If every country were to let loose all their nukes, all that would be left is a world of post-apocalyptic freaks and mutants… AWESOME! If I survived this nuke war, I would be free to do some crazy stuff and I would take full advantage of that situation. After the mass destruction I would first find a supply of food. Next, I would find myself a sweet ride-- you know something spine-tingling-- like a 1976 Ford Pinto. The first thing to be done with this beauty on wheels is pull out the old 2.3L four-banger and wedge in a 351 Windsor. In addition to the engine, cannons and laser guns will be added for protection and awesomeness.
While traveling through a desert land, I would stumble across an old curmudgeon with the appearance of a crazy vagabond, but deep down he is an evil genius with a sick lab. Somehow, I would convince him to modify my body to allow anything I desired to be attached at my wrists. My first attachment would be super strength metal hands for tearing phone books in half (I have always wanted to do that), catching bullets, and throwing water balloons at incredible velocities. My second attachment would be a chainsaw just to scare the kids if there are any left. I can just see myself now, cruising down the dilapidated highway with my seat way back --rolling deep-- and my chainsaw hand hanging out the window. If I wanted to, I could make a hole in the roof with my chainsaw just for the convertible feeling. After departing the crazy’s lab, I would travel across the country looking for someone, anyone who survived. When I say anyone, I am not referring to the aforementioned freaks or mutants of whom I take great pride in incinerating with my cannons and laser guns. And just my luck I would come across a city of people that have all survived the nukes and have thronged to this land and made a new society.
Being a nuke war survivor, I would have developed an attitude of distrust, hence the armored Pinto and chainsaw hand. As I enter the city, the Pinto’s defense system would be set for kill. Just ahead is a city sign that reads, “Welcome to Mormonville, The Happiest Place on Earth, I so testify.” Well La De Freakin DA, the last surviving city is filled with Utards or in other words Latter-day Saints (Mormons). I just knew they were Mormons; even with my laser scopes aimed at their foreheads, they would still wave at me.
What happened to the thugs that would try to steal my car and I would have to blow off their arms with my shotgun attachment just to keep them away? Or the villain that would try to stab me and take my wallet and I would have to tear his head off with my man hands to show him I would not stand for such nonsense? Instead of the stabbing and killing I am use to, all I get from these Mormons is, “Come out to our progressive dinner and bring your barbeque attachment so we can grill up some burgers while you play Motel in the Fiddler on the Roof play” or “Hey, do you want to come to our Elder’s quorum pinewood derby activity? You could bring you sander attachment and we could make our cars together.” To that, I would be thinking sarcastically, “Gee that would be great, I could also bring my lemon juicer and we could make lemonade just after I grind your face off with it”.
Not seeing any reason to leave Mormonville, I would have to change my attitude from killing all the Mormons to grudgingly obliging all their annoying yet nice invitations. Instead of killing as I expected to do in my post-apocalyptic world, I would be grilling with my sweet barbeque attachment. Not letting my guard completely down I would always have Guido (my car) in kill mode just in case one of those shifty eyed Normans tries anything uncouth.
If I had to chose between The Rapture (see last post) and Armageddon, I would have to pick Armageddon for the sweet super strength hands used to tear phone books in half. I could also scare off the annoying neighbor kids with my chainsaw hand. Life would be good in Mormonville, oh yes, life would be good.