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Oh no! The end of the world is coming!! Perhaps by a downpour of bombs, with their gasps of deafening light. Perhaps by an exasperated volcano. Perhaps by a tide of zombies engulfing the last of the uninfected. Only one thing is certain: apocalypses come from all directions. All you can do is, build yourself a hefty bunker and enwomb yourself indefinitely. Here’s a handy list of bunkers that make the cut.
- A trashy dance club and the thin film of inebriation.
- Straight-up denial.
- A crowd of strangers in a strange city.
- Someone else’s arms.
- A sense of detached irony.
- Harder drugs.
- The bowels of the internet.
- Sprawling works of fiction.
Q. Aren’t drugs illegal?
A. Yes, but laws do not extend down into bunkers.
Q. You mentioned a club. What do you do when the club closes/if
they kick you out of the club?
A. They can kick you out of the club, but they can’t kick you out of
your state of inebriation. Maintain until reopening/readmission.
Q. What if the world grotesquely decays, instead of exploding?
A. That is just another kind of apocalypse. You need to be in it for the long haul.
Q. What if the apocalypse comes from within?
A. Go in all directions at the same time. Next question.
Q. Do bears shit in the woods?
A. Yes, another reason to stay in your bunker, which is surely free of
Q. What about light and air? Don’t you need those? How will you
A. Alright, there’s a light, but you swear it wasn’t so hideously jaun-
diced your first day down here. What day could it be now. This cold fluorescence: obscene and uninformative. Why don’t these things
have windows? But what would it see, dirt. And god knows what
wasteland lies above. Why not smash the fucking light, why not, and
god knows what wasteland lies below. How is the tank air so stale,
every breath feels recycled, lungs refill on your own sighs and shrieks
of hysteria. And you remember your breaths are numbered–how numbered? Everything finite seems imminent. And it might as well be, that final inhalation of a toxic cloud. IS IT NOW? IS IT ALMOST NOW? Yes, before you drew them out, the breaths, breathed sweetly, but now you’re greedy for it, insatiable, hurling toward the realization of your hallucination, you take more and more and more and more