Apocalypse

The townspeople called me crazy for building a bomb shelter in the post-Cold-War
era. But who’s crazy now? The guy with a shelter stocked to the roof with
Lite-Brites and bedpans? Or the dead townspeople riddled with meteorites?
Probably a toss-up.

Having the town to myself was great at first. I could walk through Wal-Mart
naked and no one was there to stop me! But no one was there to greet me
either. No one was there to tell me about the low, low prices. No one was
there to scold me for stomping on the plasma TVs and wearing them as shoes.
What good are TV-shoes if no one’s there to see you dance in them?

You might ask, “Why don’t you go down the road to another town? Meteorites
can’t have hit every town on Earth.” Oh, how naïve you are, my friend. Sure,
another town might have drinkable water or acceptable levels of radiation. But
if I don’t keep on living my life like I used to, the meteorites win. Plus, I
have all my stuff here.

CRS '09