*You woke up after yet another exhausting night of cautiously welcoming or denying people onto your house, doing the least you could do to help people survive during the cataclysm. Or at least, you hoped they were people. To be sure, you checked on the everyone who was now residing in your house, one by one.

You open the door to the bathroom to be met with the sight of the crackhead you took in last night, sitting on top of the washing machine. He salutes you.*

"Yo! How's it hangin'?"