Pestilence watched Famine and Pollution through the bottom of his glass. They were... cute... together. And he always had a soft spot for cigarettes anyways. Emphazyma was such a nasty disease. All that phlegm! Made him hot.
He shook his head. Shouldn't think that. He glanced at DEATH, who always seemed to know what they were all thinking. But it was always pretty hard to gauge what the being was thinking. "Its too quite in here." Pestilence blurted out as he walked towards the jukebox. Flipping through the music selection he finally found something he liked.
Blue Oyster Cult began to tell them not to fear the reaper.
"There you go, kid. Some noise pollution, too."