You’re on Day 34 of shooting on the reality show Kid Bunker, where a bunch of kids live together in a bunker deep underground, completely unsupervised, and none of you know that the world ended on the surface last week.
“Jeff had better watch his step,” you’re telling the camera during your Confession Session. “If he plays with my PSP once more without asking, I’m going to break his dumb face.”
You and Jeff have been going at it from day one, and when there were still viewers of your show, before everyone was incinerated in a nuclear blast, fans of the show sided with you.
“I don’t know why Jeff thinks it’s okay to be a poophead, but he does.”
“Poophead” is your signature dis. It was sweeping the nation almost as fast as the wall of hot white light and flame stormed from sea to sea after the silos were remotely infiltrated and detonated. Thousands of people bought “Poophead” t-shirts and wore them proudly. All those t-shirts are ash now.
“I think today I might tell Emily I like her,” you say to the camera, your face turning red.
Emily is a ten-year-old brown-haired girl who likes to draw with you. You two have been having an adorable will-they-won’t-they relationship. Before millions of pairs of eyes burst like grapes in a heat that rivaled that of the sun, all eyes were planted on the screen whenever you two played together, waiting for one of you to lean over and plant a kiss on the other’s cheek.
“Okay that’s all I have to say. Bye mommy I miss you!”
She used to love watching you sign off all your confessions with that.
Happy Kid Bunker Day!
