Well, that bunker quickly became a death trap as it rusted away and collapsed. Shipping containers are only built to bare weight on top of them from the four reinforced corners, you see, and have a nasty habit of not being entirely rust proof. Nevermind. Onwards and upwards!
I sank the GDP of a small country into burying a corrugated steel barrel painted with a thin layer of tar beneath a few tonnes of crushed rock shards. What could possibly go wrong? Apparently everything. I decided to take a hot shower in my underground enclosed space, and was happily lathering up with my shower cap and scrubbing brush whilst belting out my favourite Whitney Houston number where no-one could hear, when all of a sudden, 32 new species of fungal mould sprang up before my eyes over every surface of the bunker which had now been covered in warm dampness. They rapidly mutated under my 12v bunker lighting into some kind of a horrible new hybrid - part lichen, part Tony Danza. I was lucky to escape with my life. I have fumigated Firehold Alpha Romeo Tango with an industrial supply of chlorine, but it remains uninhabitable.
On to Plan C.
On to Plan C.
Having found a cleaning maid on an overstayed working holiday visa, my new bunker will be the biggest, the best, and the coziest place to survive the coming apocalypse. I've already moved in the jacuzzi and the plasma screen, and for five bucks an hour I can have sparkling clean walls and a bloody good foot rub.
The under-floor crawl space is ideal for cellaring my 1978 Dom Pérignon, which I shall enjoy with roasted lemon & garlic butter spatchcock while Jonny Sixpack is outside hiding from hunter-killer drones and sucking moss off a brick.
This has given me some ideas for my own shelter, thank you.
ReplyDeleteCan you explain to me again the part where you're a magical protohuman because you're slightly taller than average and your hair's a bit curly?
Let me spell this out for you simply enough such that a hebephrenic queer like yourself can understand it:
ReplyDeleteTHE REASON YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM SAYING IS BECAUSE YOU DON'T HAVE THE GENETIC CAPACITY TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM SAYING. IF YOU DID, THEN YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND WHAT I AM SAYING.
Understand? Didn't think so. No genetic capacity there.
YOU ARE LIKE NICOLE KIDMAN IN 'THE OTHERS' - RUNNING AROUND SNEERING AT ALL THE GHOSTS WITHOUT REALISING ALL THE WHILE THAT YOU ARE IN FACT A GHOST YOURSELF.
'nuff said.
Oh God... Firehold Alpha Romeo Tango... ahhhhh
ReplyDelete