Only three things are going to survive a nuclear war: cockroaches,
Twinkies, and Keith Richards. Keith is gonna come strolling out with
his guitar slung on his back. <in British accent> "I saw a bright light.
I thought we was on!"
-- unknown comedian, "Just for Laughs" comedy festival, late 80s
[Spengler picks up a Hostess Twinkie from the workbench.]
SPENGLER: Well, let's say this Twinkie represents the normal amount of
psychokinetic energy in the New York area. According to this
morning's PKE sample, the current level in the city would be a
Twinkie 35 feet long weighing approximately six hundred
pounds.
WINSTON: That's a big Twinkie.
-- "Ghostbusters," written by Harold Ramis and Dan Aykroyd
==========
There is always a first moment; this was that first moment, when it was
first self-aware, when it first knew life. It found itself in a cocoon
of sorts, lying on its side in the floor of some sort of building, large
with rows of foodstuffs and tile on the floor, dark except for the glow
from the flames of the city burning outside the frames of what used to
be large tempered-glass windows at the front of the building.
It wriggled about and with a rustle and pop, it struggled free of that
sheath that surrounded it and observed as many of its brothers and
sisters did the same. It knew nothing other than the fact that it was
alive. It began to move itself slowly along the floor, toward the
strange orange glow. It was aware of movement for a long time, and its
progress along the linoleum was slow.
It suddenly stopped and quivered, as if sensing the air. It then seemed
to make a decision and moved again toward the orange glow coming from
the front of the building.
As it moved forward, a pocket-sized poodle entered the building,
sniffing the air. The dog padded through the store, up and down several
aisles, sniffing at various items on the shelves and on the floor. The
dog turned up the aisle where it lay still.
It waited as the dog came and sniffed and licked it. The dog began to
nose at it, rolling it over on its back. As the dog attempted to lick
the bottom of it, it compressed, spraying white creamy foam into the
face of the dog. The dog did not even have a chance to yip before
falling over, dead, head dissolving.
It moved into the pool of dissolved flesh and bone, spongy body
absorbing the semi-fluid. It grew in size as it soaked up the viscous
mess.
And suddenly it knew what was outside the building and knew the dog's
name was Fluffy.
And Gregor Mendel and James A. Dewar spun in their graves.
-----
Keith Richards came wandering out of his London flat, cigarette hanging
from his lips, beer bottle in hand, guitar strapped to his back,
oblivious to
the destruction around him as the city burned to the ground.
"Hey, where is everybody? Where's the stage? I saw a bright light. I
don't remember there being a concert today."
An eight-and-one-half foot long cockroach jumped out of the shadows and
bit Keith's head clean off, swallowing it whole.
Keith's body dropped to the ground and crumbled into dust.
The cockroach stood there for a bit, savoring the flavor of human flesh
and bone before suddenly staggering to one side and rolling over on its
back, antennae and legs thrashing in the air. It laid there, kicking,
for five minutes or so, before other cockroaches descended upon its
prone form and ripped it apart, feeding on its flesh. They in turn
ended up on their backs until others came.
Thus was London purged of cockroaches.
This message has been edited by t.ogre from IP address 143.166.83.134 on Mar 14, 2003 9:51 AM
Posted on Mar 14, 2003, 9:33 AM from IP address 143.166.83.134