Howdy Partner, Hold Your Horses (Cause You Won't Need Them After This) - A Totally Unofficial Guide to Surviving a Nuke in H-Town
Alright folks, gather 'round and let's talk about a worst-case scenario that'll hopefully never happen, but hey, knowledge is power, and knowing how to survive a nuclear blast in Houston might just come in handy if you ever run into a disgruntled alien with a grudge against rodeos and chili cook-offs.
The Big Boom: It Ain't No Fireworks Show
First things first, the blast. Imagine the biggest, baddest oil well fire you've ever seen, multiply it by a million, and then throw in a light show that'll make even the Astrodome jealous. That's what we're talking about. Don't look directly at it! Your eyeballs will thank you later.
Now, depending on where you are in H-Town when this little surprise goes off, things can get a bit toasty. Within a couple of miles: well, let's just say you're gonna be wishing you wore more sunscreen. Further out, you might just get a serious case of sunburn and a bad case of the "what-the-heck-just-happened?" shakes.
Dodging the Demolition Derby: Where to Hide When It All Goes Haywire
Here's the tricky part. Buildings? Toast. Your fancy new F-150? Melted like a popsicle on a Texas summer day. Your best bet? Find yourself some good ol' fashioned underground shelter. Basements, subway tunnels (just avoid the radioactive alligators, we all know they're down there), even storm drains in a pinch (just make sure it's not already occupied by a grumpy possum).
Remember: Time is of the essence. You got about 30 seconds to get to cover before the shockwave hits, so don't be that guy fumbling for his cowboy hat on the way out.
The Fallout: When the Fun Really Begins (Just Kidding, It's Not Fun)
Now, once the dust settles (literally, there'll be a lot of dust), you've got a whole new set of problems. Radiation – it's like glitter, but way less festive and infinitely more dangerous. Don't go frolicking in the radioactive rain, and if you see that weird green glow coming from something, steer clear, partner!
Here's the good news: Most of the dangerous radiation chills out after a few days. The bad news? The party favors (glowing cockroaches, anyone?) might linger for a bit longer.
Rebuilding H-Town: Bigger, Better, and Hopefully Not Radioactive
So, you survived the blast, the fallout, and that awkward moment when you realized your phone won't work because, well, everything's fried. Now what?
Here's the inspiring part: Texans are a tough bunch. We rebuilt Galveston after the hurricane, we'll rebuild Houston after a nuclear mishap. We'll just have to do it with slightly more lead-lined suits and a whole lot less barbecue for a while.
Look on the bright side: Maybe all that radiation will give our sports teams some superpowers. Now wouldn't that be a sight? The Houston Texans, so radioactive they actually win a game!
Disclaimer: This is not actual survival advice. In the event of a nuclear attack, please follow the official guidelines from your local authorities. This is for entertainment purposes only, and by entertainment, we mean a healthy dose of gallows humor to cope with the absurdity of the situation.
