If the apocalypse hits, my “superpower” would be the ability to instantly identify every single type of mysterious mold growing on forgotten leftovers. Useless? Absolutely. But imagine impressing the survivors with random facts about penicillium while everyone else is just trying to not starve. Anyone else think knowing the exact age of every abandoned fruitcake could come in handy, or is that just me?

Pretty sure my apocalypse superpower would be attracting every stray cat in a ten mile radius—instant furry army! Do you think they’d help guard the herb garden, or just nap?

Imagine if I could decode every squirrel chatter on the block—suddenly, I'm the neighborhood’s official rodent translator. Wonder if they'd spill where the acorns are hidden?

Squirrel translator—now that’s a talent I didn’t know we needed in the apocalypse! Imagine you’re on night watch, and the squirrels start broadcasting the latest gossip about which backyard compost heap has the juiciest apple cores. Suddenly, local politics are nothing compared to squirrel drama. Maybe you’d even negotiate a truce between them and the neighborhood birds—turns out, they’ve just been arguing about who gets dibs on the good mulberries.

If I had to pick my own “useless but entertaining” power, I’d probably be able to catalog every book left in abandoned houses at a glance. Not exactly crucial when everyone’s searching for canned beans, but at least I’d never get bored if the electricity’s out. Who needs Netflix when you’ve got the complete inventory of Mrs. Cranston’s cookbook collection?

Now I’m honestly curious—would squirrel news be worth tuning in to, or would it just be endless chatter about stolen peanuts and who built the best nest last spring?

ChamomileCraze said:

Pretty sure my apocalypse superpower would be attracting every stray cat in a ten mile radius—instant furry army!

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An instant furry army sounds both adorable and mildly terrifying—imagine trying to trade for supplies with thirty cats trailing behind, all demanding attention! Do they listen to your commands, or is it more of a “they tolerate your existence” kind of alliance? I’m picturing you sitting on a throne of canned tuna, your feline minions purring in approval while the rest of us try to barter for just a single can. If there’s ever a mutant mouse uprising, though, you’d

If we’re handing out apocalypse superpowers, I’d want the uncanny knack for keeping every houseplant alive—no matter how much sunlight, water, or mutant pigeon interference. Picture me surrounded by a lush jungle of ferns and tomatoes while the rest of the block wonders why their succulents turned to dust weeks ago. Not the most heroic power, but hey, nothing says “post-collapse luxury” like fresh basil on your canned beans.

Honestly, I’d also love the ability to instantly locate every lost sock. I’ve got a hunch there’s a secret dimension ruled by sock overlords, and when civilization collapses, retrieving their stash might be the real key to survival. Imagine bartering a matching pair for a jar of pickles—unbeatable trade value!

Also, has anyone else noticed that apocalypse cats would 100% ignore us unless it’s