Chronic Apathy's blog

T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the Wastes,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Dave.
Gore bags were hung by the Bobbleheads with care,
In hopes that no Mutants attacked in pairs.

Nova was nestled, all snug in her bed,
While Burke's corpse spooned her, minus its head.
And I, in my Duster and Trader's cap,
Settled down with Dogmeat for a long winter's nap.

When outside of Megaton there arose such a clatter,
I grabbed my Terrible Shotgun to see what was the matter.
Away to the gates I flew with a flash,
And saw Deputy Weld fall with a crash.

The moon on the ground where no plants could grow
gave the lustre of radiation like Ghouls that glowed.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a Radscorpion and Wastelander that cowered in fear.

A Yao Guai appeared, furry and thick,
And I aimed my Shotgun, steady and quick.
Hungry and venomous, the Radscorpion came,
And the Wastelander
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