Journal of Honcho Biggs - Chapter 13

Chapter 13 of the Journal of Honcho Biggs, titled "Made Milk Men".

Made Milk Men
We bid our farewells to the 188 and moved northwards. Courier was a day's travel ahead, with Boone and some broad. We guessed his first stop at the Strip would be to confront Benny at the Tops.

"Sorry about Jessup, man, and your other friends," Niner told Hared as we walked along Highway 95. "If it makes you feel better, I know what it's like to lose a brother." He was being weirdly sympathetic and meaningful, must've been because he was sober for once.

"You do?" the tanned Khan asked.

"Yeah, it was my actual brother. He enlisted in the NCR army. Three years later, he comes back in a body bag, courtesy of super mutants."

"Damn, man, sorry," Hared said. I nodded in consolidation. I could've offered my own story there, but I don't like talking about myself and my family too much. So I kept quiet. We all kept quiet until we arrived at a little rest stop as the sky turned into shades of orange and red.

"Sun's getting low," I told 'em. "Might as well stop here."

It was a small little rest stop, population by around 10 people, half of which were probably travelers. "Welcome, friends," a man called out to us. He was big fellow with a beard just as big. He shook our hands. "Name's Fitz, welcome to the Grub 'n Gulp." We introduced ourselves and he offered us a little tour of the place.

"Last stop before Vegas, first stop out, is what I says," Fitz concluded. "We got all sorts of vendors here too. I sell meat, Lupe sells water, Doyle sells milk."

"Milk?" I questioned.

"Yep, New Vegas Milk Company," Fitz explained. "They make their caps from brahmin herding, but they're trying to separate themselves from competitors by making milk a bigger part of their company. You might've known them as Freeside Brahmin Keepers." That rang a bell. "Heard Doyle was looking for recruits, he's over there if y'all wanna talk to him."

Huh, milkman recruiting. Not something you hear every day. Niner wasn't too concerned about that milk though. "Got any chem dealers?" He asked, with Hared looking on.

Fitz shook his head. "No sir, just honest traders here." His eyes narrowed. "Suggest you keep it that way," he said, before wandering off.

"Niner, you and Hared get us some water and sleeping rolls. I'm gonna talk to this milkman guy." They nodded and went to find Lupe. I headed the other way and went to find Doyle.

He was easy to find. Dressed in all white, leaning against a pole that held up a section of his milk stall. "You interested in milk?"

"Interested in milk work," I answered.

"Doyle Townsend," He held out his hand, introducing himself.

"Honcho Biggs," I shook back.

We talked for some time. Apparently I would be the second recruit he found recently - a courier joined yesterday. THE Courier! This rat bastard got his paws in everything. Their headquarters is in Freeside, so I was hoping I could maybe run into the Courier there as Doyle handed me a little application. Just asked for name, date of birth, and attitude of milk. After handing the application the Milk Bot out back, he analyzed it and said I passed with flying colors. Never doubted I was a genius. Milk Bot brought the application to Doyle, who looked it over.

"Well, looks good. You're gonna wanna see Terrance Goodwill in our headquarters in Freeside." Just told you guys this, sorry for how rude it was of him to repeat information unnecessarily. "Once you shake his hand, you'll be an official member."

I thanked him and he offered me a complimentary bottle of milk, which is accepted. I never had milk before, so I tried mixing it with my whiskey - tip: don't do that. Definitely don't. We spent the night getting drunk with Fitz looking in disapproval from the background, but we didn't care.

I remembered my drunk pal from the Mojave Outpost, Cass. Her telling me to get into the caravan business. I was gonna be a Made Man in the Milk industry soon, so why not get my hands in the caravan industry? Seems like the Courier was doing the same thing.