Four ruffians break into my house, “what the devil!” I saw as I grab my powdered rig and 25,000kg cube of Uranium 235. I throw it at the first man and crush him into a pulp under the weight, dead on the spot. I pull out my screw driver I was using to keep the metal enclosure from closing and throw it at the next man, miss entirely because I don’t play baseball and nail the neighbor’s dog. I run to the mini nuke launcher mounted at the top of my stairs loaded with a fat man, “tally ho lads” I say as two men evaporate in the blast, the blast sets off car alarms for miles, the fourth man is melting on my kitchen floor as the cube has gone critical, and he dies of radiation sickness as we wait for the police to arrive as radiation damage is impossible to cure, just as the founding fathers intended

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