Post-Apocalyptic Me

We were parked at a bar the other day, and one of the Mad Max movies was on the TV. I don't think I've ever seen any of those movies all the way through, but over the years I've caught enough that I know what's going on.

After watching a few minutes, I decided that if/when WWIII comes to pass, I'm ready for the Mad Max-style of post-apocalyptic free-for-all that's sure to follow. Whether it's like The Terminator, (we're fighting the machines) Lord of the Flies (we're fighting each other dressed in loincloths), or Mad Max (we're fighting Tina Turner and wearing leather pants with shoulder pads), I think I'm ready for whatever comes my way.

First, I pick my fights well. Ask my brother or sister. I fully whipped their asses, but only until they got a) big enough to fight back or b) got a boyfriend. Then I found someone weaker to pick on. Picking your battles well is essential to survival after society collapses. Advantage: Me.

Second, I fight dirty. I took out my friend's legs in a driveway basketball game once when he went up for a layup. He was working me over the whole game, so I chopped him off at the knees. Eat it, Bezerkley. I'll do the same blindside, cheapshot attacking when I'm fighting for my life.

Third, I can easily use the surroundings to my advantage. One time my sister tried to hit me with a decorative brass spoon. I deftly danced around the kitchen island to avoid her flailing swings, then pinned her against the counter and wailed on her (I still feel bad about that one...Sorry E). These type of maneuvers were simply training for when I'm cruising the urban wasteland in my armor-plated camaro.

Finally, I can put aside my feelings and make the tough decisions that always come up in total anarchy. One time, after a baby bird fell out of our chimney, I took it upon myself to shoulder my rifle (caliber: bb gun) and put the bird out of its misery. Now, I know what you're thinking, but it's not like that. I didn't enjoy it, and I didn't boil its skull. I just did what was needed and moved on. That's what you'll have to do in the haze of nuclear fallout. I can do this.

The only potential problem I see is the food. If the grub is a little funky, or made with coconut milk, it's not going to stay in my gullet for very long. I guess I'd have to go to cannibalism. As long as I can cook the foes I vanquish before I eat them, I'll be fine.

So you'd best make your choices now. Once the bombs fall and/or the machines revolt, you're either with me or against me. I'll be the one in the loincloth, waving a brass spoon and eating cooked people. Look out.