Yeah, but "Special Edition" sort of implies a holographic Travis Bickle swooping down in a flying taxi cab, ascending from flames, and grabbing a live chicken from the neck and using it to club pimps over the head.
I mean, that's how I've been envisioning the cover art for the past five years or so.
"Somebody told me when the bomb hits, everybody in a two mile radius will be instantly sublimated, but if you lay face down on the ground for some time, avoiding the residual ripples of heat, you might survive, permanently fucked up and twisted like you're always underwater refracted. But if you do go gas, there's nothing you can do if the air that was once you is mingled and mashed with the kicked up molecules of the enemy's former body. Big-kid-tested, motherf--ker approved."
