When the sharks start losing their eyeballs and you can see right through their skulls, you know you’re in the midst of the end of times. What do you do? I know what I’m doing. Gonna go to my dresser of drawers. Grab this shirt. Put it on. Then figure out what type of scary apocalyptic monstrosity took a bite out of the moon.
And then I’m going to lay splayed out on the roof of my Geo Metro and sob for 39 straight hours. And then eat wads and wads of cotton candy for the first time in 36 years.