Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen.

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If you'd like to send Whiskey a message, click here.

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[TRANSCRIPT]

Hello Whiskey. You’re going to get sick of hearing my voice if this keeps up. Or… our voice, I guess? I’m not Red, nor am I Scarlet. Keeping on theme, you can call me Rosy. Not like the flower, but like when your cheeks get rosy in the cold. We don’t have any more roses. Not here, anyway. They’d get smothered under all this snow. I hope it’s warmer where you are. I mean it would have to be, your car wouldn’t work if it was this cold. That’s why we have to walk everywhere. Well, snowshoe. And not… ‘we’. My group does the walking. I stay and mind the fire, while they go out and hunt, forage, chop wood. I get… I think Doc called it ‘Cold-induced… Brontospasms? I don’t think that’s right, but it’s close. My lungs don’t work well in the cold. Which is… inconvenient to say the least. The journey here was… rough. But because of that, it means I’m almost always the one to stay behind and tend to the fire. Plus Walt really doesn’t trust me with an axe with my missing fingers. Frostbite’s a bitch.

I don’t mind staying behind. It’s… actually kind of nice, having the place to myself, every now and then. It’s funny, I left an empty bunker six years ago to try and find people, and I succeeded… but there are still some times that I… miss the solitude. We’re all over each other here, have to sleep huddled up for warmth. You always wake up in someone else’s armpit. And they’re loud. The snoring, the way they laugh, the way they argue. We used to listen to your broadcasts when they were more regular, and I think that was the only time of day that everyone was quiet. All listening to you. It was… it was really nice. Those nights didn’t feel as cold. You brought warmth to our little group.

I miss that. I know you… you wanted your life to be your own again, to not be married to a radio, I get that. I still miss it, that’s all. Without you, we’ve had to resort to other methods of entertainment, which… well, I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to play Crazy Eights with a few missing digits, but… anyway. Sometimes Xue reads for us, but a lot of the guys don’t have the patience for it. And they get sick of hearing the same stories over and over. We’ve got limited books.

It isn’t perfect, here, I won’t lie. We’re cold, and we’re hungry. And we snap at each other a lot. But… we’re other people. And if you have a hunger for that… well, you can always come and find us. I don’t know our exact location, just the rough journey I took here, some of the place names. Erie. Sunflower. Newcastle. Four Corners. Just… keep going north until you find a whole lot of nothing. That’s where I’ll be. Or… I am in my universe, at least. Hopefully if you head there, there’s something in yours, too. Just… remember to pack to your mittens.

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