Maintain Radio Ebonics by Savage

Clint Eastwood is punching holes in the time-space continuum. All our realities are converging on one another; we are at the event horizon of reality. Happy Birthday balloons replace headstones, hooray, you're one year dead. And this is where I come in. Well, I would have come in. I was there for a microsecond before my city was folded upon itself and crushed, like a fat person's hope when they realize cake is higher up than them on the food chain.

It's harder than it looks, being radically unfashionable while maintaining a svelte figure. I was in the dark alleys, backroads no tourist would venture. I had a shadow, the key was to act calm. I picked up a cell phone, a shell coated number with a used hypodermic antenna. Another, encased in silver with an attached flail soaked in cobra venom - calls are dropped easily.

The Titanic is ready to sail again, maybe she'll make it this time.