Yeah. We should all really be having a nude, sexy slumber party, and talk about boys we'd like to funk, while you and the other voyeuristic perv's listen from the back yard, where you are spread up against the wall, below an open window.
"Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius will be instantly sublimated, but if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat, you might survive, permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. But if you do go gas, there's nothing you can do if the air that was once you is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules of the enemy's former body. Big-kid-tested, motherf--ker approved."
