The Last Moron On Earth

I awoke with blueberries on my mind and the taste of 'grape' cough syrup tainting my tongue. Blegh.

I groggily rose to my hooves, attempting some stretches as best as a horse could. Satisfied and refreshed, I searched the aisles for a suitable breakfast. Granola and water had to do; I had my fill and snagged a few of each in my pack for later.

Figuring I might as well search the whole store for helpful items (or just cool shit I never thought about buying) I made my way through the aisles. Its ridiculous what is being sold at a pharmacy these days; I had gathered a bunch of snacks, several sizes and styles of flashlights, two multitool, various packs of assorted tools and knives, a pair of those wacky looking nightvision sunglasses, a 25-foot spool of friggen rope, two large bottles of honey flavored whiskey, and a, uh, 'personal massager'. To work out any kinks or soreness I said to myself, totally believing it.

I wanted to investigate behind the actual pharmacy counter, but the heavy door was locked and there was a window in place. Undeterred, I simply grabbed a screwdriver and a rubber mallet from the tool section. Ridiculous. It took quite some time and persuasion to open the door, but I soon enough found myself staring down the thousands of potentially deadly goodies. I searched for what I knew, which was pretty limited given the selection available, but settled on an admittedly absurd amount of ambien, norco, and a few epipens. For science. Totally.

Pack practically bursting at the seams, I was ready to begin the day.

Taking all that stupid shit was a bad idea.

This backpack would have been fine enough to lug around as a human, but as a horse? It was a downright nightmare.

I had to tie a shoelace around the glasses to keep them on my face (an act that took an hour itself, tying knots without fingers is hilariously frustrating), but wasn't able to easily loop two limbs through the backpack's straps, so I simply had it around one and let it sit precariously on my back. Needless to say, it slipped often.

Thankfully, I spotted another Home Depot in the distance; it seems like Ive been to a new H-D each day, and, for the most part, haven't had to leave the city. This country is unbelievable sometimes.

The wide door was, of course, locked, but it's glass stood no chance against my rear hooves, even if the act kicking it was awkward and performed messily.

I left my pack by one of the counters, and fished the four boots out of it. After some wandering, I'd gathered what I needed.

Clumsily slipping long rubber gloves over my hooves (which was a struggle, but looked hilarious), I slid a hoof into each boot and taped the collar taught. Lifting the hoof, the boot more or less stayed in place. Progress. I repeated the process for each hoof, and eventually had 4 taped boots. Figuring that walking in them would be clumsy as all hell, I brought a knife over and started cutting; everything from the arch forward was discarded, though the reinforced sole took some time.

I placed a hoof back into a cut boot, and used expanding foam to fill the crevices. When the foam filled everything and started billowing out the front, I taped the hell out of it. After a lengthy half-hour, I had a god-awful looking set of horse boots. If it looks stupid, but it works....

I wouldn't be able to run in them, and bending my new appendages to grab things like I'd been accustomed to was impeded by the boot, but I wouldn't be in danger wearing my hooves to the nub.

Not that it would matter too much, because I smashed open the rental kiosk and took the keys for one of the pickup trucks being offered outside.

I loaded my kit, some tools, a barrel-pump, and a garden hose into the bed of the truck before heading off towards parts unknown.

I spent the better part on an hour simply driving down the freeway, looking down for something fun to do, before I saw the familiar red oval signalling a Sam Ash. With a hard right turn, I exited the freeway and gunned it to the store.

Pieces were falling into place, but I would need more....

***

The sun was hanging low, painting the sky with violent reds before fading to black. Hours of preparation were all coming down to this.

I had spent ages driving back and forth, gathering pieces from all across town. From the music store there were the massive amps, now bolted in place in the glistening silver bed of the rental truck. A return to the Home Depot gave me a black steel cage, which was welded sloppily around it, providing additional support and a mount for generators to be held; no sense in being unable to play sound.

A series of cables and wires snaked through the cage, leading to a very complicated (and heavy, might I add) turntable setup. If Guetta taught me anything, its that you can set it and forget it.

