EVE General Discussion

I'm a RoadHouse. Some might call me a servo, a service station, a petrol stop. I'm more than that because I cater for all kinds. I see bikes and cars and trucks, all day, every day coming from who knows where and heading wherever.

I am where you might stop to refuel, have some food, take a rest and yarn with fellow travellers.

Truckers and salesman, including the odd fraudster pass by every day. They say G'day to each other and they chat about the world, the economy and whose going to win the football.

Ocassionally a group of bikies turn up, accompanied by the ever-present escort of police. If the bikies decide they are going to stay for awhile, a few extra police are needed just in case. But the bikies ultimately get back on their bikes and head to their destination, wherever that is.

And sometimes, the odd nutter decides to yell and rant at my staff, drive off without paying for fuel and generally behaves stupidly. I can't stop him but I've made a note of his numberplate for next time.

In the fields behind me a farmer tills his soil, ready for the new crop of corn. The mechanic across the road is fixing cars and changing tyres. He's a bit of a loner and does just enough to make ends meet. He only opens up occassionally, preferring his other job of selling Amway products on the road.

But lately I'm seeing a new kind of traveller. Their cars are parked outside, playing their duuph, duuph music, you know, the kind that makes their windows rattle. They don't spend any money here and they just laze around, like they are biding time. For what, I don't know.

They don't seem to be heading anywhere. They just sit outside all day, making nuisances of themselves, harassing my staff and more importantly my customers. The customers and staff are cat-called, abused and made to feel rather bad.
I don't know why. They didn't do anything wrong. The travellers are just passing through and my staff are Working at the Roadhouse because, well, that's what they do.

Without the staff, without the travellers, my RoadHouse would be empty. I couldn't exist and those that need my services would be in a fairly dire situation.

I need help. I just need someone to come along and give these hooligans, if you will pardon the phrase, a destination, a place to be. Perhaps then, they'll grow into truckers, salesmen, mechanics or farmers. I don't know.

But one thing is for sure, if this stays the way it is for too long, I will lose my staff, travellers will stop coming and I will be no more than a vacant lot.

You guys outside, yes, you, the punk leaning against the old Chevy. One day, perhaps, when you work out where you're heading, you will need my Roadhouse. You will need my staff.

Point your nose somewhere, anywhere, North, South or East, I don't care, but be on your way.

The travellers need my services. There's work to be done.


TLDR: Was my parking lot ever meant to be your destination?

Discuss...

Roadhouse.

NO




That word is trademarked

1v1 frigates?

He would be the wannabe bikie who can't afford a Harley, wears a faux leather jacket with a $5 bill sticking out of the pocket, waiting to see who see who would be game enough to steal it.

ofc. If you do intend to steal it, you'll have to draft a Statement of Intent, get it signed by a Justice of the Peace and make sure all of his Vespa riding mates are hiding behind the amenities block.

And if he's losing, he'll run inside the Roadhouse and yell at everyone for 10 minutes until a real bikie tells him to stfu.

Is this a lead in for a bounty or something? I smell stage set for bounty.

IF YOU SMELL WHAT THAT ONE GUY IS COOKING

ITT Jim Era puts ISD Suvetar in her place.

I am waiting to see how long this metaphor goes on for...

I like it...

I prefer to get into the roadhouse drop my stuff and get the hell out...

I hate duuph, duuph music but I have blocked a lot of it...

TLDR: Was this a piece of Patrick Swayze fanfic?