Its Death By A Thousand Coughs In Three, Two, One…

Something dreadful this way heads.

Through everyone’s back door.

Even back doors no one

knew they had. But

came she deed. So

Qua… qua… quietly.

Thank you, friend.

Barry out.

Everyone grab a nuclear number while they’re hot because tomorrow they’ll be hotter.

How’s the cleanup ideas coming and are we all moving to another dimension?