Rated M: Drugs, adult material, romance, violence, gore, swearing, and other gnarly stuff. Absurd Satire and Twisted Humor
The End is Nigh
Seattle, Washington,Schlachter Home
2:30 pm, February 12th, 2014
Seattle, was not the same place any more. The streets seemed dizzyingly empty or crowded because of the looting of all the sinners not taken by the rapture. The sky had turned a hue of fiery orange, as a spinning sky tornado vortex, whirled above all the buildings and all the homes. Spitting out whatever impossible possible possibility it could out of it. There were no soldiers or super heroes to count on to save this dying world. That eventually would be stuck in the void.
That is if people put their faith in a gathering occurring. Three months ago, everyone was living a normal life. Going to work and being pleasantly unpleasant to each other because of all the different beliefs boiling into a tipping point. Emerging from this wreckage, was the supertrash of this world.
They were called the Social Justice Warriors and they were something beyond that. They weren’t super heroes, nor were they soldiers. Simply philosophical slackers, who just ended up having the powers that might just save the world.
While some claim the universe doesn’t choose, decide fate, or decide a destiny. The simple fact was, why did the universe put faith in these washed out, recycled hazbins. Some would claim there was no answer. Others would claim it was some kind of divine intervention. Some divine will. Perhaps God’s Will. Perhaps the Universe’s will.
Not really would some say.
The relationship between the SJW had fragile tension. To be honest the individuals had only met ever twice in their lives. And this would be the first, very important meeting of the group.
The Schlachter home was small, and gray. It seemed the right size for the group of people coming over to visit. The smell of oatmeal cookies was mixing with the smell of heavy tobacco smoke, and the smell of the outside for the windows were open. The fiery vortex left a lingering fiery, BBQ smell in the air. The Schlachter family wasn’t really sure how to prepare for the first important meeting of their group. They only met the others, what like a month ago?
The SJW were some kind of interesting group of individuals. You had some dude with big glasses, that gave him big eyes, but he was extremely, almost unnecessarily ripped. He was a joke of a human being if you asked anyone who met this extreme caricature. Artair would have said an individual like that would be impossible to actually exist. Yet, that very individual was coming to their house.
Then you had this uptight feminist bitch, with her pussy whipped boyfriend. Hard to explain how she both had the look of a typical feminazi with class. And her boyfriend was just stubborn as ever, skeptical to every word they spoke. He liked shutting down the ideas of other people and stealing their words.
Than there was Mable and him. The typical, typical. Average couple, with broken past. Artair lit another smoke, while listening for the door. There was a sign out in front, written in whatever crayola marker colors they had left: Welcome Come Inside, Door is Unlocked.
“Don’t smoke down your whole pack,” Mable’s voice could be heard in the kitchen.
She was having a great difficulty with the oven. Her oatmeal cookies smelled delicious, though she was afraid she might have made too much. Looking out the window, she saw the group gathering outside, coming towards their door.
She didn’t know what to make of them. She heard Artair cough, but she didn’t mention anything.
“They are here, be on your best behavior,” she was of course speaking to the cats. Waiting for the door to open.
As it did the pouring of the strange, wonderful, and weird walked into their home. Mable gleefully, cheerfully greeted everyone. Except, they only ever met one time, and she was not very good with names. Stumbling in her brain, she tripped over the first she was pretty sure, “D-” she mumbled, hopefully just announcing D would allow her to appropriately and socially slide under the radar on this one.
“Anna,” she got that one because the last impression she got on Anna was impressionably, negative, that the name imprinted on her. It said stay away from this bitch.
“And...I got it….Ne..Nate,” Mable flubbed, she knew it because he raised an eyebrow. A skeptical one at that.
“Neal,” Neal corrected her.
Artair on the other hand simply watched as the strangers grouped into their home. He didn’t bother to remember their names. Just because at the time it didn’t seem like an important skill set to do so. He inhaled and then exhaled his cigarette chemical cocktail.
“Have a seat, we kicked the cats off the couch for today,” Artair said, “As long as you don’t mind your ass cheeks getting all types of cat hair stuck to them.”
Artair cleared his throat one more time. His throat was coated in the dry deserts of nicotine. He looked at Mable.
“I made cookies,” Mable said excitedly, “I’ll go ahead and make some tea too. Does that sound all right with everybody?”
“Sounds good,” Artair told Mable, as she ducked into the kitchen, there was an oppositional glare from Anna, “So, welcome to our home. This is the first essential meeting of the Social Justice Warriors. So there’s no arguments I took position of being the leader. No complaints. This isn’t a democracy in my house. I hosted the meeting here. I am the leader, since none of yous offered your house. Or your oatmeal cookies.”
It wasn’t a democracy in his house, but he wasn’t a republican either. He just wanted to rush this meeting on over. Because if there was one thing that got boring quickly. Was a meeting that went on for way longer than it should.
Sitting in his recliner, he was staring at these sorry asses for even showing up. If they had been smart, they would have not shown up like the others. How did he, the man who believed there was no master plan, end up organizing the meeting to save the world?
The End is Nigh - IC [M]
Bookmarks