Allen, Pollution, and Yellow Flowers in a Lab

Allen drank the toxic waste because there was nothing else to drink, the vending machine down the hall had long been decayed as though it were the rotting flesh of one of those zombies that showed up in those movies that people used to be obsessed about except that it was metal and glass that was deteriorating.  Toxicity had become common place along all of the normal comforts of the world that it was not odd for Allen to have to drink out of the barrel.  The skull and crossbones did not stop him, and the half life symbol only represented a sort of  delicacy that this part of the world found itself devouring.  Unlike most of the other shit that the other survivors drank Allen's brew was a mixture of soda water and plutonium, a concoction only sweetened by the addition of slick battery acid.  In his lab he had all of the necessary poisons to sweeten his juice, and the beaker was ready.  The bun-son burners flame was quick in bringing the liquid to a boil, and then he let it cool for five minutes.   He placed an old shirt into his own collar like a handkerchief, it was grimy and full of dirt, and the beaker sat before him.  In this sort of apocalyptic abyss the only place for yellow flowers were as little umbrellas inside a pollutant cocktail.