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The Last Man on Earth
The last man on earth sat in a red velvet armchair reading Shakespeare’s collected works. As he thumbed through Titus Andronicus for the umpteenth time, there came a knock at the door. He calmly sat his book down and removed his glasses.
Who is it?” he called.
There was no reply. He waited a moment, then settled his glasses back on his rather bulbous nose and resumed his reading. He had just reached his favourite bit wherein Titus’ wife has her tongue cut out, and her hands lopped off. Little gave him more joy than to imagine these tasty events as they unfolded deliciously in his mind.
Again there came a knock at his door, louder this, time more persistent. “‘Tis some visitor’“, he quoted under his breath. Again he carefully laid aside his book and spectacles and quietly inquired, “Who is there?’”
He was greeted only by silence. He decided he needed lighter fair for his reading pleasure as he replaced his glasses. He flipped to the last few chapters of his beloved Romeo and Juliet. As he read of the fair Juliet plunging a dagger into her breast, he imagined the blood spurting from her still beating heart, painting the walls a grisly shade of death. He smiled.
He had enjoyed his life prior to the incident. He enjoyed being a scientist. The thrill of discovery, the challenge, the lure. The pursuit of pure rational truth. The pursuit of perfection. It was all within his grasp, and now it was gone. He was the last man on earth. No more work, no more experiments, life. No point. There was time though, time enough...not that it mattered since the incident. None of his colleagues were left anywhere.
For a third time the knock came. This time it was unrelenting. Pounding. Wearily he stood, and shuffled to the door. He shuddered at the thought of what lay behind it. Just as he began to reach for the handle; like a rusty piece of corrugated tin, a high shrieking voice cut through his skull. “Josef, open the damn door. I’ll never understand why you keep it locked”.
With a sigh the last man on earth twisted the faceted glass knob and opened the door. Josef Mengele looked out in horror. The hall was full of women.
“It’s time.” They said.
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just some piece of nonsense
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Timothy O. Goyette