Fallout

['Orange Colored Sky" by Nat King Cole playing]

Negotiations were scheduled to continue today

as the White House had no comment about the President's whereabouts.

Ready to be of service, madam.

...between America and her adversaries

crumbled this morning in Anchorage, Alaska.

The specter of nuclear war facing this nation

for ten long years is final...

It's a party. Let's just focus on the party, okay?

] Look at that!

Well done!

All right, birthday boy.

Let's get a photo of you up here on Sugarfoot.

Why the hell is Cooper Howard working kids' birthday parties?

-What else? Alimony. -

What'd they say, Dad?

That I'm lucky to have such a good helper like you.

All right, you ready?

-It's good. -All right, good.

Here we go, bud.

Hey, honey. Honey, get with Cooper. Let's get a picture.

-Uh, you bet. Yeah. All right. -

Oh, Coop, Coop, Coop, do your thumbs-up.

Yeah, given the state of everything, I prefer not to, if that's all right.

Why not? It's what you're famous for.

-Drop it, Bob. -Yeah.

We gotta... we gotta get this rodeo on the road.

I can't thank you enough, Mr. Howard.

Pleasure's all mine, ma'am. I hope your son had a lovely birthday.

-Perfect. -Yeah.

Who's ready for cake?

- Me! - All right. You ready, Janey?

Come on. There you go.

-Pinko. -Yep. He still took my money.

- -

Here's that Los Angeles sunshine coming through.

Hal .. I can't... I can't--

Sorry, I can't do the weather if I don't know if there'll be a next week.

Only thinking happy thoughts today.

...the Nuka Cola bottle...

Sugar Bombs presents Grognak the Barbarian

and the Ruby Ruins.

And, as I say this is hi from the past!

All right.

I'm sick of you.

Think that's everything.

Why wouldn't you do it?

The thumbs-up.

Oh, it's, uh...

It's grown-up stuff.

Back when I was in the Marines,

they taught us that if they ever dropped a really big bomb,

they told us to hold up your thumb just like this.

And if the cloud is smaller than your thumb,

then you run for the hills.

And if it's bigger than your thumb?

They told us not to bother running.

Do you think it's gonna happen?

I certainly hope not.

But us cowpokes, we take it as it comes, right?

Can I have a slice, Dad?

Know what, let me see if I can't rustle you up a piece.

- -

All right, one piece of cake coming up for my favorite cowgirl.

-Is it your thumb or mine? -

That's smoke, Janey. It's just a fire.

-Let us in. -No room.

-Bob... -Back off!

Bob!

["'Don't Let the Stars Get In Your Eyes" by Perry Como playing]

My name is Lucy MacLean,

and I'm an active contributor to the well-being of my community.

Repair skills.

I enjoy participating in the Young Pipefitters' Association,

which keeps me active.

Science skills.

Obviously, minor, nothing compared to my dad's,

but I always relish a challenge.

Speech skills.

My primary passion is teaching American history,

with a focus on ethics.

I also participate in Gymnastics Club.

Fencing team C.

Intermediate phys-ed.

And I dabble in riflery.

Though, I'm not very good.

In my personal time,

| enjoy taking walks and watching movies with my dad.

Gardening, also with my dad.

And participating in my family book club.

We're still trying to get my brother on board.

He'll come around when he's ready.

My reproductive organs are intact, my hygiene, well-maintained.

And yet, I have been unable to find a suitable marriage partner.

At least one I'm not related to.

And we have rules about that for a reason.

So, it is with sound mind and body

that I hereby submit my application to the council

to participate in the triennial trade with Vault 32.

Norman.

Feels a little tight.

Won't be for long.

On my wedding night, that dress got off almost as fast as Burt did.

Huh.

Oh, gosh.

After ten years of cousin stuff,

I'm definitely excited for the real thing.

Oh, Lucy, I am just excited for us to raise our kids together.

Dad.

-My little sugar bomb. Oh. -

Oh.

Gosh, you look just like your mother.

Yeah, I wish she was here.

Me too.

Were you scared...

when you married Mom?

Me?

-Terrified. -

Well, I'd never stepped foot outside Vault 31.

When did it go away?

The moment I met your mother.

Lucy.

Lucy.

From that moment on, Vault 31 was a distant memory to me.

Overseer. It's time.

Must be nerve-racking. Your husband could be anybody.

I'm aware.

-As for his looks... -Who knows?

Big butt, no butt. But that's just a superficial concern.

-It's what's on the inside that counts. -That's right.

And in that respect, he could be a cannibal

or just crammed full of tumors...

-Norman! -

Sorry, Dad.

Gatekeeper.

Chet?

Honestly... textbook tumbler jam.

It's gonna take some time to fix.

Probably best if we reschedule with the 32s

-until maintenance and I can... -Chet.

What's going on?

Lucy, I love you.

We all know that, Chet.

Messing around with your cousin, it's all well and good for kids,

but it's not a sustainable long-term sexual practice, you know?

Yeah, I know.

Welcome, neighbors from Vault 32.

I am Hank MacLean, Overseer of Vault 33.

Lee Moldaver, Overseer of 32.

Thank you for your hospitality.

Oh, we were sorry to hear of Overseer Jackson's passing

in your telegrams.

When blight hit our wheat, we lost a lot of good people.

But this trade will help us get back on our feet.

Yes, well, as arranged, we offer you seed and parts for machinery.

In exchange, we offer you a breeder.

So...

Who am I marrying?

I'm Lucy.

Do you have a name?

Monty.

Lucky.

["Who Do You Suppose" by Connie Conway playing]

So, what's your sperm count?

Uh...

Your Vault's doctor must check every physical, no?

I mean, sperm is pretty important in perpetuating America.

- So... - Stop.

Good evening and welcome to the proud denizens of Vault 32.