Freedom Arms, Thursday
Today, Herc had taken a delivery of hot pink, zebra print crowbars.
The problem was that he couldn't decide if they were a legitimate delivery, since hey, a crowbar made a pretty good bludgeoning tool, or one of the massive errors that seemed to plague the island's distribution system. He'd opted on the side of 'never know when you might need a crowbar,' and was working on entering them into the inventory and figuring out how to set up a display of something so eye-searing.
Max was chewing on a squeaky bacon toy.
Freedom Arms? Open.
The problem was that he couldn't decide if they were a legitimate delivery, since hey, a crowbar made a pretty good bludgeoning tool, or one of the massive errors that seemed to plague the island's distribution system. He'd opted on the side of 'never know when you might need a crowbar,' and was working on entering them into the inventory and figuring out how to set up a display of something so eye-searing.
Max was chewing on a squeaky bacon toy.
Freedom Arms? Open.