Back again forum goers. Got a whole new idea for you ladies and gents. As always type to me what you think and I'll keep taking heed to your advice and adding sections. Enjoy!
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Part One


"Hold on there Johnny boy. Slow down. What do you want to do?"

Tim rubbed his eyes vigorously as he tried to come to an understanding of what his friend wanted to do. Johnny wasn't one for many ideas except for killing radroaches and picking up useless power armor. What did he want to do this time? Johnny stood up from his humble little rock and began to sputter out some syllables.

"What if we invented our own music Tim? What if us two simple dudes could create an entirely new genre? Wouldn't that be friggin' awesome?!"

"Well what the hell are you thinking about doing man? What hasn't Bing Crosby or Roy Brown or Ella Fitzgerald done that we could do better?"

"Listen then my good man. What we do is have regular music playing in the background. It could be anything to be honest. And then we, or me, could supply some poignant poetry around it."

Tim actually smiled in acceptance, also getting up from his seat.

"Poetry with music eh? That actually sounds fresh man. What would you call this new genre?"

Johnny took some time to think of something.

"How about Hip-Hop."

"Is that relevant to the music? I mean it?"

"Of course not silly. It's just a cool name. You like cool names right Tim?"

"You got me there Johnny boy. But let's be real here man. We don't have the luxuries to just nonchalantly work on music. Don't we?"

"Calm down my friend. We'll work it out. Don't you want to be part of something bigger than your existence? We could bring this idea through the whole Capital Wasteland. What'd be next? The whole East Coast and then the world! Do you want to be remembered as a statistic or as someone who changed music itself?"

Johnny was right and Tim knew it. He'd rather die for a valiant cause than for some blowfly meat. What could he lose from this beside his life? Dignity? Food? Wealth?uh let's forget about that for now.

"Ah alright Johnny, I guess we have nothing to lose. Let's do this for Hip-Hop!"

Original as allways. It doesnt make sense, but I can say its original. Keep going Kumite, your up for two christmas writing awards and if my votes count, you'll get both.

Well. This is different. And quite funny. So basically, it is about two people in the Wasteland making there own genre of music? Original indeed!

A kind WTF from me. Seriously, you sound like the Wasteland is an interesting place to be. Keep it up.

Another section. Comments and criticism would be wonderfully wonderful. Enjoy the read!
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Part Two


It has been four days. Nothing done. Johnny and Tim sat beside their crude fire as they put some Salisbury steak onto the embers. What was such a great idea had now fizzled out a bit. Something had to be done.

"You know what Tim? We don't have our Hip-Hop names."

"We need aliases?"

"Of course we do. Everybody?uh?yeah."

"So what do we call ourselves? Got any ideas?"

John looked at the Salisbury steak he just took off of the fire. Lights were flickering in his head. Bingo.

"I'll be Killa Kaets."

"Isn't Kaets just steak backwards? That isn't?"

"I at least have a name! What do you want to be?"

Tim was quite conflicted as he tried thinking of a name. What would he want to be remembered as? He needed something that was neat yet not demeaning to his family or the kids. He'd at least need to be a positive influence in these tumultuous times.

"Times up Tim. You'll be Yankee Yrubsilas." Tim stood up in protest after Johnny stumbled over the name.

"That's a stupid name! That's just Salisbury backwards!"

"Exactly my friend. Don't you see what I'm getting at? Together we are Salisbury steak! That's our group man! Don't 'ya dig it?"

"Ok then. It does have a nice ring to it Johnny and?"

"Hold on there buddy. With the creation of our new names we create a new identity. You must call me Killa Keats, Killa, Keats, Timmy K, Timmy Keats, Tim Keats, or Keats K. Sound good?"

"Sounds good?Johnny boy." Tim chuckled.

It was time for the two to move on. They could have semi-cool names, sure, but they needed to remembered for their music. The quest for background music was on. I wonder what they'll find in a post apocalyptic waste. Any bets?

