The End

When everything to bits is blown and all remained of us are brainless bits of bone, I wonder who will see our species fall, all snapping selfies on our Android phones. He’ll have to be E.T., most certainly, to have survived a fool’s apocalypse. And if I’m right, he’ll use telepathy instead of flapping gums and smacking lips to share with folks back home our final tale: The town will gather ‘round our foreign friend, his star-boiled gils resembling flaky shale, and all will think as one, until the end, and then together shake their slimy heads, distraught to learn our parents slept in separate beds. *Proudly written on my phone while waiting at TGIF for a haircut :)