Everything is Kaput!
I waited for someone to pick up the receiver on the surface. Down here in the underground bunker we were isolated, but under normal circumstances there should have been a guard or the commander standing by the phone up top at all times. Obviously these weren't normal circumstances.
After a couple minutes I was rewarded with the sound of something clunking on the ground. When I heard a donkey try to bray through the other side I figured it must be one of the guardsmen that had been stationed up top.
"Can you speak?" I asked, doubting it if the news reports were to believed. Neither me nor Lang had worked up the guts to go to the surface to check yet. We weren't even supposed to leave our bunker for anything, just wait for an order to come down the chain of command. Only problem with that was that we weren't sure if there was anyone left in a position to give us the order anymore. I got an angry sounding bray for my troubles.
"Ohhkay. Here's what were going to try instead. Bray once for yes, twice for no." I thought up a quick list to confirm identity. "Are you a Cougar?" Two brays. "Are you a Donkey?" One. "Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?" One. "At basic training were you taught how to fire a rifle?" Two brays? I thought it over for a second. "Are you Miss Ivanchuck?" One. "Is your job to assist Captain Reinglad with his administrative duties?" One. "Last Sunday when I asked you out did I suggest a movie?" Two brays. "Go Lakers?" One bray. "When you were still human did I ever tell you that you had the biggest, most luscious pair of breasts?" A pause and then two very angry sounding bray's. I grinned, oh yeah it's her. "Good to hear from you Ma'am. I've got some questions about the situation on the surface, can you get ahold of the Captain?"
Luckily for us me and Lang were old pro's at amusing ourselves without the benefit of any sort of mass media entertainment. We actually kept each other occupied for almost two straight days just by singing along to the cheesy pop songs on my iPod.
There's only so many Brittney Spears songs you can sing though before you start to ponder suicide. We weren't exactly provided cyanide pills or pistols down here, I could just imagine some military psychologists sitting in a room somewhere debating on whether they should provide us with something like that in case we survived the end of the world. But there were ways we could end it.
We made a game out of that too. Seeing who could find the most amusingly stupid way for us to kill ourselves first. Lang suggested jumping off a chair and onto our heads to kill ourselves, I one upped him though with the idea of death by drinking all the water we could handle without relieving ourselves until something broke inside. But It was Lang for the win the next day with his hang ourselves by our schlongs idea. Not really practical but it gave me a good laugh when he faked confusion about why it wouldn't work.
We chatted on the phone with the Captain and Miss Ivanchuck off and on. And because they couldn't hang the phone up you could still hear what was going on up there in the breif respites between me and Lang telling each other jokes about nuclear holocausts. Sounded like they were getting along pretty well. I bet she wanted it in the same room as the phone just to taunt me.
We reenacted star wars once. I guess I should say I reenacted star wars once actually. Lang just sat on on his chair and threw food at me, telling me to stop reenacting the crappy prequels and do the original trilogy. I ignored him completly. I think I disgusted him with how well I remembered those movies because he didn't applaud when I finished that last scene with Vader shouting out his anguish over Padme's death. We later picked the food he'd thrown at me off the floor and dusted it off to eat later, then cleaned the place spick and span.
I don't know if it was commie's or aliens or the digital fruit of some computer geeks digital loins that did this to the world but someone tried to contact us a week after we lost touch with our chain of command. They failed the authorization check though so we ignored them and went back to our game of 'Name that STD'.
Whoever had tried to contact us failed four more subsequent authorization checks over the next couple weeks and eventually gave up trying to convince us he was a member of our COC after a few hours of us singing Britney spears songs on the line.
But all things must come to an end as eventually we ran out of food. After contemplating going all Gandhi and deciding it was pointless we told the Captain we were coming up.
I have bad allergies. It's why I can stand the canned air of our underground bunker so well. I hate fresh air.
The Captain and Miss Ivanchuck were waiting there for us when we stepped back onto the surface of the world. From the way they wouldn't leave eithers side I wondered if it should be Mrs Reinglad, though I didn't think it mattered. Neither of them could talk in anything but yes or no and judging by the fur creeping out of me and Langs skins we wouldn't be able to ask any questions in a short while anyway.
Not that there was much to ask. They were both donkeys. About the only thing worth learning was that the guards for our quaint little bunker had all turned into various different species and headed west to where the closest town was. The Reinglads seemed content enough to stay where they were.
I took a good look around, slightly disappointed by what I saw. As far as we could tell civilization was done, kaput, adios. And yet it all still looked the same. That farm house was still the same ugly yellow as it had been when I'd last seen it more than a month ago and the barn that wasn't fooling any commie spy by sitting on top of the concrete blast doors of the ICBM silo was still that same generic barn red. Why cant you paint a barn blue or something? Is there a law against barns being any color but red? I thought on that and corrected myself. 'Was' there a law against barns being any color but red?
"I cant believe this." I said to Lang. He looked up from watching his fingers fuse together into cloven hooves for a second.
"Cant believe what?"
I waved a paw that was growing pointy tipped claws at the pristine landscape. "The worlds over and I didn't have a hand in ending it. I signed up to baby sit nukes and instead of dying of radiation poisoning or in the single flash of a bunker piercing nuke I'm probably going to die of old age or eaten by a bear or something boring like that." I lamented. Putting my paws on my hips and staring out accusingly at the world.
I heard Lang try to choke out a comment and looked back to see his face push out in a muzzle. He made a couple attempts to talk before bleating in frustration and miming hanging himself. Cloven hooved hand holding an invisible rope over his head and inhumanly long tongue hanging out and everything.
I thought about it for a second and then felt stuff begin to twist in unnatural ways in my torso and realized I maybe had time for one more sentence. There was no way I was going to let Lang get the last word on me.
"Tempting." I said, considering as long as I dared, looking at the red fur on my paw and finally placing my species. "But I think I'm heading into town. I'm curious about whether that cute waitress at the bar is still as foxy as I remember."