Be it ever so humble

The epic quest to find a better bed.

The solution was pretty simple, really. Victor, the crazy robot that dug me up and apparently works for Mr House on the Vegas strip, had a shack here in town. I figure that I should check that out.
I thought that, since I met Victor in the Vegas Strip, the shack would be abandoned. I very nearly panicked when I saw the looming form of a Securitron outside the shack’s entrance. I’m all about the looting, and an active servant of Mr House isn’t part of that plan.
Luckily, before I freaked out I notice that, rather than Victor’s happy cowboy face (or the stern cop’s face of a standard Securitron), the screen of this unit was just static and snow.

I pause in front of the inert Securitron for a moment, before perusing the only logical course of action – I blast the bot with my shotgun and hide its remains in the bushes behind the shack. Crisis averted!
Then, as an afterthought, I rip anything that looks valuable out of its steel shell. That’ll teach you for saving a stranger’s life!

For a small shack, the robot’s is surprisingly well set up. Bathroom, kitchen, a bed and plenty of work space. There is one small problem.

I am deeply uncomfortable about the number of beds in this room

I am deeply uncomfortable about the lack of multiple beds in this room

Hmmm. Lily’s going to have to sleep on the mattress up at the shop, because the alternative is sure as hell not going to work. It’ll be good to have a security guard in there during the night anyhow.

I guess I can add, “Making a mentally ill grandmother sleep in a mattress on the floor of my shop, while guarding my ill-gotten gains,” to Joe’s list of shame.

Weeks later and Goodsprings is everything I hoped it could be. With the store, plenty of water, plenty of food and a saloon, my life is pretty much set.

Step right up, everybody! Step up and see the wonders here at Honest Joe’s!

Step right up, everybody! Step up and see the wonders here at Honest Joe’s!

The time flies by… but it does highlight a very specific paradox. This is the perfect environment for me to live in. Everything I need is at my fingertips… Unlimited free water, plenty of game and traders that stock the necessities. And the folk around these parts seem fairly indifferent to the fact that Lily is a giant, blue, freakish mutant.
And aside from the plentiful hunting, the other thing that sets Goodsprings apart from other places I’ve been, like Jacobtown and Westside, is the Saloon. A liquor store is nice, but it’s not the same as a Saloon, where you’re with other people. It makes the chronic drinking problem seem less lonely and pathetic.

The problem is that there is really very little point in recounting these tales for you, because frankly it would bore you. There was no running, no screaming, no crazy mutant creatures putting my life at risk… just a nice slow, country lifestyle.
Whenever I got hungry I’d go hunting in the surrounding hills… hunting gecko, coyote or (if I was willing to walk through the night) bighorner. Hell, at one stage I shot one of those giant blowflies, and used local plant life and a little wine to make a perfectly serviceable casserole. Sadly, I’m not quite sure I’m ready to diversify into wasteland cookery classes quite yet.

Even Lily seems happy here. The other day, while chasing down a young gecko that was foolishly trying to avoid my cookpot, I overheard her listening to an old recording of her grandchildren. It was really rather sweet, and I can’t help but wonder if the country air is doing her some good.

Even with the promise of growing a franchise, could Joe really be as happy anywhere else?

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