Open Letter from Somebody You All Love to Merc or Pee On, Not Necessarily in that Order
Let's get something out of the way up front: I am a WOMAN. Yeah, sorry, my deepest apologies for not keeping up with my eyebrow plucking regimen and regular Botox injections in the midst of a pesky, little apocalypse. I dress in layers because there's no HEAT at my shack in the woods. I'm a little older and grizzled, fine. Look, the last of the perfect 10s died about a month after Miss Universe went gray. We're grading on a curve now; I'm the new 10--the hottest post-apocalyptic hottie you're gonna see. And I'm dating the Lonely Elder, so how about you put that thing back in your pants before he goes full samurai on you and cuts it off? Chugging a beer and peeing on me was barely funny the first time.
Second: did I mention the shack? Yeah, I don't have fancy oak and steel walls, because I spend all my time farming medical supplies to keep the last of the human race from dying from diarrhea and the Clap. Did you notice my chopper parked at your base when I visit you EVERY DAY? No? Oh, gee, that's odd--wait, no, it's because I DON'T HAVE ONE. So, at the least, how about you offer a hard-working healer a fistful of mushrooms from the North for her other patients?
What, I suck for offering you a full refill of energy to travel the whole world at a moment that was inconvenient for you to maximize the use of it? Did you notice me patiently waiting here, by your busted-ass truck, every day at the same damn time? You can plan out an ATV, but not keep a schedule? Yes, sometimes I offer you the same stuff as last time--if you don't like it, call your HMO.
Also, speaking of standing around waiting on you--how about you invite a girl in to take a seat on your comfy couch and offer a hot cup of berry tea or something! Did chivalry die along with everybody else?
And while we're on that topic, have you noticed I wave every time I see you? And have you ever waved back? Yeah, like maybe once. That's cool. I'm just saying. Somebody here brings good things--precious, precious buffs--free of charge, and somebody else leaves their base unprotected--dogs hungry and turrets unfueled--and not one padlock on a single door. I can see your weapons stand through the window from here!
Sue and I talk about you behind your back. And the scuttlebutt is not favorable. Just, if the Raiders happen to point you at a "base" that is just an open field with "F" and "U" written in literal poop in big, old letters... yeah, we did it together, the five of us, and we laughed our asses off the whole time. Piss on that.
See ya tomorrow, buddy, same Bat time, same Bat channel,
P.S. You've gotten a new puppy at your truck every day since the first one. I'm taking them to raise a sled-dog team. Eat me.