"I fought in a war against that trash, you evil little shits!" the Old Man howls, heaving chunks of cinder at the source of the sonic disturbances, those same words over and over again: Ceaser of the West Coast! Ceaser of the West Coast! Down to the bottom, drownin', drownin'!]]
"This is classical music, codger! We're playing it for you!"
"Classical! you fucking cunts!" the Old Man yells, tugging a knife from his waistband. "I'll classically cut off your fucking ears! Shit in your fucking skulls! Wait til I finish classically scalping you!"
"Hey, try not to shit your pants when you waddle over here, grandpa!"
Just another blood-and-guts day in the Scrapyards. None of the combatants notice the faceless mutant watching from above, sharpened teeth glistening with oily saliva, hungry.