I’m throwing a post-apocalyptic party this weekend (Any NYC area Dopers? Totally invited.) and as part of the festivities, I’m creating fortunes for my guests predicting how they handle the end of the world, whether they live or die. But mostly die.
Here are two examples:
“You were eaten by cannibals. If it’s any consolation, you were really, really tasty.”
“You were eaten by a rampaging pack of zombies. Next time, remember to aim for the head.”
Do any Dopers wish to add to my lists of fortunes? I will not give you any credit and will, in fact, claim your cleverness as my own.
“You died after receiving an injury that in today’s world is easily treated but after the apocalypse immobilized you until you perished from a combination of thirst, hunger, and infection.”
You were eaten by your cats when you tried to shut yourself away from it all and live on stored canned vegetables and bottled water. Next time remember the cat food.
You survived the apocalypse actually in a good mood, for you now had time to read all the books you wanted. You were going to, but you broke the last remaining glasses in the world.
“You were almost able to successfully restore electrical power to your neighborhood grid by repairing a downed line. Unfortunately, someone else repaired a connection at the substation up the line just before you finished.”
“You discover that packs of rats become quite bold when they’re hungry. Your last thoughts are of Anthony Perkins.”
You saw the apocalypse coming, and froze yourself in a glacier to survive through it. Unfortunately, you won’t know if it worked until someone re-develops the technology to thaw you.
You were brutally dismembered by an acquaintance who stole your wit and claimed it as his own with no credit to your cleverness whatsoever. He is now using your skull as a coffee cup.
Radiation has left you with a hideous mutation: a baby arm growing out of your forehead. On the bright side, you can now give yourself three thumbs up!