hot dog

by nick nelson

dylan and oliver were the last two humans left on earth. the bodies of their late companions lay strewn in the sand and dust around the last food dump and the last water hole. the water hole was hopelessly polluted and those who had not died of starvation, or in fighting over the dwindling food, had died from drinking from it. the last bottles of water had been consumed weeks ago, and the last packages of cheese and crackers, and of peanut butter and crackers, had been consumed, and all the hot dog rolls, and all but one hot dog. one last hot dog to be devoured and washed down with the filthy water. dylan and oliver stared at each other across the hot dog. “we could split it,” said oliver. “no, man, you can have it,” said dylan. “i insist.” oliver shook his head. “no, you can have it. there’s been enough killing.” “no, you can have it,” dylan repeated. “you.” “you.” suddenly st gabriel the archangel appeared. “at last,” he announced, “the human race has stopped fighting among itself. therefore you will be given another chance.” neither oliver nor dylan looked very enthusiastic. “another chance for what?” dylan asked gabriel. “listen up, fellows,” gabriel continued, “i will fly away, and when i do, a couple of beautiful maidens will appear. one for each of you. as soon as you decide which of you gets which, the earth will blossom again, and history will start over again, hopefully with better results this time. how does that sound?” “better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, i guess,” said oliver. true to his word, gabriel flew away, and in his place, as he had promised, appeared a pair of beautiful maidens, neither showing any signs of the disease and starvation that had ravaged the human race. “hello,” said the first maiden, “my name is jezebel.” “and i am bathsheba,” said her companion. oliver pointed to bathsheba. “i will take her,” he told dylan. “no,man, she’s mine. you can make do with her friend.” “i said i wanted her,” oliver repeated . “and i mean what i say.” “really?’ dylan picked up a stick which was lying on the ground and bashed oliver on the head with it. with a scream of rage, oliver grabbed dylan by the throat and began throttling him as dylsan continued pounding him on the head with the stick. both were very experienced in such encounters, having bested dozens of rivals in the preceding months. but both were also weakened by those same encounters. the stick fell from dylan’s hand, and he fell back on the sand, dead. with his head almost split open, oliver expired moments later. the two girls looked down on the two corpses. “now, what?” jezebel asked. bathsheba scanned the sky. “i don’t know. maybe that angel fellow will come back, offer us some other kind of deal.” they waited, but gabriel did not return. they began to feel hungry. the hot dog was still lying on the sand. the hot sun was starting to shrivel it up. “want to split it?” bathsheba asked. “no, i would rather have the whole thing myself,” jezebel told her. “let’s fight for it then.” bathsheba pointed to the stick dylan had bashed oliver with. “i will take that, and there is another stick - or a bone or something - over there. you can use that.” “all right,” jezebel agreed. “let’s do it. let’s get it on.”