Apocalypse Soonish

Read previous entries:
Day 1
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4

41

Day 5

Dear Journal,

I run from the mouth of the den of the mad apes and into the pure, sweet dawn. I believe it is the morning of the fifth day since I awoke, but time lost nearly all meaning in those depths.

I have run far enough to risk a break, and finally look at the object Friend gave me at our parting. It is the “V” badge which I traded her! She must have wanted me to keep it as a momento.

My thoughts are cut short, however, by a voice —

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Calling for help.

“Ehhh. Umm. Excuse me.”

I look around for the speaker but find none.

“Ah, yes. Down here, you see.""

I look down and see to my astonishment —

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A gummi bear. A large (cat-sized) green gummi bear. It is laying on its back, looking at me with a somewhat melancholy expression.

“Ah, mmm. Hello. Yes. Quite. Hello. Err … could you … that is to say … might you … could you be so kind as to, well, ehhh —“

“Yes?” I say, a bit impatiently. I have possums to avenge and Georgia Reds to seek. Unfortunately my obvious impatience only seems to have flustered the bear further. It remained on its back, stammering.

“Quite sorry, quite sorry. Of course, ahem, I hate to, well, put you out, or … err … as who should say — trouble you — but, oh never mind it’s probably quite a chore…”

“What do you want??”

“Could you … mmm … pick me up?”

“Pick you up?""

““Yes. I seem to be stuck. On my back””

“Of course.” I reach down to pick up the stuck gummi but a thought strikes me and I stop —

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“I’ll do it,” I say, “if you tell me where I can find Georgia Red.”

“Ah! Ohh my. No. Hmm, no. I’m afraid, well, I don’t know who that is.”

“That’s a shame. Good luck!” I say, walking away.

“Well, hmmph, if that isn’t the — well — WAIT!”

I wheel. “You know where I can find Georgia Red?”

“Yes. Well, uh, I suppose that — yes.”

I peel the chubby confection off the ground and prop it on its feet.

“Take me to her.”

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I follow the waddling gummi bear through the scorched wastes, keeping an eye cocked for any attempts to flee. Funny how quickly the prisoner has become the captor.

We arrive at a burned-out home with a makeshift tin roof.

“Ah, yes. Well, here we are. And, now, if you please, umm, LIGHTS!”

At this a series of lightbulbs turn on.

“MUSIC!” the bear yells to seemingly nobody in particular, yet soft jazz begins to play. The gummi bear turns a shade greener at my surprise — blushing perhaps. “I was a bit of a — how to say? — smarthome, errr, junkie. Still am, when I can get the parts.”

“This is your home?” I ask, annoyed.

“Well. I suppose that you could say, in a manner of speaking — yes.”

“But you told me you were taking me to Georgia Red!”

The bear sits and crosses its front paws.

“Yes, mm, I suppose I, well, I suppose —""

And what it says next nearly topples me over.