When I hit my first VendiYear I quit and transferred my money into a Westernland account. Time for a new mission. Time to move on.
There wasn't much I felt I could do, and more importantly there wasn't much I wanted to do, so I decided that it was time for me to become JohnnyBobo once and for all. Fuck it. There didn't seem to be any point in continuing to fight it. I wasn't worried because I felt now that Johnny Bobo, from where I was right here, right now, Johnny Bobo was just another mission. Like the others, it wouldn't last, and then I'd figure out something else and be done with the bastard forever. Maybe.
I hiked over to a good yuppie outdoor camping store, complete with a climbing wall and lots of gear advertised as "technical" and rated in ways by the Sierra Club that I suppose made middle class, urban, mostly white people excited. I outfitted myself with a good one-person tent, slim yet super strong, a zero degree Fahrenheit comfort-rated sleeping bag, and basic hiking gear, and walked out of that place just under six hundred poorer, but with much better boots.
I started hiking. I figured I'd lap around Ace City a few times, maybe map the best locations and trails, pretend to be an old school hobo and maybe put up signs and marks, something useful for the next generation. Then head into the wasteland, if I felt like it.
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THE DOG HUNTERS (completed)
General FictionA suicidal homeless weirdo has adventures. He runs into a duo of dog lovers, who spend their days traveling around the city observing and honoring dogs. Wisdom cannot be run away from. He escapes paradise and falls in love with a strange lady who m...
