There is a big annual biker rally coming through town this week. I plan on getting destroyed through means of alcohol consumption and otherwise, and then paying tribute to the gonzo by covering the whole slapdash event in a short story or something similar.

I'm just warning everyone, my brain cells will drop significantly in a weeks time.

"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."