ITT Speedy Onion's view on what would happen if everyone died but him
ooh ooh now its my turn
Doomcop walks the streets of his neighborhood at night. His pants, though he recalls them being on his person, are draped over his bed at home.
There's a throbbing in his head. In his brain. In his very essence.
Each step, each slap of his half-shoed feet against the pavement sends another wave of pain to his head.
Each headlight brings a blinding flash - a painful flash. The kind of flash that makes you say "hey buddy knock it off that hurts".
Calls to put clothes on have been ignored. Hopeless cries bounce off deaf ears. Text messages have been sent to his phone, currently somewhere in the sewers after being flushed down the toilet.
Someone asked him why he wasnt wearing pants. The answer never came. Then he climbed a tree and threw pinecones at the brave soul who approached him.
He can still hear their shouts. Oh their angry cacophonous shouts. He can see them wearing their trucker caps and the shirt that says "forget You!" on it. He can see the bugs in their beards and the asparagus in their teeth as they told him to get the forget out of their bar. He could feel how rough the gravel was. He can feel how heavy, oh how painfully heavy six bouncers are when they all jump on you at once.
uh
i forget the rest but its touching i assure you
