The Misadventures Of Stockholm Knickerbocker by Edgar Vatrine (Aka Christopher Carlyle)-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stockholm Knickerbocker arose from slumber at the crack of Noon, as was his schedual. The unforgiving sun was beating down upon another sweltering New Vegas day. Rubbing the crust from his eyes, Stockholm stood and began to ready himself for the arduous day ahead.
First Thing's First, he thought, Pissing Excellence into a nearby trashcan. Once that particular bodily function was completed, he set about his Daily Ritual of combing and curling his immaculately well kept Mustache for precisely 25 minutes. After that, he licked his hand and slicked back his dark brown, prematurely balding hair and donned his favorite Porkpie Hat. To complete the ensemble, Stockholm slipped into a Black Gambler's Suit and put on his Reading Glasses. Finally, after a light breakfast of Snack Cakes and Radroach Meat, our hero set out into the streets of Primm.
The townspeople were all very busy this fine day, looting and disposing of the corpses left lying strung out all over the place thanks to Stockholm's wholesale slaughter of the Powder Gangers that had taken the town hostage. It seemed like just yesterday, brave Knickerbocker had walked into the Bison Steve and gave those convicts the old One-Four.(It most likely felt that way to Stockholm because, it did, in fact, happen yesterday.)
Well, he remembered,
To be fair, that Deputy sort of helped a little. Brigham? Busboy? Beatle? Beatle! That was it. In addition to ransacking the town, the Escaped Prisoners had taken Beatle, the town's Deputy, ransom. Because the residents of Primm were too elderly or female to deal with a gaggle of rapists, murderers, and litterbugs, they instead asked our protagonist to take care of the problem and save their Deputy. Stockholm, foolishly believing that the ungratefull peasents would be paying him for this task, eagerly accepted. When all was said and done, Beatle was freed, the Powder Gangers were belly up, and the Town of Primm was safe once again.
Whilst walking down the main drag, Stockholm heard someone calling out to him. he turned to see the Deputy he was just reminising about waving to him and yelling obnoxiously.
"Hey! You! Yeah, fancy pants," shouted the very rude law enforcer, "Who do you think you are? Walking on in here and destroyin my life, huh?"
"I say old boy, we seem to have a bit of a misunderstanding," replied our evercourteous Knickerbocker, "You see, twas I whom saved you from the clutches of those Dastardly Dobaders, thus
preserving the life in question, not
Destroying as you incorrectly claim."
"Yeah, well, you got me fired. That dang Robot says I ain't efficient enough to be Deputy to him. Ya know who he hired to replace me? A Gosh Darn Vending Machine!" exclaimed an angry Beatle.
"Here Now Lad! I know you are quite miffed about your current predicament, but there is no call for that kind of Language!" scolded Stockholm.
"You can go straight to H E Double Hockey Stick for all I care mister! I wish you never came here. At least I still had a job when I was a hostage. They might not have even killed me."
"You are correct, they would not have ended your life. They most likely would have gussied you up as a woman and taken turns having relations with you. Tell me sir, is that outcome more tantilizing then unemployment?"
"well... no...not really...But,"
"But Nothing! Now apoligise for acting a fool and begin searching for employment elsewhere. I've heard good things about Mole Rat Husbandtry."
"I can't do nothing but Deputy things... Hey, Can I come with you? I could be like a bodyguard or something."
"Well... I don't know. You did just spend the last 10 minutes yelling obscinities at me..."
"Aw come on boss! I'm real sorry! Please," pleaded Beatle.
"Alright. It's fine I suppose, so long as you don't expect monetary compensation of any kind, we can travel together."
" 'slong as I get paid, we're gonna get along just dandy," Beatle said.
And with that, our hero and his new sidekick set off into Mojave. All of a sudden, Stockholm stopped, realising he had no idea where he was headed. Couldn't go north to Goodsprings, the people there were still hostile he imagined. After being found shot in the head, the town Doctor, Mitchell, had laboriously and selflessly gone about reconstructing Stockholm's cranium. Sadley, Mitchell's house had burned down when our hero touched the Vigor Tester Machine, causing it to burst into flames. Or was it because of that fire he caused by dikeing around with that Chemistry Set? Either way Goodsprings wasn't an option. So, looks like Mojave Outpost it is! He thought, and gleefully set off in that general direction.
Two minutes and forty seven seconds later, they were jumped by Raiders. Beatle, whose name turned out to be Beagle, was the first to spot them.
"Hey there fellow travelers," He yelled, attracting their attention, "How y'all doin'? We're goin' on an Adventure!"
"This ass hole for real?" the man with spiked hair asked to his comrades.
"Does it matter? We're still gonna get our murder on up in this [censored] right?" replied his bald friend.
"Oh hellz yeah, just tryin to make conversation, ya know?"
"Shut it ladies, it's gametime," said the woman in the group.
The two groups met halfway and exchanged greetings, with Knickerbocker leading off by saying,
"Good Day fellow travelers! Wonderous day for a stroll is it not? I must say, you have a very unusual hair style but you mange to pull it off quite splendidly! What products do you use?"
"Oh, you like," asked Spike,"It takes me ForEEEEEEver to get it perfect in the mornings, but I think it's worth it. And don't even get me started on how hard it is to find hair gell post Armageddon..."
"SILENCE!" barked baldy, drawing a 10mm from it's holster, " We're robbing you guys, not playing gossip girl at the salon. Had over everything you got and we'll kill you fast."
"That sounds like a fair trade," Said Beagle as he began to take off his gear.
"Beatle, stop that foolishness!" said Stockholm, and then turning to the brigands, he said "I'm sorry old bean, but we are unable to acquiesce to your demands. I hope you understand."
"Oh, we do," replied the woman venomously as she pulled a knife out of her pocket.
"Yeah... sorry bro, but rules is rules," said Spike as he reluctantly readied his shotgun, "Love the 'stashe though."
Knowing that polite discourse is out of the question, our hero readies himself for battle, as for plan of attack, Stockholm decides to.......
1) Drop A 'Bow on these Hooligans with his Brass Knuckles
2) Bust a Cap in these Ne'er Do Wells with his Trusty 9mm Pistol.
3) Run A Train on these Rapscalions with his Coveted Railway Rifle.
» Sat Sep 10, 2011 3:51 pm 
