“Bud was always a funny little guy. Must have been what his parents were on when they was around him. He always had the knack for agriculture and business, sadly not the kind I'd prefer him to but at least it was work.” Bud Thompsons Grandpa
I was born on the ripe day of january 4th, 1996. That day I was born into the newly wed couple of Jane Thompson, and my father, Bob Thompson. In the next coming years my life was ok, I was fed and kept clean, but that's about it. See my parents had the problem akin to many in our little midwestern part of the country those days. Their main objective in life was how to get their next fix. By the time I was 10 they got in too far, and OD at my birthday party. Rather prickish of them if you were to ask me, but such is life isnt it? I went to live with my dads dad, or my grandpa. He taught me how to garden and hunt, and then something just ticked. I could get vague memories of my dad teaching me about the different strains of the holy green stuff. I combined this with what my grandpa taught me, and at the age of 16 started my own little farm. He wasn't a fan of it, but it helped pay the bills so he let me do it. Even on the occasion we shared a blunt in between each other, just to relax for a bit. At the age of 18 I gained a bit more traction and was approached by a local boss. He had no problem with what I was doing. He just wanted a cut, or for me to move out of the area. I thanked him for the offer to stay, but having recently turned 18, I wanted to explore. We shook hands and went our separate ways. By this time I had gained enough money to take me wherever i wanted to go, and enough to keep my grandpa living happy for the rest of his days. In the days leading up to my flight, we reminisce in what happened before, and looked happy for the days ahead. When it was my time to leave, I shook the old man's hand, and set out for my new adventure. My first stop was set to be columbia. I knew I needed to be careful in these new places, but came prepared for whatever could happen. A small org. Down their taught me how to grow in the heat a humidity, which isn't very hard at all. I still thanked them for their knowledge and went on my way. The next stop would be India. I never thought I would like the place, with the whole no eat beef thing, but man was I wrong. I found some of the highest quality and selection anywhere I have been. Which in all honesty isn't very expansive but that's not the point. When I was their I met a man by the name of Divit. He showed me their operation, and although I was a newcomer, saw something in me that he wanted in his operation. I was taken aback by his offer, one I would never refuse. He taught me all he knew, showing me the different strains and where they would grow. We went into the himalayan hills and he showed me the ones best for colder climates, even snow. After two years had passed, I was what one might call a seasoned veteran, mainly thanks to my teacher. He pulled me over one day to speak of a new land that they wish to cultivate. It was called takistan. It was still in the midst of war, but had potential to get a great operation setup. He wanted me to go and lay down the groundwork, and I couldn't be more honored. After packing up what we would need in the cargo plan, we smoked a blunt and said our goodbyes. After arriving in takistan, the US troops tried to get an idea what we were doing. I offered them some of our goods and they turned the other way. We decided to set up on the edge of what looked to be a mountain range, what I was told a border, to the west. Man it was all going so well. Pumping out money and no problems with the officials. Divit wasn't wrong about this place. Some of the men wanted to go across the border and set some shit up their. I thought why not, what is the worst that could happen. WW3? The more diversity we have in the region the better.We setup the next farm on a old pig farm just east of the South Zagorian province called Cheneraus. We heard there was more restrictions on that part of the country, so until we were able to get a foothold in this part. I left my best man , Kaheet in charge back in taki. He knew we may be on an extend journey but I trust him to keep things under control. (6 months before outbreak) We have our foothold. I have all the bureaucrats here either payed off or gone, we should be able to hold out this site until the end of days. I truly like the land around this country, plenty to hunt and air to breathe. (outbreak) main is shit going haywire. I was hearing over the long range people are attacking and tearing others apart. I am checking the hired men for any signs and securing the crop. Oh shit. What are those people doing. Their frying themselves on the fucking fences. The fuck is going on. (1 year latter) God is this great. That's the last of the boys dead. Wasn't even the fucking virus, got paranoid and shot each other. That's what I get for going out and scavenging. I'm the last one left out of these dimwits. Well what now. It seems to the south it is completely overrun. To the north the russians are on edge. I can't risk crossing to the east so I guess that leaves one option. The place to the east. Well I suppose knows better than ever.
One would assume Bud would lay low in country, waiting to bring his business back to glory one way or another