THE TRASH WAR
On the planet called Earth, in the
aftermath of the war with the distant planet called T'ktro, two figures crept
warily through the steaming streets of what used to be a big city. The tall one led the way, stealthily, there
might still be a few of those hairy aliens lurking in the shadows behind fallen
buildings. But all was deserted, the
scene eerily quiet, so the two crept steadily on, the survivors searching for
food.
They easily found the
supermarket. Luckily it had not been
touched by the devastation. Even some of
the electric lights inside were still working.
Abandoned cars stood hub-deep in the smoky mist that swirled away from
the two as they crossed the parking lot.
The store's automatic doors whooshed open, spilling a wave of stench of
rotting produce and sour milk out over them.
"Phew!" said the shorter
of the two. "Disgusting!"
"Just look for the cans,"
grumbled Tall.
They scanned the aisles, paper
products, cosmetics in plastic bottles, video tapes, then Tall let out a low
whistle. Before them were row-upon-row,
up-to-the ceiling-almost stacks of cans.
"Hoo, brother, would you look at
this! And it's ours, all ours,"
shouted Shorty, clapping his companion on the back. "But, hey..." He stopped, picked up a large can and tapped
it thoughtfully. "How do we get
these open?"
Tall's eyes rolled up to the
ceiling. "Come on, vegetable-brain,"
he muttered, stomping away.
Two aisles over, they found the
display of kitchen utensils.
"Here," said Tall.
"Try this." He handed
Shorty a can-opener, then reached down and removed a small walkie-talkie from a
clip at his waist.
"Wait!" said Shorty. "Before we call the others, let's have a
little celebration...you know...winning the war and all." He lifted the can he'd brought with him up
under Tall's nose.
Tall sniffed and closed his
eyes. "Well," he said,
"we really shouldn't, but..."
He replaced the walkie-talkie on his waist clip. "Maybe just one can..."
He took the can and the can-opener
from Shorty, removed the top and set it carefully aside. Shorty peered down into the can. "What's in there?" he asked with
disgust.
Tall tipped the can slightly. "It says P E A C H E S I N
H E A V Y S Y R U P." The two shrugged at each other. Tall turned the can upside down and poured
the peaches out onto the floor...plop, plop.
Then he began removing the bottom of the can.
"Um, hold on a second,"
said Shorty, as he reached up and gently poked a dangling wire back into Tall's
blackened and empty left eye socket.
"Thanks," said Tall,
wincing a little. "I'll be glad
when they get the repair stations operational.
Those lasers really tore us up."
He nodded at the twisted mass of burned wires and circuitry that had
been Shorty's right arm.
"Yeah," said Shorty,
picking up the shiny round can top and taking a bite out of it. "You know," he went on, "I was
feeling kind of bad about coming here, blowing things up, taking all this by
force, but now I'm starting to think that those selfish 'humans' deserved
everything they got. I mean, all this
food just being wasted."
Tall nodded. "Huge dumping grounds full of food have
been discovered all over the planet."
He munched silently for a moment on the bottom of the can. "And you know what really gets me? That they lied to us when we requested food
aid and said that there was widespread famine here. They had so much, and wouldn't even share
it."
The End