In times of struggle, stress and apocalypse, one becomes highly aware of their own hierachy of needs. I had an apocalyptic dream last night and by that I mean, the end of the world was nigh. Really, really nigh. Whatever was causing this massacre was unknown to me, however it very well could have been nuclear or maybe even weatherly, or something. We were down to the bare essentials in our house and, when I opened a can of Diet Coke, my mother began to panic. "No, no, no, Tammy! Keep the diet coke!" and so, naturally, I simply refined the coke into a couple of teaspoons of powder to be supplemented with water at a later date. I walked over to a drawer, opened it and pulled out a small bottle, assuming it was bottled water kept especially safe in a drawer for a time such as it were; the apocalypse. I unscrewed the lid and poured a few drops into the mug, brought it to my lips and recoiled. My tongue felt heavy, like something had latched onto it. I looked at the bottle and realised it was gin. "No no no!" I said to myself, "Not the gin! I can't waste it! I need it for the apocalypse!" and on it went. On and on it went into the greatest node of all time.

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