All the headlines bleed into a single story.

I prefer to skim read. Filter out the suffering. Wear earplugs made of hamburgers and American cheese. My bunker is made of day old vegan breadsticks.

Floods, extremists, governors who incarcerate the offspring of the incarcerated.

I drink my beverage of choice, carefully sipping

slowly

to

not

burn

my tongue.

And it's time.

A sort of pain in the stomach.

Another room.

And there it is.

A low rumble.

Was it was another bomb going off or the sound of my own fart?