Don't do kids, drugs

[Names are for the Weak]

Andy had had a rough couple of days. His dog died of a heart attack, his wife was kidnapped by raiders, and he had no time for pleasure throughout the entire ordeal. All he wanted was a puff of a smokeleaf joint. As it figured, the last blunt was on the outskirts of the colony, dropped by a raider who was killed in the last raid, yet to be picked up yet. Andy didn't care about the distance, though. He just wanted a smoke. He put on his parka to brave the cold tundra elements and stepped outside.

As it so happened, the colony had gathered to see what was inside a giant, imposing, granite building. He saw them set up sandbags and turrets in the distance, clearly preparing for a fight. Everyone implored him to get into position just in case there was something horrible in there like they all suspected, but Andy didn't care. He just wanted a smoke. He continued to walk.

With a pickaxe in hand, somebody destroyed a section of the wall, with an expression of reluctance on her face. Just as everyone had thought, there was something horrible in there, namely ancient military mechanoids. A giant centipede, sensing movement where there was once just a wall, lumbered out and knocked the person who opened the structure out of its way like a ragdoll. The centipede focused its minigun on a slow-moving figure walking right in front of it, seemingly not caring about it. That figure was Andy. It fired a stream of bullets at him, laboring under the assumption that he would be reduced to jelly within seconds. Andy, however, managed to dodge every single bullet without being hit once, or even stopping to fight back. Andy didn't care. He just wanted a smoke.

The centipede was quickly distracted by two colonists attempting to bash its second ring in with maces. Thus, Andy was spared from another volley of minigun fire. He wasn't out of the woods yet, however. A scyther ran up to him, blades outstretched and ready to skewer him. Andy could not ignore this, as it was simply too fast to outrun. The scyther attempted to slash him, but Andy managed to jump out of the way in the nick of time, on account of his natural nimbleness and his extensive martial arts training. He grabbed his trusty mace and bashed its right leg, virtually crippling it. The scyther made a slashing movement directed at his throat, but once again, Andy deftly avoided it. He counterattacked and hit it square in the head, severely damaging all its motor functions. At this point, Andy got pretty cocky, which explains why he let said scyther slash his stomach open. He gasped in pain, and made one more desperate smash to its head, killing it. He used his left arm to keep his guts inside of him as he limped along to his destination. He probably should have gotten the medical attention of the town doctor instead of doing that, but Andy didn't care. He just wanted a smoke.

A hungry grizzly bear was struggling to survive the brutal winter. It was visibly malnourished and would probably die soon if it didn't get food within the next few days. As luck would have it, it seemed like an easy meal had stumbled across its path. It was clearly injured and dying, ensuring a quick kill. Or so it thought. That easy meal was Andy, who could see the blunt that he endured so much pain for. Just as he thought he had made it, he heard the growling of a bear, and a shadow began to loom over his head. He managed to get out of the way just in time to avoid getting his head swiped off. The bear was on all fours now, and started to charge him. He put his arm in front of him to protect his body from the savage bite of the hunter. As it ravaged his arm, he hit it in the head, in the body, wherever. The bear bit him again, this time finishing the job and tearing his left arm right out of its socket. The pain was almost too much to handle now, but Andy didn't care. He just wanted a smoke. With a sudden burst of strenght and energy, he bashed the bear's skull in, rendering it paralyzed.

At long last, Andy got what he wanted. He dropped his mace, picked up the blunt, lit it, and took a deep puff. He collapsed, the combination of the pain, blood loss, and the intoxicating properties of smokeleaf causing him to lose all control of his legs. It occured to him that he was going to die here. But Andy didn't care. He just wanted a smoke.

The next day, it was noticed that Andy was missing during the daily headcount. After some searching, the colony followed a trail of blood that eventually led to the dead bodies of Andy and a bear. His guts were slashed open, his left arm was torn off, and there was a smokeleaf joint in his hand on the remaining arm. Everybody was impressed by his sheer fortitude and strength when it came to completing his goals, though they wished that he had put that same amount of effort into his cooking. He was buried in an excellent marble sarcophogus, which had a scene etched into it showing him sitting on a rock with contentment. A dead bear was in the lower left corner of the picture, and there was a sense of triumph imbued into the artwork. A bundle of smokeleaf joints was stored by his coffin.

Andy didn't care. He just wanted a smoke.