genocide is cruel… suicide, every body!
a shorty-short-story about the apocalyptic consequences of ignorance and conscious denial – welcome to the end . . .
another morning earth kept turning, a new world-president woke up and recovered from his slimy dreams, while the rest of the world was going to work, paying their taxes, or simply surviving on the surface on a tiny piece of universe overpopulated with wieners and other sausages.
if you haven’t guessed yet: it’s the end of the world and it was to be witnessed during a bbq-party in the backyard of a mushroom house (uniform suburb house) located at the outskirts of Hamilton, Ontario. the overheating grill metaphorically in perfect balance with a bunch of so-called ‘mature’, lamenting over gluten-meat-and-dairy-free diets, the ‘refugee-situation’ in Europe and hot yoga; the real estate market encourages buying and Donald Trump will take care of the Mexican-american version of modern slavery.
the party society turned frustrated about their very own existence, so they kept focusing on brat (short for bratwurst) and steak.
a substantial error in all dialogue ever held in mankind fused together to a contagious fallacy and the question why the idiocracy people lived in had ever been called ‘civilization’ for so long.
human beings known as ‘children’ below the age of 6 (un)fortunately missed the entire worst case scenario. they lived through the massive extinction of everybody else, simply because didn’t pay attention to it, while playing outside.
just one girl – somewhere south where the butter melts – turned her head towards the Northern hemisphere, having the odd feeling that she had just heard a fart followed by a tiny blow of stinky air irritating her sensitive nostrils. the dog next to her took the interruption of the play as an insult and chased her happily down the road – the girl forgot about the fart and earth about the adult.View other posts by Muli Muli