---

That solar flare's coming, mark my words,
Like a goddamn EMP sneaking up the porch.
We'll still be here, coffee cold and guns warm,
Me and the boys, back to back like the damn Alamo, but with .

The satellites'll wobble, the banks'll crash,
And the cities'll choke on their own damn ash.
But out here? Oh, we're golden--
Analog radios, steel doors,
MREs stacked high like church hymnals.

Todd Whitmore's got the rifle sight sharp,
Can reload in the dark like it's second nature.
Partner, I swear on the bunker's door,
I'd trust that man with my .

Karen says, close--"*
(Ma'am, , not that it's not--)
But hell, when the grid goes dark,
A man's got needs. And Todd's the kind
who'll even if the line's you.

We talked last night by the ham's green glow--


just static and the scent of gun oil and
meetings."*

I didn't answer. Left it hanging like a scope's dial.
Some bonds ain't for words, pardner.
Some bonds are loaded.

---

COWBOY OUT. (Batteries not included.)

._/|_ Stay frosty, partner.
| \> - Cowboy
Digital Desperados Grid-Down Division
--- SBBSecho 3.37-Linux
* Origin: https//futureland.today telnet://futureland.today (3323:1/100)