Story: Jomo

Jomo was trembling a bit, although the stove was set to the max. He also felt a nasty emptiness in his stomach that wasn’t hunger. In fact, in front of him there was a juicy chunk of appetizing, fresh and clean meat. He tried it. With an effort. – Fuck me, I’m starvin’. – he thought. He felt a bit ill, like a heavy hangover.
After swallowing the first bite with a gulp of water – a really pure water – he felt better.
«Shit, it’s the bad mojo fever – he thought -. That’s my brain, pissed off and fuckin’ me up. Well, I know this game. Eating and a couple of nights of good sleep and it will be over. Well, the first night I won’t be able to sleep because my head won’t let me. But the second I will. Yes, the second night I will be so tired that I will sleep a lot and then I will be fine. This cave is safe. I am alone and I’ve got everything I need. I can spend two nights here, or more if I want. I had this same feeling when I had to leave Iloveny in that hut, and then again when I got too close to The Twins and saw what was there».

At first Fran had struck him as another regular asshole, lost between Rusty Fullers and Splitmouth. There were few things alive in that part of the Wasteland, but the Wasteland was always full of assholes. If Jomo had known the word “paradox”, that would have been a hell of one.
As Fran was strong and healthy, and had a lot of bullets, and back then Jomo was really badly fucked up, that prick had no problem catching and tying him up. But he didn’t hurt him. He didn’t fuck him up his ass without asking for permission, or took all his stuff from him. Not even the metal teeth he had bought at Scamville and which made him so proud. Jomo was so proud of his metal teeth that he used to smile to the sun to make them shine and glitter. More than one or two pants had fallen to the ground only because of that radiant smile!
Fran was not from the Wasteland, although he liked to be called Wasteland Fran.
– Call me Wasteland Fran – he had said after capturing Jomo.

Fran liked adventures. «You really liked that andrilandrin thing, fuckin’ liar. You said you didn’t like the five daily hot meals you had at home, that home in which you had more clean water than you could possibly drink. So much water you could even spill it all over you to wash yourself!, you said. Fuckin’ lyin’ retard. But comin’ to the Wasteland to breathe dust, eat snakes and check your Geiger every hundred steps, yeah. That you liked. Fuckin’ lyin’ retard.
But you were a nice guy, Fran. You wanted a buddy and I was your buddy, eh? Fuck, how not to be! You had everything: bullets, awesome clothes cool by day and warm at night, that canteen you said that could get water from the air – what the fuck water from the air, fuckin’ liar? -, grade A medicines… You even had cool gadgets inside your head! You remember when you said “Jomo, it’s going to fall itchrain in ten minutes” “In ten what in the hell have you said?”, I answered. And you went “Minutes. Whatever, itchrain is falling in no time, right away. Let’s go into that cave”. And you were right! You had this thing in your head that could predict all kinds of shit: when itchrain was coming, that minute things, where were we, if someone was coming, where to find scrap! A lot of shit you knew».

They had a hell of a time. Now, oppressed by the sour feeling of emptiness that prevented him from eating faster, Jomo remembered how he had taught Fran to hunt cockrats and roast them without gettin’ poisoned, or the first time they traded bullets for thunderwater and then chased down and beat the crap out of the merchant to get their bullets back.

«Do you remember, Fran, those five days we spent with that couple of young scumbags we surprised near the Dice? We hide in one of those giant houses around there for the whole time. First we gave water and food to them in exchange for blowjobs. You didn’t want to fuck them properly. You said that was dangerous for the prifoxis, or the prolifisis or what the hell it was. You were always making up funny words. But on the third day you got really loaded up of thunderwater and wanted to bang them for good. But, of course, you were soaked in thunderwater and you couldn’t get a proper wood. Fuck, I laughed hard that day. At the end you got really pissed off and started beating one of the scumbags. That turned you on, eh, shithead? Well, I got turned on too so we kept the game running for another two days. Then the scumbags died and the laughs were over.
You know, Fran? That day I felt quite like today, with my guts and brains a little fucked up, but it was fainter. It got away soon. You were quite fucked up too, because you didn’t want to try the meat».

After that they went on as usual. Hunting, scavenging, fighting, drinking and fucking. With Fran’s gadgets everything was easier. There were three or four moons of living large. So large, Jomo grew a belly for the first time in his life. He liked to tap it and see how it rippled. He cracked his ass up with that. “You are such a retard, dude”, said Fran, laughing.
But sometimes, at night, Jomo discovered Fran with an empty stare, thoughtful, stern and silent. That didn’t happen at the beginning.
Cuddling by the stove, Jomo kept on munching and forcing himself to swallow the meat, while remembering all this. And as he was eating and thinking, his belly got full and his brains empty. He was finally calming down. «Fuck it, Fran, you asshole, you were returning home to eat hot meals and pour clean water over your head. Jomo saw that. Jomo could not let you do that. This is the fuckin’ Wasteland. Too many cool gadgets lost for Jomo. Too much meat lost for Jomo».

By Roberto Cantos

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