Even after all the chaos, killing and pointless atrocities, I still can't believe it was the lack of toilet paper that sparked the madness which utterly destroyed my neighborhood. Not the lack of meat or readily available protein. Not the memory of bread. Not the absence of Coca Cola.
In the end it was the inability to adapt to wiping our cooters and/or assholes with something other than plush, quilted toilet paper that sent the populace over the edge.
Turns out the average American can deal without having burgers or kielbasa and sauerkraut for much longer than they can deal with the trauma of wiping their excretory bits with something other than what they were accustomed to.
The killing started within 36 hours of the total loss of bathroom tissue. People who used to barbecue together and have block parties now savagely murdered their neighbors and friends for those sweet, sweet shit tickets.
Gleeful butchery as long simmering disagreements over hedges, property lines and jealousy over lighting arrangements boiled over into all out intra-street warfare, with the underlying triumph being the seizure of your slaughtered neighbor's stash of quality ass-wipe fodder along with whatever of their other possessions took your fancy.
Luckily for me, I adapted to the post-toilet paper world readily as I had a handy supply of t-shirts which no longer fit as well as dozens of socks with holes in the heels or toes that I had never gotten around to throwing out.
When I ran out of those, I adapted again, utilizing old porn mags and vintage Hit Parader magazines to wipe my butt. The came the curtains and small squares of bath towels. Then stray dogs when I could catch them.
I used whatever I had to to get by. I grew immune to remorse. Corpse hair works in a pinch, better than oak leaves by far.....
Some folks failed to evolve, they couldn't swallow the shame and just stopped wiping altogether. They became pitiable creatures, plagued with any number of anal related hygiene problems. Generally very irritable and likely to attack with little or no provocation. As time went on, I found it best to just shoot someone who was walking funny as they were usually insane from their backdoor torments.
I survived the turmoil be the simple expedient of having food, not really being concerned about what touched my sphincter in a cleansing aspect, and shooting every single cunt who tried to use the walls outside my door as cover as they tried to breach my reinforced door.
I may not be able to see them, but even trained people are predictable in the available cover they choose. The only problem with their available choices are that my .45's don't recognize single walls of lathe and plaster as substantial obstacles and I have had great success just shooting these desperate fuckwits through my walls.
The strength of your access points is critical to your survival in these marauding times. Your defense is only going to be as good as you controlling access to your space. And if you're faced with motivated and equipped enough antagonists, your best isn't gonna do unless you live in a completely self sufficient, impregnable vault.
Good luck with that.
Speaking of home defense, the Cannibal Road Gangs around here are starting to really come out of the denial closet and just flat out admit they're going to eat you if they can catch or shoot you. While I appreciate their transparency, having to constantly fight them off is taking a toll on my ammo supply. Sure, they collect their dead for pot roast so I don't have to smell them and that's nice. But it's not like they're doing it for me.
I'm not opposed to the idea of cannibalism per se, in fact I have stockpiled many dry rubs and marinades in preparation for the day I must feast on long pig or die. That being said, context is everything and while having to eat a fallen comrade for survival is an unpleasant prospect, actively hunting down other people for food and enjoying the act seems a bit excessive to me and I hope at some point another option becomes available other than suicide.
In all honesty, this new world which we find ourselves in: post toilet paper, post law enforcement, post morality, post easily obtainable food, post vodka, does have it's own pleasures. I can't lie to you and say that I didn't enjoy killing all those feral scumbags that tried to kick down my door and take all my stuff after filling me full of lead.
I was defending my cat. I love her but to a hungry stranger I can easily see how delicious she looks. I can't be having any of that. If anyone's going to eat her, it's going to be me. And I'll cry while I do it.
But that's the world we live in nowadays. Full of tears and greatly lacking in air conditioning.
The Former Herder of Strippers,