"I have a major concern, for one," shrieked one, a portly gentlewoman by the name of Denise. "My beautiful little boy, Anthony Joseph, is being made fun of for his weight!" she continued, polishing off a chicken bone. "But he can't help it! It's in his genes! He has a leptin deficiency; he can help his weight about as much as I can!" She reached into the KFC bucket at her feet and retrieved a thigh. "I move," she said, spewing bits of meat in all directions, "that we instigate a campaign to raise awareness of children with the kinds of special needs that Anthony Joseph has!" Applause and statements of general agreement echoed through the room.

"Like, yeah!" Janet, a young, perky, and thoroughly blonde woman stood up, "I'm sure you've all met my Nevaeh. Her principal is, like, trying to get me to, like, send her to a different school, even though I've explained her condition, like, several times! She's, like, an indigo child and they just don't appreciate her talents!"

"So is my son, Carter!" said another woman named Janet. "It's a shame that such gifted children are often held back from achieving all that they can." She frowned.

"Would you mind telling me the signs of having an Indigo child, Janet?" asked a ridiculously tiny brunette woman.

"Like, no problem, Tina! They're, like, really curious and they ask a lot of questions. Like, 'What's this, what's that, why's this?' type stuff. They have trouble with accepting authority because they prefer to, like, hold on to their own solutions, and they have trouble concentrating on one thing for a long time. They're, like, super gifted."

Tina's mouth took the shape of a perfect O. "Oh my God! That describes my little Buffy to the T! Do you think that she might be an Indigo child too?"

Denise scoffed. "I don't think so. You know, seeing as how there's no such thing as a damn 'Indigo child'!" The Janets' mouths hung open, amazed at her audacity.

"How dare you?!" said the second Janet, "I per-"

"No, how dare you?!" interrupted Denise, "I'm shocked that you would even put your imaginary aura bullshit in the same league as the problems of my family and my son!"

"All right, all right, break it up, girls," said Kate, unsettling smile still plastered across her face. "All of your problems are valid concerns and we'll be sure to bring them up at the next PTO meeting." All three women sank into their chairs in the exact manner that a three-year-old would after being told not to run with scissors. "Are there any other concerns?" There was a pause.

"I have a concern," said a mousy peroxide blonde. "My Clayton loves to play outside, but when he comes back inside, he's filthy! Just disgusting. He's always covered with mud and I'm afraid that he's going to get sick, or develop some kind of allergy!"

"Relax, Cheryl!" said a woman named Darlene. "That's a common concern. Just make sure to scrub him off with anti-bacterial soap when he comes back inside. It'll kill all of the bacteria he picks up outside and prevent him from getting sick ever again!"

"That's a great idea!" Cheryl said, perking up slightly. He always comes inside to watch television. I can clean him off while he watches Rugrats."

"You let your children watch that garbage?!" Denise said with a tone not entirely unlike that of a caw. "Cheryl, honestly. I'd expect this from some of the other mothers here," she glared at the Janets, "But definitely not you!"

Cheryl blinked.

"The Rugrats are a horrible influence on our children! What kind of lessons do they teach?! Just look at Angelica! She's a terrible little brat and she gets everything that she wants! What kind of message is that sending to our children?! I only let my children watch shows that teach valuable life lessons, like—"

Denise never got a chance to finish her opinion regarding suitable children's entertainment. She was interrupted by a sudden flash of white light following by a deafening pop and then an eternal, unnerving silence.

Everybody had died in a hellish atomic explosion.