Daryl began his descent from Stoner Mountain, and felt light-headed due to the effects of the Blue Dream and the Bubba Kush. They brought back fond memories of his sea voyage trips of his youth to Holland, where he partook in the finest cannabis dispensaries in the world such as Greenhouse, Bobba, Pink Floyd, 7th Heaven , and Rasta Baby. Unfortunately, all of that had become radioactive in the third post-modern nuclear war. You would never be able to eat a space-cake and wander around the Amsterdam Zoo (and Brewery) while waiting to go on the Heineken Brewery tour again. Sometimes he wished he was back in the Red Light District of Amsterdam ($10 suck or fuck?), where the brothels were in bright red, beside the softly yellow lit canals, and cobblestone roads. If only he had had a dollar for every person who passed that asked if he wanted to buy drugs. After awhile, it had become annoying. People could ruin anything.
The sun was rising behind him as he took a shortcut through the first, smaller ridge. Suddenly as he passed the second larger ridge he saw a robotic mountain lion which was eyeing one of the locals who was pacing along the way. It was over 200 pounds and alternated between sitting on its hind legs, and spider-manning along behind the shoulder of its victim. The beast knocked the man down the shoulder. Stunned and unable to respond, the jugular was ripped out. As Daryl panicked, he heard Discovery Channel type African drumbeats in his head, and things started spinning in a 360. A second mountain lion stood on its hind legs in Daryl’s blind-spot. As it attacked him, he used Shirley to shield himself from the beast, and she was completely shredded (body-wise). The monster then headed off with her torso into the brush, appeased for now to guard his meal. Luckily, Daryl was able to hold onto her head, which contained her CPU, so he could always attach that to another body. Also this made it easier to pedal. And the cannibal girl was usually close by, hiding behind stuff. And from the distance she grinned too. Daryl had gotten tired of the sexbots body anyhow. It was a time for change. Maybe he would go knave. Rob the sexbot factory or something.
There was another problem though, he realized as he made his path down towards the Coastals. Inbreds in hot air balloons made out of human corpses, and hang-liders made from recycled beer cans were now an issue. There were too many of them to out-run. So he decided to put on a show instead. He got out his hand-cranked little amp and megaphone, and had Shirley’s head do back-up vocals.
He tried to lighten the mood with some humor, which remained a hot commodity in the bleak future, since it was rare. “So how you all doin’ tonight? I see that most of you were able to outrun your cousins. When your town assembles, another name for that is a full set of teeth,” and so forth. One guy fired a shot at him after that. After all: in the future, if you bomb, they kill you. After another failed “how many GovCorp workers does it take to screw in a lightbulb?” attempts he decided he better start to play some (vintage) Southern Styled Pantera-like power metal. Needless to say the Inbreds really enjoyed this, and they started to mosh and punch each other in the face.
“Goal is for total destruction Needless violence is my fashion statement I hope that you will understand The Need to Pulverize!” and just other meaningless drivel, which nevertheless totally captivated the Inbreds. He learned that these dudes did like, in fact, run a small record label, which consisted of a Hamm radio which projected from a solar powered generator, in a mud-brick hut. But he decided to conserve demos. Since he did not think they would like an early Asphyx influenced band as much.