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.” 

“What?” 

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

“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. 

[i]Don’t say yes, don’t say yes, don’t fall for his sexy British charms.[/i] 

“Okay, fine!” [i]Goddammit![/i] 

“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.” 
[hr]
I almost felt bad about crushing him. But hey, I made a sick RGB ribcage out of him.