Once my brother's primary molecularity broke down, I knew the end was near. "Here, have a large hunk of cheddar cheese and you'll feel like a million bucks again," I said, even though it was evident that cheese was not the remedy to reversing the dissolving nature of his thoracic cavity.

Just after the last war, Tyrone and Bucky found a wallet stuffed with money. "We're *****-rich!" Bucky exclaimed in their forest encampment. "Not so fast," Tyrone cautioned. "My mama was *****-rich once for three weeks before a telephone pole fell on her." Bucky snarled at that and growled: "We're *****-rich! Either you accept that or all of our ***** advancements in helicopter telemetry and yaw control mean nothing!"