By visualartist on Skatehive
Once upon a time in the post-apocalyptic wasteland of Fallout, there was a ghoul named Gary. Now, Gary wasn’t your average, everyday ghoul; he was a gun-slinging legend with a sense of humor as dry as the desert sands. Gary’s claim to fame was his ability to shoot the cap off a Nuka-Cola at fifty paces, blindfolded, with one hand tied behind his back. He was the fastest draw in the west... well, what was left of the west. One day, Gary strolled into a saloon, his spurs clinking with every step. The saloon was as silent as a crypt when he entered, save for the jukebox playing a crackly rendition of “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head.” He sauntered up to the bar and ordered a drink – a “Ghoul-Aid,” he called it – which was just irradiated water with a twist of mutated lemon. As he sipped his drink, a band of raiders burst through the door, hooting and hollering. “This is a stick-up!” they shouted, waving their weapons around. But before they could even finish their sentence, Gary had already