“You know, I did not imagine things would go like this. The Earth has been around for how long? At least two-thousand years, right?” he said.
“Yes. At least,” she said.
“There never was a problem. Things happened and everything was eventually okay. I mean sure there were plagues and pandemics and natural disasters. There were droughts and famines and floods and people died,” he said.
“But not everybody,” she responded.
“Yes! Not EVERYBODY. We were supposed to be here forever. We were supposed to be here until the Earth wasn’t here,” he insisted.
“Well, we were around for about… two-thousand years,” she stared.
“Is it too late to figure out what went wrong?” he asked.
“Pretty much,” she nodded.
“But I want to. I want to figure it out. They say a problem has its own solution, buried in it,” he suggested.
“We’re buried in it, alright,” she stated, stoically.
“Humor me a little. We don’t know how much time is left. We have to figure this out,” he demanded.
“Great, so that when the Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin of Kepler 23b finally arrive here, we can have some sort of written explanation of our stupidity,” she sighed.
“Yes. We should write this down. Can’t rely on any electronics actually functioning. Or people from other places knowing how to use it,” he considered.
“What about paper, burning?” she asked pointedly.
“Chalk on a slate?” he tried.
“Rain and moisture,” she reminded.
“Maybe we could get a bulldozer and move some tree trunks so they can see it from space,” he offered.
“Mother Nature is the greatest terrorist on the planet,” she said. “a sustained wind would blow your message out to sea.”
“There’s nothing we can do; we can’t survive and we can’t leave a message about who we were?” he lamented.
“Maybe paint it on the wall?” She theorized.
“I don’t have any paint,” he realized.
“Doesn’t matter. There won’t be anyone to read it,” she shrugged.
“Are you certain EVERYONE is going to expire?” he asked.
“I think if anyone survives, they will wish they hadn’t, and will have a relatively short and extremely unpleasant remainder of their life,” she said firmly.
“Do you think everyone took the overdose medicine?” he asked.
“Obviously not,” she said, looking at him.
“A lot of people did,” he said, looking at the deserted area outside. “Are you absolutely certain…”
“Please stop,” she said. “You are continually whining and pleading and complaining and bargaining. In case you were wondering, we finally know what the last man on earth is like,” she said.
“I can’t believe we’re ending the species on an insult.”
“Biblically speaking, it began that way,” she said.
“Why hasn’t God just come down to spare us?” he inquired.
“Maybe this is the spare,” she said bitterly.
“Hey, listen about that ‘going out with a bang’ joke I made earlier. We can still do that,” he said.
“I wonder where it will happen first,” she asked. “Will it be the larger continents, Asia and Africa that will start to collapse, or will it be based on where the sun is located,” she thought aloud.
“Did you hear me? I actually meant that,” he said.
“What will survive? Will there even be any proof that humanity existed? All of our buildings, our monuments, our tributes to ourselves. Will any of that remain?” she asked.
“You know, I really, really want to,” he pleaded.
“Will the earth split up into pieces? Will the atmosphere remain or will it be torn apart?” she wondered, looking to the sky.
“I don’t want to die alone,” he said.
“We’re all dying alone,” she snapped. “You can’t die with someone else, not really. Or we’re all dying together. The whole planet.”
“Let me comfort you,” he said, reaching out.
“I don’t need comforting!” she screamed. “I have accepted what is inevitable. This is the end of humanity. And look how you’re acting! You’re a baby, a whiner, a drunken frat brother wanting one more fuck, you’re a thinker that thought too late, wanting to come up with a solution that needed to happen decades, maybe centuries ago! You are an apologist for every thoughtless, selfish and inconsiderate action we have done!”
“That’s… that’s not true and that’s not fair,” he said. “Certainly, we all want to experience life and to have pleasure. The least we can do for humanity is to share what love is left.”
“I’m not interested in that,” she said. “I want to reflect on life, my life and the remainder of what life is out there.”
“Please. I'm asking you nicely to have sex.”
“Look! You didn't even bother to figure out what went wrong!” she yelled. “So let me do that for you. What went wrong was guys like you!”
“I think I'm starting to understand. Help me to see things your way. It would be a lot easier if you’d let me slide into you,” he said.
“Look,” she said. “Is that the Red Horizon? It’s coming closer to us. Has it destroyed everything before that?”
“We don’t have much time,” he said. “I hear clothes will stick to your skin which will only make everything much more painful. We need to get naked, now.”
“I want the pain. If I didn’t, I would have taken the overdose,” she sneered.
“Well, I’m going to get nakee,” he said and started taking off his shirt.
“Do that in the other room, please,” she asked politely.
“Come on,” he said. “When are you going to see another one of these?”
“Seriously, you’re ruining the end of the world!”
“But I want...”
“That’s totally it,” she began. “You want. It’s always about what YOU want. It’s never about what anyone else wants. It’s never about a compromise. It’s never about anything but you.”
“This is hard for me,” he said.
“Yeah. I can see that,” she said, giving a sidelong glance to his thighs. “After all of this, this is how we’re going to finish. With a boner. You know, that word used to mean ‘mistake.’”
“If you don’t join me, it still does,” he smiled. “Come on. Are you waiting till the last minute?”
“The Red Horizon is getting closer,” she said. “I guess you could say I am.”
“Procrastinator. There’s not much more time for you to be indignant and abrasive,” he stated touching himself. “You better come for it.”
“You might as well hump the couch,” she stated, “But if you do, let me know so I won’t have to see that upholstery get usurped.”
“I love it when you talk polysyllabic,” he stared.
“Time is running out,” she said.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” he said, approaching.
“Is this your final legacy?” she asked as he got to within arm’s reach.
“At least I’m not sending you a dick pic,” he said. “I don’t even have a phone for a selfie.”
“Here. How about one more drink before we go,” she said, handing him a tumbler of strong spirits.
She toasted him; he downed the beverage, then his throat tightened, and he hit the floor.
“Wow, that stuff really works. But, then again, you drank two doses at once.” she said sidling up to his ear. “I don’t know if you can still hear me, but the best part of this is that your last word was ‘selfie.’”
She ran to the window, but the Red Horizon suddenly appeared to stopped moving, and began to recede. The sky cleared and the stars were visible.
“Hah,” she said, “Apocalypse averted.”
This story was written for LJ Idol using the prompt Swan Song