Incense of an Endling - an ENDLING story for Whimword, 27th October 2017
2348 BC (1,656 years after the world began and 35,000,000 years after the evolution of the giant ground sloth).
Meredith sat in her stall, silently surveying the hulking body of her mate.
"Oh dear," said Shem, poking his nose through the wooden slats in the door, "I'm so sorry..."
"Just get the Boss, Shem," said Mez.
"Of course," he muttered, and scurried off, head bowed.
Looking at the spot where Shem's feet had been, Mez saw Val the Komodo out for a morning walk, a bevy of youngsters in tow. Evidently the monitor had played fast and loose with the 'no boning' rule.
"Been having fun?" said Mez. The mighty lizard grinned, toxic saliva trailing from its maw.
"Mez! How's tricks?"
"You know we've limited resources on this boat?" said Mez, "That's why we're not allowed to shag till dry land?"
"Oh I haven't," said Val coolly, "parthenogenesis, hun."
"Come again?" said Mez.
"Virgin birth," explained Val, "all the coolest species are doing it. Humans'll be getting in on it next."
She paused, noticing the inanimate mass of brown fur with which Mez now shared her quarters.
"Oh," she said with half-hearted commiseration, "maybe you should give it a go too, in the circumstances...?"
She plodded on, wearing an expression of barely disguised smugness. Mez waited till she was out of sight.
"Bitch," she murmured.
"Morning, Mez," intoned a dolorous bass. A bushy white beard signalled the arrival of the Boss, closely followed by Shem.
"Morning," said Mez curtly.
"Dear me, this is a great shame."
"Yes it is."
"I'm ever so sorry."
"Yep, me too."
"If there's anything I can...?"
"Find me a mate who isn't dead?"
"I'm afraid..."
"Go back in time and build a boat big enough for *four* of every animal? So we'd have spares in case one of us snuffed it, like I said from the beginning would be a pretty neat idea, to avoid dooming a whole pissing species to oblivion by accident? Or maybe, better yet, have a word with the Big Man before he even STARTS with the ark shit, tell him not to be such a hysterical ninny and maybe, y'know, hold off on FLOODING THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD? LIKE A SANCTIMONIOUS PRICK?"
"Er, 'prig'," said Shem, sheepishly.
"No, 'PRICK'," said Mez, firmly.
Shem and his father exchanged looks, and sloped away meekly. When she was sure she was alone, Mez got to her feet and, trailing hay behind her, shuffled over to her prone lover, stroking his back with a shovel-like paw.
"Well, I guess that's that," she muttered.
She glanced over to the porthole. Craning her head to see the surf splashing against the wooden belly of her species' final resting place, she was greeted by the sight of two dolphins in coitus.
"Boss?" she called.
"Yes?" he replied warily.
"You have a direct line to the Big Man, don't you?"
"I do." Yet more worried.
"Would you deliver a message?"
"Of course. What would-"
"FUUUUUUCK. YOOOOOOU."
The Endling
Meredith sat in her stall, silently surveying the hulking body of her mate.
"Oh dear," said Shem, poking his nose through the wooden slats in the door, "I'm so sorry..."
"Just get the Boss, Shem," said Mez.
"Of course," he muttered, and scurried off, head bowed.
Looking at the spot where Shem's feet had been, Mez saw Val the Komodo out for a morning walk, a bevy of youngsters in tow. Evidently the monitor had played fast and loose with the 'no boning' rule.
"Been having fun?" said Mez. The mighty lizard grinned, toxic saliva trailing from its maw.
"Mez! How's tricks?"
"You know we've limited resources on this boat?" said Mez, "That's why we're not allowed to shag till dry land?"
"Oh I haven't," said Val coolly, "parthenogenesis, hun."
"Come again?" said Mez.
"Virgin birth," explained Val, "all the coolest species are doing it. Humans'll be getting in on it next."
She paused, noticing the inanimate mass of brown fur with which Mez now shared her quarters.
"Oh," she said with half-hearted commiseration, "maybe you should give it a go too, in the circumstances...?"
She plodded on, wearing an expression of barely disguised smugness. Mez waited till she was out of sight.
"Bitch," she murmured.
"Morning, Mez," intoned a dolorous bass. A bushy white beard signalled the arrival of the Boss, closely followed by Shem.
"Morning," said Mez curtly.
"Dear me, this is a great shame."
"Yes it is."
"I'm ever so sorry."
"Yep, me too."
"If there's anything I can...?"
"Find me a mate who isn't dead?"
"I'm afraid..."
"Go back in time and build a boat big enough for *four* of every animal? So we'd have spares in case one of us snuffed it, like I said from the beginning would be a pretty neat idea, to avoid dooming a whole pissing species to oblivion by accident? Or maybe, better yet, have a word with the Big Man before he even STARTS with the ark shit, tell him not to be such a hysterical ninny and maybe, y'know, hold off on FLOODING THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD? LIKE A SANCTIMONIOUS PRICK?"
"Er, 'prig'," said Shem, sheepishly.
"No, 'PRICK'," said Mez, firmly.
Shem and his father exchanged looks, and sloped away meekly. When she was sure she was alone, Mez got to her feet and, trailing hay behind her, shuffled over to her prone lover, stroking his back with a shovel-like paw.
"Well, I guess that's that," she muttered.
She glanced over to the porthole. Craning her head to see the surf splashing against the wooden belly of her species' final resting place, she was greeted by the sight of two dolphins in coitus.
"Boss?" she called.
"Yes?" he replied warily.
"You have a direct line to the Big Man, don't you?"
"I do." Yet more worried.
"Would you deliver a message?"
"Of course. What would-"
"FUUUUUUCK. YOOOOOOU."
The Endling
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