Biological Warfare Of Farts

When you live with one of your best friends in a cell the size of a tool shed gas becomes a serious chemical weapon. The balance of power shifts from day to day. Some nights I turn this place into Hiroshima, other nights belong to my bunkie. I'm starting to realize: there are no winners in a nuclear war. Someone has to break this cycle of mutually assured destruction. But it’s usually the guy without the nukes that is willing to negotiate for peace. But right now I'm sitting on all this enriched Uranium...so, for now, the war rages on....Sorry Joe...someone else can pray for peace.