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To Those at the End · Original Minific ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 400–750
Show rules for this event
Post-Nuclear Feminism
I don’t want to cave this dude’s head in. There are at least five other things I’d prefer to do with my day besides crush a man’s skull with a heavy rock. But life comes with many responsibilities. Brush your teeth, put on your makeup, and smash intruders’ heads in with rocks before they encroach on your territory. In the days before the apocalypse, we called this “the daily grind.”

I didn’t like my job then, and I don’t like it now. But what else is a girl supposed to do? Join the local patriarchal pseudo-society of leather and motorbike enthusiasts and be forced to shit out babies to “replenish the human race” or something? Be taken as a slave by a roving group of bandits?

Nah, I’ll stick with squashing brains. Society might have changed after the bombs dropped, but not so much that it hasn’t dispensed with institutional sexism. Now it’s just a little more direct and smidgen more rapey than before. But not much has really changed, except that it’s totally socially acceptable to shoot a guy who catcalls you. Honestly, kind of an improvement over the old ways, if I do say so myself.

One might find a former high school art teacher engaging in wanton acts of violence a bit morally questionable, but I say when in Rome, do as the Romans do. If those Romans happen to kill anyone on sight, might as well act like the Romans. Nobody got any less raped by being polite to your local marauder. Hate the game, not player.

Plus, I’m making a positive difference in the perception of women ‘s role in society, one shattered cranium at a time. After all, men aren’t the only ones who can kill and maim. I’m even working on an absolutely adorable collection of mangled bones and body parts to arrange on pikes around my base’s perimeter to let the nearby warlords know I mean business. I bleached the bones and everything. All I need is one more rib cage, and it’ll be complete. Another masterwork for Jenny.

But anyways, the dude. He’s trapped in a pit. Some might even call it a pit trap. The vaginal symbology is an intended component of the piece; it’s supposed to be ironic or something. At least that’s what I tell myself as I ready my skull-crushing rock.

“Help! Can anyone hear me? I’ve fallen in a pit! Or maybe a trap! Or perhaps, even a pit trap!” he calls out in a vulnerable yet strangely suave British accent.

British accents are rare around these parts. Killing a Brit would be like slaughtering an endangered species. But I still need that rib cage. Quite a moral conundrum. Instead of crushing him with the giant rock like I intended, I peer over the side of my pit trap, just to get a good luck at him to sate my curiosity.

Fuck. He was totally hot, like the sort of dude you read about in trashy romance novels. Cobalt eyes, shredded bod, flowing blonde hair, and a pristine apocalyptic chic. Everything you could want.

“Hey!” he yells at me. “What the bleeding hell are you doing?!”

“Oh nothing . . .” I blush, twirling my hair in my hands. “I was just, uh, gonna crush you with this rock.”


Oh goddammit I’m oversharing again. This is just like prom all over again. Get it together, girl!

“Yeah, this is my trap, and you’re on my turf, buddy! Intruders get the rock!”

“Wait wait! Can’t we talk about this?” he pleads with me.

Don’t say yes, don’t say yes, don’t fall for his sexy British charms.

“Okay, fine!” Goddammit!

“So, my name’s Nigel, by the way. Just so you know that I have a name before you kill me.”

“I’m Jenny, and guilt tripping is not going to work. I need your rib cage.”

“Ah, just like Eve needed Adam's ribs?”

“Nothing quite so high-minded. I just want to make a corpse fence,” I say.

“Impressive! You’re looking to be a warlord? I like a woman with ambition,” he says provocatively. “Maybe I can be your Prince Albert instead?”

Shit, he was historically literate too. A goddamn perfect man.

“Maybe,” I tease back. “Tell me a little bit about yourself. What did you do before the bombs dropped?”

“I was a professional video game streamer.”

I almost felt bad about crushing him. But hey, I made a sick RGB ribcage out of him.
« Prev   9   Next »
#1 ·
It's for the best, really. You don't want those genes to replicate. Fascinating trip down the post-nuclear path.
#2 ·
I love how this sets up its zanny, irreverent tone immediately with the first sentence. I also ended up reading all of Nigel's lines in Stephen Merchant's voice in my head, so thank you genuinely for that. I'm also not usually one to particularly like internal monologue, but I have to say that Jenny's little rambling asides to herself were definitely the best part of this.

Now, I'm not particularly sure why, but while this piece as a whole was definitely amusing, it didn't quite cross the line to humorous to me. It might be that there's not very many punchline-style jokes outside of the really silly one at the end. So while I definitely felt the atmosphere of humor throughout this piece, it didn't really ever coalesce into distinct moments of comedy for me.

As I always say, I don't consider myself a very good judge of humor, so I'll be interested in seeing what others have to say. But I am pretty sure that regardless, this one is quite a bit of fun.

Thanks for entering!
#3 ·
Deliciously irreverent! I'll echo Bachiavellian's sentiment and say there wasn't really any single gut-busting punchline for me, but the piece as a whole radiated humor, which in my opinion makes for a more engaging read. I really dig it. Thanks for sharing!
#4 ·
This goes right to the top of my slate if only by virtue of placing British accents on the pinnacle.

Whoever you are, I love you. Here, share my Covid. Smooch

That being said, I’m not sure I get the end. Is that a feghoot? It’s quite deftly written. Definitely a headbreaking story.
#5 ·
In which we violently discuss topic of social structures minus a real society.

This seems like a very goofy piece going for a crass flavor. It's interesting how the political commentary just drops off about halfway through. Makes sense though: in a post-nuclear world like this, people might put less merit in delineating details about social structures and so on when it's easy to just go savage. Still, the commentary does well in setting up and coloring Jenny's encounter with Nigel.

Don't have much else to say; comedy isn't much of a strong suit for me, but from what I can tell, this is interestingly good.

Overall, a nice dose of humor. Should at least be in the middle of the pack though I would be surprised to see it get a medal.
#6 ·
A punchy, comedic piece with some commentary about modern society in a not so modern setting. Nice. I like the choices you made regarding language and character development and how this one doesn't show any restraint when it comes to comedy. Don't really have much else to say. Nice job.
#7 ·
I feel so conflicted right now.

Something I liked:

Thank God, a comedy entry that is actually funny. Yes, the moment the Brit said the line about the pit trap, I was won back into this entry's arms once again. Until I wasn't, but I'll explain that in a moment. Anyway, this entry, it has more than one jokes, and most of the jokes make sense. Yes, in the wake of the great COVID-19 disaster of 2020, society around the world has finally collapsed, just as those maniacs on Twitter said it would. Now we have about as much rape and murder as before, but at least we've defeated capitalism. We finally did it, fellas. Now all we need is clean toilet paper and indoor plumbing.

Something I didn't like:

Some very questionable storytelling choices. The very start and end of this thing do not hold up. The story proper doesn't actually start until six paragraphs in. Yes, you heard it here, folks, the actual story of a flashfic doesn't start until about a third of the way in. How incompetent do you have to be to let this happen? Not to mention the very weird rape jokes that don't feel quite like jokes if I'm being honest. And I thought we were doing so well. The very last line is also a bummer, really deflates my metaphorical erection for this story after the zinger that is the penultimate line. Not only does it feel superfluous, I'm not even entirely sure of what it's supposed to mean. What the hell is an RGB rib cage? And "rib cage" is two words, you hack.

Verdict: Was at the top of my slate, but now I'm not so sure. I think I prefer "Snail Mail Delivery."