Haunted with anxiety over a looming nuclear holocaust? That's right, it was the 1980s. America's comic book community had no choice but to confront the issue the only way they knew how... by writing and drawing their own comic books about how awesome it was going to be after the Big One dropped.


You're right, sharp-eyed Stupid Comics reader! This isn't the first time we've covered an independently published atomic survival adventure comic book with the title "Aftermath." But this one is different. This one's set in Texas. You can tell - everything's a little bigger, even the hideous mutants.


Let's just get the devastation of the Northern Hemisphere, the collapse of nation-states and the extermination of a quarter of the world's population out of the way first, so we can get to the REALLY important stuff.


He was out of the house before the sun had even thought about rising - after all, "no limit" day on mutant hunting only comes once a year!


I know this looks like our hunter is explosively regretting his breakfast burrito, but it's really just the mutants he's hunting hunting him right back.


It's strange how these mutants are almost human, just those bulging eyes... maybe they've just got hyperthyroidism, maybe you're just shooting a bunch of poor slobs suffering from Graves' Disease. Ever think of that?


Uh oh, looks like the surfin' mutant has knifed our hero, sorry, plunged his blade deeply into our hero, three or four times pretty good there. I guess he's done for? No, he's still alive and kicking and snapping spines, as the very descriptive captions are helpfully reminding us.


Yeah, I bet Hunter feels sick. Bleeding out from several deep puncture wounds, he's going to want to take the rest of the day off. And yes, this hunter's name is actually Hunter.


Sure, it's called 'first aid,' but the FIRST thing you do after being stabbed is install those radiation sensors. Your knife wounds can wait.


Is it really a "perimeter" if everything is just facing one way? No. No it's not.


In spite of atomic war and worldwide destruction, the Houston punk scene is as witty and vibrant as ever! Or maybe these are mutants? It's really hard to tell.


Five claymore mines to kill one guy? I see Hunter here is still wasteful with munitions like he's back in Vietnam.


Oh, I get it, the old "this hurts me more than it hurts you" speech. Just filled with remorse there, buddy, I betcha


Nothing like a brisk morning jog to really open up those stab wounds.


Punks could be behind this! Or maybe people with thyroid problems. So hit that alert button!


We're not going to clear the hallway until you do the pose. Come on, do the pose. Come on... all right! Let's clear that hallway people!


Meanwhile in Camp Punk, the leader of the punks delivers exposition to his minions. Rigid, blind obedience to all authority figures... that's what punk is all about. I think.


Hideous nuclear mutants and traumatized wasteland warriors both have the speech patterns of midwestern insurance salesmen, merely one more horrifying result of the atomic war.


Like all great treaties, this one is commemorated by the smoking of a comically large blunt. And like all great treaties, this one will be broken almost immediately.


Will normal humanity be able to survive the onslaught of an army of Toxic Avenger Look-Alike Contest winners???


The great part about their parody song is where they stop in the middle of their parody song to remind you of the original song they are parodying. It's just helpful.


Our story takes another turn here as somehow it's decided these wasteland punks are really into both ancient Egyptian culture, posing like Sheena Easton album covers, and explaining their economic strategy of "making everything worse for everyone."


It's time for the Trade, the neutral exchange where punks, mutants, and "normals" all gather to celebrate food, as seen by the banner reading "food." It's also a great place to introduce a new character who is kind of a tomboy feminist and also is inexplicably crushing on Hunter.


Hunter! The weird hateful punk rock Egyptian gang might be weird and hateful, so look out!


I've said it before and I'll say it again. If you're going to break the 'show, don't tell' rule, break the HELL out of it


Weapons and supplies for the mutant assault are handed out. Judging by the looks of that stick figure army, they're going to need all the help they can get!


Dripping face mutant, cracked skull mutant, burn victim mutant... black guy? Black people are mutants? Is that really where you want to go with this, Aftermath?


The best military strategy is to line all your guys up in a nice clean row, keep everything tidy. War is easier that way.


This would have been a good spot for those claymore mines, but Hunter used them all on that one guy back in the city. Oh well.


They SAY they're coming out to your straight edge all ages hardcore show, but they don't ever show up! Treacherous filth, those punks!


If you didn't have a subscription to "Maximum Rocknroll" back in the 80s it was difficult to get good photo reference for punks, so here the artist just used some National Geographic photographs of indigenous Amazon tribespeople. Kids in line for a Circle Jerks gig, Shuar hunters in the jungle, what's the difference, really?


The treaty of non-agression between the punks and the mutants has been shattered, to the surprise of absolutely no one.


I get torching the crops, but then engaging in a famous 1960s Myrtle Beach SC teen dance craze immediately afterwards? That doesn't seem wise! The Mainstreeters will definitely catch you mid-shag!


When the mutant grabs you from behind screaming "KILL! KILL!" he's really asking for you to kill him.


Again with the "this hurts me more than it hurts you" nonsense. Sure, you're so sensitive, we definitely feel your pain, guy who just shot someone point blank in the head.


Well, we were feeling sorry for the mutants, but it turns out they let Hitler into the mutant club, and if there's one thing we know about clubs, it's that if you let one Hitler in, it becomes a Hitler club.


Turns out Main Street has flamethrowers, which is a thing they could have been using all along, I guess.


Remember our tomboy sort of feminist? Here she is helping out. She's helping!


"Look it's very simple. First I make sure my mohawk is perfect. Then we burn the crops down. This makes food more valuable, and we trade gasoline for food, so we'll be trading more gasoline. This means our gasoline is more valuable! That's right, we just re-invented inflation! No I didn't think this plan through, I am a doofus whose entire personality is my hairstyle!"


Knifed by a betrayed mutant? I'm pretty sure there's a Misfits song about this exact situation.


Meanwhile back in civilization, news of a Russian invasion of Texas is met with swift action. Action in the form of "scheduling a meeting for the following morning" and "smoking pipes and cigars furiously." America's recovery from atomic disaster is in good hands!


But the threat of mutants, punks, residual radiation poisoning, crop failure and Russian task forces will have to wait while we struggle with an even graver threat; circus clowns with knives.

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