We Were Young and in Love and It Was Nuclear Winter
After beating that mutant horde, do you remember how we just couldn't go any further and decided to picnic atop the fallen corpses of our enemies?
Greetings, Ash Fans! A little about myself. I started writing comedy articles about ten years ago when I couldn't sleep, and I've submitted my stuff to McSweeneys, Mad Magazine, Cracked, and Points In Case. So far Points In Case has been the only publication desperate enough to publish my material, and I currently have seven comedy articles posted here. I've written several short stories and one 15,000 word sci-fi novella titled 'The Last Super Club', and I'm currently working on a 100,000 word novel I like to describe as 'science fiction satire, focusing on absurdity and dark comedy'. The novel is called 'For Those About To Die', and I hope to finish writing it before I croak... WHOOPS! Hang on, I gotta mention this before I forget. Back in 2011, my fiance and the frikin' Love Of My Life ended our relationship and moved to an Orthodox monastery. Now she's a nun! Can you believe that shit? I thought that only ever happened in movies! Pretty funny, huh? I credit my worldview, characterized by an especially dark sense of humor, with keeping myself relatively sane throughout my adult life and especially during the past ten years. For example - I don't subscribe to politics and I haven't voted since 1991, yet I find Donald Trump to be the funniest thing to hit the stage since AIDS! The guy is a frikin' comedian. Thanks, President Trump, for Making Politics Fun Again!
After beating that mutant horde, do you remember how we just couldn't go any further and decided to picnic atop the fallen corpses of our enemies?
Somehow I just couldn't stay pissed off at frat guy. He was my tax wingman, even though he totally killed my self-esteem.
My problem is atoms. I don't like 'em, I don't wanna have anything to do with 'em, and I definitely don't wanna be made out of them.
Here's the truth, "Harmonica Guy": I don't feel sorry for myself or my neighbors subjected to this audial torture, I feel sorry for the harmonica!
How long has this burrito thing been languishing in the microwave? How did it get there in the first place? And most importantly, can I eat it?
The farting, the boozing, the singing, the lamenting... good grief, what a bunch of lazy, pretentious midgets with nothing to do but stir up drama.
Why don't Elsa's gloves freeze when she's wearing them? Those manacles they clapped onto her hands when she was in prison sure froze though, didn't they?