gonna get drunk.” Was the reply.