When last we left our intrepid Freeway Warrior, we were deciding whether or not to investigate the source of a radio signal. Ever adventurous, we decided to go for it:
Sadly, we do not possess a CB Radio, much to my chagrin. I think every post-Apocalypse story ought to feature these handy devices, along with a gimmee-cap with a Confederate flag on it. Imagine how much more fun "Road Warrior" would have been if Mel Gibson had to come up with a CB Handle. "Breaker breaker one nine, this is the Angry Beaver, come on."
But I digress.
Well crap on a stick, Pop, that sure as heck would've been handy a time or two in this little misadventure before, wouldn't it? What else does this selfish bastard have hidden in that satchel -- food, water, salt tabs, that "How not to crash your car after the Apocalypse" booklet we ordered?
You know, at this point I think the authors are clearly displaying a lack of awareness of the mind set of their typical reader which, if I may sum up, is "Loot everything, kill everything else." There should never, ever be a decision point where they are asking us "Do you want to loot this" because I am pretty sure the answer will be "YES!" in approximately 100% of the cases.
However, lest I be chided for taking control out of your hands, I dutifully offer up the choice to you, loyal readers:
Haha,this is making me chuckle.
Let’s search that station! We might find a booty of missing Neil Diamond tracks!
Loot!
I agree, LOOT!!!
I hope when we signed off on Doctor Drool’s behalf that we used his name and not ours. Because when you’re trying to cross a lot of country without drawing attention to yourself, broadcasting your location on the radio is probably not the best way to do it.
I doubt we’ll find anything we really need here, but since we are here, we might as take a loot. Er, look.
A moment of silence for Doctor Drool–arch nemesis of the Grandtastic 5.
Let’s loot the joint. Since this is sci-fi, if we find any records we’d be able to use them as weapons to decapitate Mad Dog’s goons.
Hope we find those incredible batteries that kept the station on the air for EIGHT FRIGGIN’ YEARS after the power grid failed. Oh, right, “solar power.” Also called “magic.”
You know, I think we should just head back, because….OH COME ON!!! Of course we’re going to take a look around for something useful. We’re already here.
I’m all for looting as long as we get to do a little pillaging while we’re there.
Hmm. Bad move. We turned the transmitter off. That’s not at all conspicuous, is it? We’ve got more stuff than we can carry already and a radio station isn’t going to be full of helpful survival gear. I vote we vamoose before the evil guys turn up.
I like the sound of looting, but I get the feeling there might be someone hanging around here who wants to kill us. It can’t all be this simple -we go to an abandoned radio station with a dead DJ and we turn off the transmission-, can it?
“Loot and Pilllage… Loot and Pillage…
Goes together like sack and Village!” 😀
I agree with fuzztone and Trekkie. And I get the feeling we’re leaving this sacred convoy alone far too often.
And by the way, what’s going on with the hooker we picked up early on? I think maybe Uncle Jonas is keeping her in his satchel, if you know what I mean.
p.s. I don’t know what I mean.
Obviously not. Someone just over the hill has been listening to the broadcast all this time, and now that it has stopped, he’s charging in with guns blazing to complain that his daily dose of radio humdrum has been canceled. Obviously we’re the focus of his rage and as soon as he kicks our back fender as we try to speed away our car does a double flip and we die. Again. 😉
Meanwhile, let’s loot the heck out of this place.
I have to join the Voices of Cowardi- I mean Voices of Caution in this. What are we hoping to find in an abandoned radio station? Don Imus’s career?