Daryl had been so busy slaying rubble-dwellers, and hamming it up with the Brootals, that he had neglected his loyal pigeon and sexbot. He dispatched the bird with instructions to find a reliable power supply. Now that he had started finding band-mates he would need maximum voltage. “Fly as far as you must go. Take as long as necessary. Do not return until you find me a reliable power source,” he said, as the bird soared into the radioactive heavens, with his cute little post apocalyptic goggles on. “Fly onward, in the name of metal! Let the wind not carry you astray!”, he shouted, for inspiration.
Then he turned his attention his lovely sexbot Shirley. He had gotten tired of her hyper aggressive sexual setting. So he decided to trade in the SJW he was towing in chains behind the three wheel bike. He bartered it with one of the Brootals, who doubled as a sexbot repair shop. The repairman immediately dismembered and sold off the captives organs for ceremonial harvesting.
Some things never change. There was still a battle of the sexes, even after the end of civilization as we know it. The Brootals did have some human women slaves too, who always just so happened to be sleazy or backstab behind their boyfriends backs at the shows, some of that was enticed by meat-sharing (cannibalism). Shows were just one minute long, once a day due to power supply, and produced an orgiastic frenzy, with many left dead. These women generally annoyed the other crowd members, because they were always trying to be the center of attention instead of just part of the crowd. Also they only listened to metal in public. Privately, they were listing to Taylor Swift or even Katie Perry sometimes, which would be an automatic death sentence, like how it was with the Taliban in the old days, ironically. If the males ever found out, they would surely be thrown into the bloodbog. The more independent female Brootals listened to a bunch of under-noticed underground bands, and were not gf material. For one thing, they were tough, and would slay you and eat you in your sleep. So you couldn’t trust them. It was a dog eat dog world.
Now that Shirley’s sexual aggression setting was adjustable, he turned the knob back to 1. He turned her power supply on, but still he knew he would have to conserve her battery. She sprung to life. She was more subdued now, with those dull, tired, SSRI-like eyes.
“I want you to make love to me. Kiss me so deep. Caress my breasts!” And they bagan to elope. “Slide it into my ass. Have me in any way that you want to. Would you be interested in a threesome with another guy”
Suddenly Daryl’s metal ‘not-gay’ instincts kicked in. For better or worse, these instincts were inbred from multiple generations, having started with his great-great grandfather in the Florida scene back in the 20th century. He had never done anal on any of his prior girlfriends, and because there was no sanitization possible in the future, it just plain didn’t seem like a good idea. It was hard for Daryl to comprehend social change, due to his nature, which was mostly about conquering and slaying (musically and otherwise).
“No”, Daryl replied, as he quickly adjusted her knob back to 5, “I wish to make love like a normal couple would (before the Wars). Though we Deathmetalites have a wild image, we generally hold to rather socially conservative norms.”
Then, he realized it was silly trying to reason with a sexbot. And he began to fuck the shit out of her, while sucking on her lovely synthetic breasts, the 5 setting having turned out to be just fine after all. As Socrates once said: moderation is key! Little did Daryl realize, the cannibal girl who had become so attached to him was an evasion expert. Also, the undead ravens thought she was pretty cool, and gave her a pass through the bloodbog. With the setting lowered, the cannibal girl now came out from behind a pile of rotting corpses, where she was hiding. Finally, he was able to have the threesome with the cannibal girl and the sexbot that he had been hoping for. Thank God for the adjustable setting on the sexbot. A few of the Brootal ladies looked on in amazement, and the whole camp broke out at once into a giant orgiastic (and cannibalistic) frenzy, yet again.
Daryl spent a great amount of time with the cannibal girl and his band members for the next week or so , writing riffs, and feeding the shy petite brunette girl (who was over 18, not that this mattered after 3 postmodern nuclear wars). He shared portions of his canned bloodbog with her in between shags. He had never seen cannibal girl so happy. She really liked his Henous Wench Excoration demo alot. Though she couldn’t bear to tell him that You’ll Never See Heaven was her all time favorite, since it wasn’t in style anymore apparently. Maybe they were in love, he thought, realizing though if he ran out of food someday they might try and kill each other still, for some fine cuisine or to get cash. But at least he had this one Kodak moment in time for now.
Meanwhile, his loyal pigeon was headed south towards Latin America, and was buoyed by strong winds at his back, and minimal turbulence. Along the way the pigeon noted a promising band of locals in Panama. They were into a weak form of retro power metal, all wearing the same Atreyu and Iced Earth shirts. The good thing was that there seemed to be widespread power available.
Should the pigeon:
A) Make an extra stop to distribute demos to the power metalist colony?
B) Continue southwards
C) Immediately return back to Daryl to notify him