DOOMSDAY IN LIVING COLOR by ZACK PEERCY
I was a penguin and I wasn’t depressed. You were a walrus and no one cared that you were gay. We lived together in a valley. Most of our furniture was Blue. A ping pong table signified an interest and skill in a game that neither of us possessed.
We look at each other; there’s an unease about it. We know it’s time, but we don’t want to go. I look at your tweed jacket and Purple lapel daisy. You look at my Red smudged glasses. Words can’t explain away this instinct.
We leave our valley home and begin the climb. The hill isn’t steep enough to impede your walrus trudge or my penguin waddle. We want to talk, to distract, but we trudge and waddle on in silence. As clear as this end is becoming, we can’t shake this nervous energy. It’s exciting to witness our doomsday.
I reach the peak before you. The sky is dark, but clear. There are big groups in the distance, also watching, also knowing, but not here. We are alone on our mountain. We are together. It begins.
Green. Yellow. Orange. These rockets erupt, explode, expand. Fireworks filling the night sky. It’s beautiful, but we know. The whistle and fizz and pop and and crackle and boom are the finale of finales. We look up and we weep and we know. I’m a penguin. And you’re a walrus. And it’s the end of the world.
Zack Peercy is a playwright based out of Chicago. His work has been featured in Occulum, Memoir Mixtapes, Chicago Literati, Toasted Cheese Magazine, The Sandy River Review, and others. He's on Twitter (@zackpeercy), but he obsessively checks his tweets for validation. So, maybe don't support that? But do? He's slowly working on it.