Stu's up in his hilltop mansion cradling his AK-15 assault rifle. He's waiting for the barbarians. Waiting for the blacks. And the immigrants. And the mouthy women. Waiting for The End.
While Stu waits he remembers. Grows nostalgic. Longs to revisit the glory days of his youth when, fresh out of college, he lived free as a bird for a couple years out on the open road. Free of possessions. Free of responsibilities. Free of attitudes. Free of hate.
Stu hears them. Coming up through the woods. He sees them racing across the manicured lawn. Over the wall and up onto the patio. A lawn chair crashes through the picture window.
They're coming Stu. They're coming to get you!
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