This is a story I wrote for a class last quarter. It came out pretty well, I think. The title is "Overwhelming Tragedy," and it's intended to be full of my somewhat dry humor. I plan to publish it at some point. (It's basically filler, because I'm still trying to connect Afrofuturism and Turntablism in my mind.) Enjoy.
In one day, I've lost my parents, grandparents, three of four brothers, all four sisters, two half-brothers, three half-sisters, six uncles, one aunt, more in-laws than I really care to count (didn't really like most of them anyway), a dozen or so friends, a handful of close friends, my wife and best friend, most of my neighbors and their extended families, three-quarters of the staff at my local post office, a majority of the service and retail personnel at establishments I've patronized since moving to this town, my cat Silky, the mice that live in my apartment (somewhere in the upper 90s), 95% of the ants in the colonies in the front lawn (this obviously includes all the queens), and all the Salmonella enterica within a thirty-block radius. Their lives will be missed, I guess.
And my brother has five different kinds of terminal diseases and/or illnesses. He'll probably die soon, and he's been begging me to kill him. I'm thinking I'll just find him a syringe and some bleach – not really in the mood to off someone myself at this point.
Most of the people I described a second ago committed suicide, the lingering, slow-and-painful type – I'd say around four-fifth of them or so. The vast majority of that consisted of the Salmonella enterica and ants, with maybe fifteen assorted humans mixed in somewhere. I really don't have the space or time or patience to write out all the horrifying deaths of my loved ones and associates (almost forgot – fifty of fifty-two coworkers died in various ways as well), but suffice it to say that confirming them all was a living nightmare. Six hundred twenty-four trillion bacteria (obviously an approximation) aren't easy to count in one sitting, and I'm not going to bother notifying next-of-kin if I'm only going to do it to the tiny minority.
All of this – I'd like to say it affected me somehow, but the events of the day immediately before have made me a bit numb (for example, I didn't even feel pain when I cut my thumb with a butter knife five minutes ago). The events of that day might fill a novel, so I'll just say that it ruined my ability to appreciate borrowing the always-available “great classics of literature” from the library. Now that I think about it, I need to hit the library again – that wait list for the Harry Potter books and DVDs is likely to be very, very short now. I'll be first in line for number seven. Woo hoo.
So. Walking through a town devoid of virtually all non-plant life is an interesting experience, kinda like going into a closed-down boarded-up movie theater. Until you get used to everything, even the littlest sound makes you jump, but it's no longer embarrassing to hum my favorite songs from Phantom of the Opera out loud in public. Also: the lack of people has made it possible for me to receive cell calls anywhere I can get reception – the social situation in which I am not allowed to answer an incoming call no longer exists. Then again, it's also unlikely that I'll get a call in the men's room at any point in the near future, now that everyone is gone. I can finally pee in golden silence. Unless this is like that one Twilight Zone, where the guy survives and wants to read, but breaks his glasses – only tailored for me, so that I lose the ability to use my urethra in any way, or something.
I'm beginning to wonder if, maybe, everyone's playing a colossal practical joke on me, and they're just waiting for me to either be jubilant or morosely depressed. They're going to have to keep waiting, then. I don't think I'm going to lose this epic battle of wits.
Oh, right. Need to pick up some bleach from the store and a (sterile) syringe from the hospital too, as long as I'm out. Wouldn't want to disappoint Ryan. He so loves his temptations.
Regardless of how the dead bodies of humans and various animals can be used as sources of food for various other animals and parasites, corpses are still a hassle to move, especially when they stand (or, y'know, just lie there like heavy rag dolls) between you and non-perishable food. I should probably get some seeds too, in case this isn't all a joke. This town will look so much better with flowerbeds for sidewalks, and there'll be no shortage of fertilizer.
I wonder if I should publish my experiences, being the last man alive? And yes, I checked. I really am the last man with a pulse in this town. Somehow, Ryan managed to summon up his last bit of strength. Probably hurt like hell, but he seemed happy. The joke was probably his idea, too.
Walking around outside, and wading through dead ants and the occasional dead pet to do so, I found myself listening to the wind. It's funny. You don't notice the wind (or the moon, but that's another story) until you're absolutely alone, and confronting death every which way you turn – really, it's just another way to define the “winds of death.” They're supposed to bring death – as in, they're supposed to bring in Bubonic Plague and such – but y'know, I don't think they do. I think it's the other way around. I think death brought the winds. It's some kind of bachelorhood gift, like a pie from the neighbors or a check and sweater from the parents. Only this time, I'm not too busy to sit down and savor it.
My next-door neighbor had a kite. Had, because I've just borrowed it with absolutely no intention of returning it. I've never seen a dead man put up a fuss over a kite like that, though – had to wrench it from his “cold dead hands” (another good thing about being really alone is that, no one's around to call me on really bad clichés). He was a twin, too, named Juan. Guess his brother was named Amal, but I've never seen him. Don't need to: if I've seen Juan, I've seen Amal (same goes for really bad puns, and the dude's name was Lee). But now that I have a kite, I can finally have some fun.
Sitting on a hill, reading Harry Potter number 3 (first edition), munching on some cookies I removed from some Girl Scouts, all while flying a kite, a nice red-and-black kite. It's a good day, and it's a nice kite, but it's a bit depressing to lie on my back and watch it float about all alone.
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