Apocolypsico Later by BrentlyMD March 18th 2020 4:20pm Part 1: “the End”

Apocolypsico Later by BrentlyMD March 18th 2020 4:20pm 

Part 1: “the End”

“All the surge protectors blew.  If it weren’t fer them, all It’a’been fried. “  He said, saidingly.  He followed the wires.  He knew them by color, but all the blues, greens, and reds were nearly black, and the blacks were, well, blacker than black.  Only the yellows and oranges peeked through with glints of whimpering hue against the dim beam of his last working headlamp.  Whatever had flowed through these wires wasn’t just electricity.  “It was full on ultramega-radiations.” He thunk, thunkingly.  He scratched his natty hairs.  What he’d give for another hand to comb out his gnarls.  Scrape his scalp, and pick out the gnyts.   To have water to bathe with.  He’d take a sip, let it linger on his tongue, swish it till his cheeks ached, and swallow as slowly as he could without making himself choke.  He’d done that too many times.  Taken too long to swallow, and held his breath too long, and then that tiny trinkle trinkles into his lung ways and —> Bah’HA’Kqchoooof’UuuuH! He’d spit it out with a cough.  Wasting that precious swallow, as he gasped and coughed and weeeazeled in an angony’fic ca’cough’ony of diaphragmatic spasms lasting beyond time until there he was, with his precious sip all splashed spittled every where, and he sucking in, blowing out, the dry dusty airs he was trying to save himself from.  And now the electricity.  The wires.  The lights.  His precious Rosalina, all dead.  More alone than a man before this time and space of electric salvation has ever been,  he wondered wonderingly.

His omni-present genius zipped his mind’s eyes back to when he’d had everything.  He was a tenured professor of Physics and Biology at Quynnton University in Hollinland, QZ.  He had 3 laboratories, a full mechanical workshop, and even his own theatre to present his latest inventions and discoveries.  Despite all this, he’d never lost the roots of his earthen rich childhood.  He always thought that language should be spoken in the most lingual of tones.  To meet him in his worn work torn tweed coat, hunter’s vest, and waxed denim over alls, you’d never know the light that shine in his being.  Unless he let you really look him in the eye.  Then you saw the brilliant sun that shown there.  Throughout his life he would meet the ignorance of those who saw his complexion, his gnatty gnarly hairs beaten into a bun, his beard which every hair seemed a different color and texture and had it’s own unique direction to which it fled from his face at an incredible rate to which he’d long ago given up any hope of shaving or controlling.  And after decades of barreling through the ignorance that would dismiss him the moment anyone met him until he thrust forward his brilliance in a blade of pure understanding… and thusly was reluctantly given respect.  For genius is only recognized when the ignorant are bitch slapped into perceiving it.  

And then the pandemic came.  And the hording.  And the conclaves of “reservations” and concentration camps.  And he’d fled.  To here.  This abandoned High School that had collapsed, and he found a room.  The Science Room, in the middle of fallen beams and cinderblock walls all leaning in toward it in the center of this old sandstone building, like arrows, leading him to the one room that was saved, and had everything he needed.  Until now…

Apocolypsico Later by BrentlyMD March 18th 2020 4:20pm 

Part 2: “the End of the Beginning”

COMING SOON!