One thing about after the apocalypse is you can’t get dirt on you—I mean you can, but you better not—it stings and itches like crazy, and I don’t know about you but I can’t get anything accomplished if I don’t feel clean. Plus water’s a problem, even after everything. And sand—you know I read in a book when I was a kid about how to wash by scrubbing with sand—but now that’s even worse—what would you expect, it’s just another kind of dirt. Everything makes for one rash or another, some with welts, some with, well, stinking welts, or welts that take over your whole body, or welts that blend in with other people’s welts, or the welts on the animals and trees, or the welts on the dirt and on the water. The whole point of the apocalypse was to feel clean. What a load.
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