Funny, original, a good read. Definately a new look on the wasteland life, I actually kinda want to know what Killa Keats is going to do next. 10/10

Uh-huh. This is pretty damn far-out, even for you, Kumite. Good read.

I consider that a compliment Vallen. As long as I can push the boundaries of what can be written then I'm satisfied. Here's part three to the tale. Happy reading!
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Part Three


To Salisbury steak's surprise, not much music could be found in the Capital Wasteland. They knew about GNR radio, sure. But would they risk their limbs trying to go through downtown DC to get there only to be shot down by Three Dog? Hell no! They also tried this lady that had some antennae over her house. Problem was that she wanted them to go into some vault to get her violin. Don't think so. What was going on here? What would seem like the easiest part was taking them forever. A week had past and they had no music to rhyme over. What were they going to do?

"What are we going to do John? We've been slaving over finding music for a week. We're running low on supplies man." Johnny could only wrap his arm around his friend's shoulder for comfort.

"Chill my brother, chill. Things happen for a reason."

As the two walked through the trepid hills they encountered a group of painted tin men walking past them. They avoided eye contact, concealing their weapons as they hurried past them. Suddenly one of 'em uttered something.

"Shouldn't you locals be banging rocks together or something?"

The insult blew over Johnny An idea suddenly came into his head. Bang. Rocks. Together. Brilliant! Ding Ding Ding!

"Yrubsilas, I got an idea!" Tim didn't look at all pleased. Turning back to the tin men on the horizon.

"Did you hear what they said? Look at them! They are wearing [censored] metal hats with red paint on their tin armor! Talk about prehistoric?jackasses."

"Who cares what they think. Come see here." John ran down to a rock bed with Tim curiously following. What idea had Johnny come up with next? John perused the bed and found two satisfactory stones. With that he threw them over to a skeptical Tim.

"There's our music my friend." Johnny announced proudly.

"Are you serious? My God?we are cave men!"

"You got any better ideas? Why don't we go back to that Agatha and promise to get her violin from that dangerous vault? How about we go down to DC and see if we can avoid the Super Mutants and head over to GNR? I'm sure Three Dog wouldn't mind us stealing his music."

Tim only could nod his head in agreement. He'd been beat again.

"Touch? Mister Keats. I guess we just need the lyrics. Let's get out of here before we get insulted some more by those freaks."

Nice chapter. And it was a compliment, I love the wierd, almost outlandish topics for your fanfics.

Laughed out loud at the "rocks" bit. This one is fantastic

The fourth section is here! More nonsense! Comment as you will. Thanks and enjoy!
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Part Four


With their rocks in hand, the boys traveled all the way to Megaton in order to refill on supplies. After that was said and done they hunkered down at Moriarty's to grab a drink and bring Salisbury steak's concept to fruition.

"Got any lyrics Johnny boy?" Tim asked as he handed his partner a bottled brew.

"I got a bit right here Yankee Yrubsilas. Here, tell me what you think."

Tim took the crumpled piece of notebook paper and took a gander at the 'poetry' that Killa Kaets mustered.

Honey, check it out, you got me mesmerized
With your black hair and fat-ass thighs
Street poetry is my everyday
But yo, I gotta stop when you trot my way
If I was workin' at the club you would not pay
Aiyyo, my man Phife Diggy, he got somethin' to say

"Hold on here John. There are some problems here man."

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you talking about 'street' poetry? We don't exactly have any streets around here in this Wasteland pal."

"Of course we do. I cannot say 'crumbling and dilapidated' street poetry. Wouldn't have the same flow right?" Tim took another sip of his beer as he continued his complaints.

"What kind of clubs are out here? There ain't any Pre-War hoopla night clubs out now." Johnny could only stutter as his friend urged more syllables out.

"And who is this Phife Diggy? Where's me? Where's Yankee Yrubsilas? Huh? You got some explaining to do pal!"

"Actually Tim?I do." Tim stood back flabbergasted.

What was he talking about? Did he come from the future or something? What stupid thing was he going to tell him? Had he found a new partner? Johnny took a huge gulp of his drink and began his explanation.

