Valentine’s Day is approaching, so rev your romance engines with this prose from Griswold, Poet Laureate in the year 2287. If this doesn’t convince you that nuclear decimation of the human race is a really bad thing, I don’t know what will, but this is what’s left in humanity’s Talent Coffer once everyone else has been blown to cinders.
The first pictures are selections from Griswold’s Poetry Journal. These detail a saga of Griswold’s reflections on his greatness, and contemplations of Sue.
The last picture here is Sue’s. Likely the only eligible female in this raider camp of Monsignor Plaza, she has her own thoughts on Griswold.