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The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation

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this is the apocalypse
children of dune - leto 1
While monitoring the ziploc bag situation in the area of the garage which hosts the storage shelving unit, I noted we are officially at a point where we can call that area inventory and by my count, we're about two toilet paper rolls, one deep freeze filled with deer meat, and a small arsenal away from being listed on a survivalist watch list and people saying that we were quiet and kept to ourselves.

This is not, I repeat, not a dream of mine, but at this point, it may be a future reality I have to deal with. Also noted:

1.) Ungodly number of zip ties.
2.) More hand and power tools than I think anyone not building their own secret bunker could possibly need.
3.) Two shovels, which only tells me that the future bunker digging is gonna be a bitch.
4.) Extra wood furniture in the attic, I suppose for the coming of nuclear winter?
5.) A disturbing number of AA and AAA batteries.
6.) A lifetime supply of scissors in more sizes than I thought existed.
7.) A toolbox that cannot be opened by any conventional means.
8.) A stunning variety of Cup O'Noodles (delicious) in both chicken (awesome), beef (not bad), and shrimp (an abomination unto God).
9.) Uncountable Ramen secreted in various places throughout the house (I don't know why an unopened package of Ramen was under my bed, and dude, I am not stupid enough to ask.)
10.) A giant stuffed animal who may or may not have shown up on Sesame Street.
11.) Box of unused yarn, horrific colors.

Put together....well, I don't know what this means. I just feel that under the circumstances, it should make me nervous because I'm going to be honest, not really a survivor myself. I'm of the weak who will perish during the survival of the fittest when I lose access to Amazon.com and DW and have a psychotic fit when AO3 breathes its last. I'm saying this won't end well for me.

Not only that--I can shoot. I'm from Texas, and what wasn't passed in my bloodstream was taught early on. I can shoot, but not well. I can hit something, but I can't guarantee what it will be or where, and the answer is as likely to be 'my own foot or some appendage' as anything. I can fish, but that assumes the fish are proactive about biting and the bait very, very still. And someone else is holding the fishing pole. I am strangely--almost surreally, to be honest--better with an actual longbow, which literally makes no sense to anyone living, except for the fact that the first time I tried it was with a hot guy watching and weirdly enough, I am that shallow. And I paid for that shit for days, since I didn't have my arm guard on right and oh my God, gritting my teeth through the pain in a fit of vanity was such a mistake.

Yet, I do not see a post-nuclear-fallout world that is going to need a lot of bowwomen, especially since my requirements will be "and send a hot male along with me for eyecandy purposes". I mean, by then, humanity will be so mutated, if I don't have a taste for face-tentacles and superfluous arms, well--I don't, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. I suppose if we can find a costume store that's survived, I could request he wear some kind of mask a la Phantom of the Opera, but if they don't have any in black, well, there goes that idea.

In other news, Dean the phone has been replaced and is being cared for and coddled beside me while I tell him he's a very, very good boy. Our love is pure.

Posted at Dreamwidth: http://seperis.dreamwidth.org/964223.html. | You can reply here or there. | comment count unavailable comments

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I kind of want someone to write the post-apocalyptic story where a snarky bowwoman acquires a hapless hot male (or we can reverse who is snarky and who is hapless! Or everyone can be both!) and together they fight! crime! or something. You know, survival things. *handwave*

That would be amazing.

You just made me laugh so hard.

Face tentacles. Probably prehensile so they'll try to remove the mask. It's just a bad post-Apoc sitch all around.

(Deleted comment)
Plus face-tentacles. Who wants those?

At least your mother doesn't try to grow enough food to last an entire year. And then talk, longingly, about the days when her mother would do the exact thing, ALONG with freezing an entire cow in the industrial freezer that would feed them for a year.

I think the weirdest thing my family hordes is those little christmas village series? The one you only bring out at the holidays and inevitably ends up in the attic collecting dust.

*dies laughing* I have one of those villages, but I haven't taken it out since my niece and nephew became mobile but not quite age of reason. I figure this year I will be able to, finally. *g*

I'm the one who's going to inherit both my mother's and my fussy aunt's collections of houses. Just finding space for them is going to be daunting, but damned if it won't go up at least once. Or maybe just sell my aunt's collection and keep my mother's. It's the Dicken's village series. We got her some seriously cool pieces, too, as I recall years and years ago.

...now I'm really gonna have to go dig them out one of these days.

Mine is Wal-Mart, started when I was a wee clerk and made no money, and unforutnately, each piece, while awesome, and I do mean that, is large. I'm looking into one of the slightly smaller ones because the ones I have, each building has to be carried with two hands and are currently stacked in the garage like a terrifying ceramic wall.

There are some cute villages on ebay, so I'm thinking of reading those listing for a few months and see if I can find real life examples and start buying some of them.

The Dickens Village series is pretty neat. *looksitup* Yeah. Department 56 series. I seem to recall we'd buy them at, like, home and garden centers? And like, ACE Hardware or something. Really odd. But that's where we'd go to get them. Most of them aren't that big, though some of the larger pieces can get a little hefty.

I was under the impression that you believed that it would be your Child who was likely to kick the whole thing off, so I suspect you would be safe in an everything-proof bunker beforehand. With optional clone-minion army to do the whole forage'n'fight thing.

I'll be in a vat of pink goo being cloned. It'll be like, Dr. Frost meets Psycho, but without psuedoincestuous crossdressing identity issues, though I don't put it past him to find a hotel somewhere.

I love this post and want to live in it.

I'm sorry -- this was *lol* for me, especially 8) and 9).

It just seemed like such awesome randomness. You really lifted my spirits reading this -- thank you :-D

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