We were young and in love and it was nuclear winter.

Remember that, my darling? The great Twitter Battle of 2019 between Donald Trump and Kim Jong Un, when North Korea nuked the South Pole because they thought Santa Claus lived there, and then assassinated Dennis Rodman over faulty intelligence. Remember that, my darling? Wasn't that hilarious?

I remember it just like it was yesterday, whenever the North Koreans hacked Trump's Twitter account and deleted it, and then the missiles flew.

Remember that, fire of my loins? We were in the Fort Worth Water Gardens when it happened, and you were just about to break up with me again. Thank God for the nuclear holocaust! And those fountains lights! It was beautiful. I'm still blind from the neutron radiation, but that's okay, it's only in one eye. I've grown another eye since then.

Oh, we were still young then, young and naive and thinking that the world would be a better place someday. Well, it's someday now my love, and you have long been rotting in a stinking radioactive grave. I think I might get to visit you in about 50 years. How long is the half-life for Cesium 137 again? Potassium 40? I forget.

But listen to me, going on and on about times long past! I prefer to remember you as you were then, when you were the picture of health, before your hair started to fall ou,t and your gums started to bleed.

Do you remember our long trudge up I-35 toward Denton, using dead corpses for sandbags against the mutant hordes? My, were you a crack shot with an M-40!

I remember the first night of nuclear winter, my dearest shnookums. Actually, it was the first day of nuclear winter… day and night kind of smooshed together back then, what with all of the nuclear fallout in the upper atmosphere.

It was a long slog up the interstate battling those unholy radioactive abominations, but we did it together. That's what I remember most fondly, my dearest cupcake.

After we won that first battle against the mutant hordes, do you remember how we just couldn't go any further and decided to picnic atop the fallen corpses of our enemies at that rest stop, and how we lay back comfortably on their rotting bodies, imagining where exactly are relatives were up there in that poisonous maelstrom in the sky?

We had fun picking out the shapes and outlines of our parents in the radioactive clouds. Those are treasured memories for me, my lovely.

It's the glowing sunsets that I really remember, though… the ones that peeked briefly below the clouds on the far horizon and burned our faces with ionizing radiation. I still have blisters from those evenings that we shared together, my honey pot. It seems as if it were only weeks ago, when in fact it was only days ago. Days ago, when we were young and in love and without a care in a post-apocalyptic wasteland.

Once we arrived at the Denton city limits, I thought I had lost you when we were ambushed by that pack of mutant fourth graders. Who would have thought a bunch of slobbering, ragged little kids could have been so ferocious? I thought they were kind of cute in a way, and I wish we could have adopted them, but unfortunately we had to smash their brains in, shoot them through their spines, and clobber them to death with shovels. I remember fondly how at that point it was that we both decided that we should become cannibals.

I never begrudged you for claiming the hearts and livers of those young innocent ones. To me, you were my young innocent one, so I watched lovingly as you claimed those trophies. You truly deserved them, because in my eyes, it was only the best for you, the gem of my heart.

I'm just so sorry that you died of radiation poisoning from eating all of that radioactive heart and liver meat.

Kids seem so innocent when they're dead, and hardly radioactive at all. They seemed so full of life whenever they were rushing at us from all sides in teeming masses, intent on eating our brains.

Now, as I stand here amidst the howling gales of a full-fledged nuclear winter, I remember with heartfelt sorrow our young lives together, fighting to the top of this midden heap. I can see your grave glowing in the distance. I dare not approach any closer for at least 50 years, but you have my love, my dear heart… my love in the times of nuclear winter, when we were young and before the North Koreans invaded and took over.

Yeah, that happened. I'm pretty glad you missed that part. You had already been dead for a few weeks, but now they're here. I hate 'em.

They say pretty things are growing in Antarctica now. I think I'll grow wings and fly there.

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