She says you never do anything sweet for her anymore and that she feels like you two only have sex to procreate in order to keep the human race from becoming extinct.
“I could sing,” you suggest.
She says go for it and you sing an old Carole King song that was popular before the hellfire turned the earth into a hot rock of pain and horror.
“Do you feel the things you sing in that song?” she asks. “Do you feel them for me?”
Tell her yes. Tell her the human race is very lucky because it’s going to have a beautiful new mother.
She’ll say, “I want you to say sweet things to me. More often. I want you to be sweet to me.”
Just then a 300 pound mutated rat will burst through the bunker door and you’ll wrestle it to the ground and slice it across its throat before it can hurt her. As you wipe the rat blood from your face go to her and say, “Guess he must’ve smelled all that sugar in your veins and wanted a taste of you, Sweetiepie.”
She’ll smile, and she’ll kiss the bloody wounds in your chest where the mutated rat bit through your radiation cloak.
Happy Bunker Fight Day!