"Those lyrics?are already part of a Hip-Hop song."

"Wait a minute. I thought we invented Hip-Hop. We're the only act in existence at this point. What the [censored]!"

"I know, I know. Take another swig, you might not believe what you're about to hear."

"What are you talking about Johnny boy?" John took a breath and another swig.

"I'm from the year 2020. At that time the prototype of the time machine was created. Of course it was unstable and only a few were in stock and away from the general public. I was 'lucky' enough to be the janitor at one of those companies. I snuck in and wanted to go back in time."

"Well 2077 ain't exactly going back in time."

"Learned that the hard way my friend. I think I actually went into another dimension when I came here but that was unbeknownst to me. In truth my only desire was to be known as the sole creator of Hip-Hop. It was already a music genre in my dimension. I wanted to make a name for myself you see. I didn't want to be known as Employee of the Month but as Johnny West aka Killa Kaets, the inventor and originator of the Hip-Hop genre."

Tim tried to take into heart what his friend just said. It made little to no sense but there was little he could do. I mean it seemed pretty rushed together with a lot of plot holes. Why would a time machine push you forward in time? Why would a time machine put you in another dimension? Why a time machine? What to make of it?

"Glad you understand Yrubsilas. Hey, let's put on a show for these people in the bar. What do you say? Salisbury steak's first gig!"

Heh..nice twist there. Time machines, huh? It doesnt beat angels as radroaches, but its still pretty out there. Good job.

The final section to this story. Please type me what you think and I'll be satisfied. Also want to thank all that voted for me in those awards. Guess it shows I'm doing somehting right. Enjoy!
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Part Five


Tim took out the rocks and waited for Johnny's call. How the hell would this work anyway? Perhaps John practiced some rhymes already. He did say that he already knew a lot about Hip-Hop. But who was he kidding anyhow? John did say he got here in a [censored] time machine after all. Was it hopeless? Eh?yeah.

"People of Megaton, how you doing?!" Tim announced to the bar. Nobody seemed to care as they took attention to their drinks.

Both Tim and John notice two men enter the bar looking mighty suspicious. John made out one as a Mister T and Clint Eastwood mix and the other as some jumpsuit Vault boy. Not the kookiest of characters he'd seen in his time. Another try at getting the bar's attention then.

"I'm talking here?hello!"

"[censored] you!" Someone screams from the corner. Laughs fill the bar with one of the few moments of merriment. Johnny boy doesn't know what to make of it. He motioned Tim to bang the rocks together. Seriously? Here it goes?

BANG BANG BANG-A BANG BANG

"Not much rhythm there Tim. Try again and?"

BANG BANG-A BANG BANG

"Tim, come on! You're making the people scream and moan!"

"What?! That wasn't me you moron!"

"Wait?what?"

Salisbury steak observed the mess before them. The two weirdoes, Vault boy and Mr T, were sprawled on the floor with nice lead buttons in their apparel. Smoke rose from the gun of a suave stranger. He concealed his pistol once more as Tim dropped his rocks. Holy?

The man surprisingly walked up to Tim and John. Did he want some Hip-Hop to soothe the soul?

"I'm looking to employ an individual with no ties to Megaton, no interest in its future."

Tim and John could only glance at each other in curiosity. Their big break had arrived?stardom at last.

FIN

The whole time-travel thing was pretty tacked-on, in my opinion, but the ending was amusing and wrapped it up nicely.

Thanks Attentater. In hindsight the time machine thing was a bit unnecessary (probably the reason I made fun of it in the story). I'm glad I was able to make up for it somehow in the end. I'll take what I learned here and incorporate said lesson into my next story. Still got some gas in my tank of zany ideas. I'll see how far it can take me.

....eh. Not my favorite of yours. I likes Accounts of an Arthropod and Slave to the System better. Nice Wrap-up with mister burke.

I liked the end but the time-machine thing didn't really seem to change anything and was just confusing (at least I think so). Good except for the time machine.

New story started.

http://www.gamesas.com/bgsforums/index.php?showtopic=1064555