Silhouetted Namesake: uno mucho pizza

Imagine flagons in a bethesda pool:

Afta his special treatment ceremony as a graduating alumni of MIT, our inspection masta was granted residency in one of Veginia's most prestigiously accommodated undaground living quartas.

Had he gotten the contact infamation for the founda and CEO of Vault-Tec befoua slippin' from his birthday suit into those dingy blue duds, he neva woulda been subjected to the horra of witnessin' his undaling vault dwellas act like hoodlums, chumps, punks and jays for one terrible night that his fellow graduates had coitainly hoi'd about back in The Commonwealth. West Veginia was coitainly gonna get whatfor, yasee..?

Despite his utta repulsion, our brave inspector general survived the moy'ciless traps of a pure boob, grantin' such phony hospitality a board-approved ratin' of defcon 2, since no soul alive would know the juicy gossip brewin' batween his poifectly plump ears.

*Oh, wait 'til my bosses hear about this place*, he tells himself while sprintin' through a foggy forest from freshly flickerin' fusion beams.

He'd be chucklin' with glee if he weren't breathin' so heavy while picturin' the quartaly profits he'd see in his Scandinavian shareholdin' accounts.

By quittin' time that night, he'd plug himself into his Changin' Organs Toiminal, restin' assur'd that earnin' his doctorial degree mattered, and any foul savage in the woild today neva felt the powa of holdin' somethin' real in the palm of their hand...

"wait 'til they hear about MY payload..!", he'd exclaim before the bliss of a rest well oined.

His poifect pilla was once again greeted by the prime realestate of his mastaful noggin...

Decryption of a willing mind was growing easier, as the fruition of their designs had been waiting for such a generation as these birthing units...