Copyright 2017 by E.C. McMullen Jr.
Death: “RON? ALL RIGHT, SERIOUSLY RON, YOU NEED TO LISTEN TO ME, AND I THINK I SPEAK FOR DEATH WHEN I SAY THIS-”
Death: “WE REALLY SHOULD HAVE A BETTER WAY OF IDENTIFYING OURSELVES.”
Death: “I DON’T SEE WHY. I CAN’T EVER REMEMBER BEING IN THIS SITUATION BEFORE.”
Ron: “It would help me.”
Death: “OH HOW CAN IT POSSIBLY HELP YOU? I MEAN, LOOK AT YOU, YOU HAVE DEATH AT EVERY SHOULDER AND WE’RE NOT EVEN THE ONES YOU’RE AFRAID OF.”
Death: “I’M SLOW AND PAINFUL. TO YOUR RIGHT IS QUICK AND PAINLESS.”
Ron: “I’ll take quick and painless.”
Death: “IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY.”
Death: “RON, THE FACT THAT THE PRESENCE OF ACTUAL PHYSICAL DEATH NOT SCARING YOU AS MUCH AS INTRODUCING YOURSELF TO THAT WOMAN? HONESTLY. I MET YOUR PARENTS. THEY WEREN’T THAT BAD. THIS IS ALL YOUR INVENTION, IN YOUR HEAD.”
Ron: “What if she doesn’t like me? I’ve always been awkward around girls- Women I mean. I mean, aw hell.”
Death: “RON, YOU’RE THE LAST MAN ON EARTH. SHE’S THE LAST WOMAN. THINK MAN! WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY DO TO MAKE MATTERS ANY WORSE?”
Death: “BESIDES NOT GOING OVER THERE AND INTRODUCING YOURSELF.”
Ron: “I don’t know, guys. Maybe I need to think of a good opening line. One I can practice.”
Death: “DAMN IT, RON. THIS ISN’T WHAT DEATH DOES.”
Death: “WE’RE IN THE BACKGROUND. NEVER SEEN. WE AREN’T MATCH MAKERS.”
Death: “BUT WITHOUT LIFE THERE IS NO DEATH.”
Death: “YOU MUST PROCREATE.”
Ron: “What’s the point? So our kids will raise a family of inbreds?”
Death: “THAT’S REALLY NEITHER HERE NOR THERE TO US, RON.”
Death: “OH HO! THERE’LL BE SOME FREAKS AT FIRST, TO BE SURE. BUT AFTER A FEW GENERATIONS, IT ALL KIND OF SHAKES OUT.”
Death: “MOSTLY SHAKES OUT. THERE’S ALWAYS A FEW GENETIC ‘PROBLEM CHILD’ ABNORMALITIES THAT POP UP IN THE MIX.”
Death: “YEAH, YOU’LL STILL HAVE POLITICIANS.”
Death: “KHEEE!!! HEH! HEH! YOU KILL ME!”
Death: “HEH! HEH!”
Death: “BUT SERIOUSLY: WE DON’T CARE HOW SMART OR SICKLY HUMANS ARE.”
Death: “WE DON’T JUDGE.”
Death: “AND SINCE YOU’RE THE ONLY MAN STILL ALIVE, NEITHER WILL SHE. YOU PRETTY MUCH CAN’T GO WRONG.”
Death: “WELL, EXCEPT FOR THAT TIE. UGH! THAT TIE!”
Death: “YOU JUST TOLD HIM WE DON’T JUDGE.”
Death: “… AH… I’M COMPLEX.”
Death: “HEY! SHH! SHUT UP!!!”
Ron: “You’re both driving me crazy!”
Death: “SHE HEARD YOU, YOU FREAK! YOU WANT HER TO THINK THE LAST MAN IS SOME RAVING MANIAC?”
Ron: “This is delusion! I’m not talking to death or deaths! I’m losing my mind! You’re not real! None of this is-!”
Slow And Painful Death suddenly pushes Ron’s head into the wall.
Ron: “OW! Shit!”
Death: “THERE. THAT WILL EXPLAIN YOUR NOISE. TELL HER THE BUMP IS BECAUSE YOU HURT YOUR HEAD.”
Ron: “You Did hurt my head! Damn! I’m bleeding.”
Death: “NO, ‘YOU HURT YOUR HEAD’. NOW GET OVER THERE AND MAKE WITH THE SMOOTH TALK.”
Death to the Left pushes Ron out into the light. The woman sees him stumble toward her.
Death: “GOOD THINKING. REASON DIDN’T WORK WITH THAT GUY.”
Death: “BULL BY THE HORNS AND ALL. WELL, THAT’S THAT. THE DOMINOES ARE FALLING AS THEY USED TO SAY.”
Ron (to woman): “Uh, hi, m’am.”
Woman: “M’am? Tch! The name is Tracy. Do you know you’re bleeding? Quite a bump.”
Ron wipes some of the blood away with his palm. Looks at his bloody hand and wipes it on his pants. Tracy watches all of this, judging.
Ron: “Yes, uh… I bumped my head.”
Ron: “I… I’m Ron.”
Tracy (sarcastically): “I asked?”
Unsure, Ron looks back to the two deaths in the shadows. They throw up their bony arms in disbelief.
Death (whispering): “Oh! Don’t Draw Attention To Us, You Ass!”
Tracy: “What are you looking at? You have friends back there?”
Ron: “What? Oh no. No. I’m the last man on earth.”
Tracy pulls a cigarette out of her purse. Ron fumbles in his pockets, looking for matches or a lighter, though he knows he has neither. Tracy wags a finger at him, a lighter in her palm, and deftly lights her cigarette.
Tracy: “Last man on earth, huh? God must hate me.”
Slow on the uptake, Ron chooses to laugh, cautiously. The two Deaths, standing in the dark, cannot believe what they’re hearing.
Tracy: “So tell me, am I the last woman on earth?”
Ron: “Yes. We’re the only ones left.”
Tracy: “Uh huh. And just how do you know this?”
Ron: “Death told me.”
The cigarette nearly drops from Tracy’s mouth. The two deaths face palm.
Death: “Oh For The Love Of -!”
Death: “Can You Believe This?”
Tracy takes the cigarette from her mouth, swats away an errant bug attracted to the flame.
Tracy: “Death told you.”
Ron: “Both of them.”
Tracy: “Really. Well, I’ll tell you what.”
Tracy draws a pistol from her purse.
Tracy: “You scurry right back over there to your shadows and I’ll leave you to this filthy dump. I catch you following me and I’ll pop one of these lead berries right into that bleeding bubble on your bean. Got that?”
Ron nods nervously, backing up and staring in terror at the gun barrel.
Death: “WELL, WE HAD A GOOD RUN. AT LEAST WE’RE STILL THE DEATH OF THE LOWER LIFE FORMS.”
Death: “THOSE TWO ARE THE LOWEST LIFE FORMS. CAN WE BREAK WITH TRADITION FOR ONCE AND JUST PUT THEM OUT OF THEIR MISERY? NOW?”
Death: “ONLY IF I GET RON.”
Death: “Damn! UH… ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS?”
Death: “YEAH, SURE.”
Story by E.C. McMullen Jr.
Who did my blog art? I’ve no idea. All the meme generators seem to carry it, but even if it’s in the Public Domain, I’d at least like to credit the artist. Does anyone know?
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