The people of Goodsprings are too trusting. I do a handful of good deeds and they'll fucking kill for me. If only they knew how much time I spend in their houses at night. I've made a fortune stealing their mildly useful items right out from under their noses and selling it to the local shop-keep. Dumb ass even commented on how familiar his silenced .22 looked right before ringing it up.
I spent hours standing over Trudy's slumbering body, silently deciding which to use: the tire iron, switchblade, or shovel. I passed out on her floor from sleep deprivation. before I could choose. She fed me in bed for a whole day after that, thinking I had radiation poisoning.
I don't care about them, I only care about getting to New Vegas. Every night I see those bold neon lights shining over the mountains. That cock sucker who left me for dead has no idea how hard I will kill him, and how much I will enjoy it.
P.S. While you've been reading this carefully placed note in this abandoned trailer, I've been behind you deciding over the aforementioned weaponry. Turn around to find out who the lucky winner is...
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