Welded to the roof of the car was a series of floodlights, with various colored lenses taped in front of each bulb.

The entire truck was repainted silver, with very shoddy flames running the length of the crew-cab. CUDDLE SHUTTLE was written in my best block lettering on the hood, in a neon blue and violet fade.

Below a massive downhill slope lay a massive empty car carrier, ramp lowered and perpendicular to two additional trucks. One truck was simply a large rental truck filled to the brim with wood pallets, gasoline, and paper from an office supply store. Hitched to the other was a carefully emptied silver tank trailer.

Well, mostly empty. A trail of gasoline and powder led from its position all the way up the hill, in a pool sitting to the side of my car.

Soon...

I didn't have to wait long for the last ray of light to vanish behind some distant hills, I started the generators. The floodlights kicked on with a harsh click, and I went to turn each of the amplifiers on. Even above the harsh noise of the generators, I could hear the buzzing speakers, all dials set to 10.

I carefully lit a roadflare and tossed it into the flammable pile, starting the reaction. I climbed into the cab of the truck, and started the music. Closing the door and buckling up, I put the vehicle in neutral, and waited with a hoof on the brake pedal.

"Tonight..."

The fire continued slowly but surely down the hill. It had reached about halfway when I took my hoof off the brake. The truck began rolling down the hill, and quickly began to pick up speed.

Feeling the fire had a decent enough head start, and in time with the swell of obnoxiously loud music, I shifted into drive and stomped on the gas pedal.

With a bright flash and a tremendous thunder, the fuel tanker exploded, spraying globs of flaming oil throughout the intersection below me. I was unable to see if the blaze ignited the other truck, but given the front of my ramp was now engulfed in flames, I was pretty sure I was covered. I readied an epipen from my bag, gripping the wheel with one hoof and the other wrapped around the slim injector.

With a hearty laugh, I gave it my all, jabbing the tube to my thigh and slammed the pedal down; with one last burst of acceleration, I hit the lowered ramp with a thud.

Time slowed down, and I lurched skyward in a slow arc. My ears twitched at every sound; from the roaring engine to the crackling flames below, everything was clear.

My supercharged heart bounded with life, threatening to burst free and escape its calcium prison, and it honestly felt great.

For arguably the first time in my life, I felt alive.

God bless the end of the world.

Reaching the apex of my arc, I entered the blazing column of choking black smoke. Uncaring of the hazards associated with breathing in the toxic fumes, I inhaled, greedily gulping down the smokey air.

As soon as it had started, it was over. I'd left the black cloud, still encased in a sweltering heat.

My grin faltered as I remembered that gravity exists

I hit the ground with a massive crunch.

The truck bounced, lurching to the side and continuing on towards a wall along the street.

I slammed on a pedal to no avail, tried to brace myself and-

"So don't stop..."

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With a jump, I raised my head and opened my eyes.

It was pitch black, and, aside from a warmth running down my face, I was freezing.

It seems there is definitely no logic to human behavior.

Warmth soon returned to my hooves, and I was made aware of just how much pain I was in.

Although, much could be said about your kind's tenacity. Maybe this is something we can learn from you.

My chest burned, each breath a struggle against an intense crushing pain.

I tried to speak, succeeding in only coughing, heralding another wave of agony.

Perhaps without such reckless disregard for safety; all this pain in the name of 'fun'

The vise working its will against my chest lessened its grip; little good it did.

I lay in the dark, choking on my own life in a burning, crumpled mess.

"Our time is running short; I don't want to see you make the same mistakes I've made. Try as you might, you cannot, nay, you will not survive on your own. Seek out the others of your kind."

The warmth receded, and the voice grew distant.

"Follow the Sunrise towards the Gates of Ever After."

The ghostly voice echoed softly in the room, and I struggled to catch my breath.

With a monumental effort, I voiced the one word on my mind.

"What?"

A boiling pain rages in my brain. Magma runs from my wounds, and I am racked with spasms as an unseen inferno rages across my body.

God bless the end of the world.

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