You're Invited!, a short story

Pat the flames out on your pantleg, patch the drywall where the nuclear cockroaches attempted to breach and grab your children sharing the last of the canned green beans, you’ve been invited to the wedding of Lauren Mustt and Bill Uhtend!

We all know the planet is going through turmoil currently with the random spontaneous combustion occurring across the globe and the radiation infected insects spreading from all corners of the Earth but true love can’t be resisted, am I right?

Of course, I’m right! That’s why we want YOU! Yes, you and your family, including those adorably brand new two twin infants, to attend our wedding ceremony with reception to follow.

The directions are easy peasy giant termite squeezy. (Just a little joke, no giant termites will need squeezing on the path to the wedding. According to recent reports they are still in Canada and haven’t even crossed the frozen over border yet.)

First, you’ll want to hop on the 608 Freeway heading North towards the mushroom cloud, don’t fret though because you’ll soon transfer over to Highway 32. Drive quickly through the carbon gas bubble approximately six miles (make sure your gas masks are sealed tightly) then hop off the highway.

By hop off, I do mean accelerate quickly as you’ll want excessive amounts of speed to clear the debris from the meteor crater. (You know, Bill popped a tire there two weeks ago and insurance says they don’t cover Out-of-Atmosphere damage. They want to up our premium, can you believe that?)

Back to the directions though. You’ll want to veer right immediately after impact. On the corner, you should see the Tank Hogs and their motorcycles aligned in a row at the gas station. Don’t bother with them. Don’t even make eye contact, unless you need to fill up. In that case, I hope you happened to bring some Chamomile tea bags or Mott’s Apple Sauce. I’m not sure what the trade value is right now on everything, we’ve just been so busy with the wedding planning there’s been no time. Oh, what am I saying? You understand, you’re married. Shit, were married, my apologies.

Anyways, once you pass the gas station you’re going to want to go exactly 1.6 miles and then proceed to make sharp swerves. Right, left, right, left, right, left, right, and then left again. If done correctly, all the plates should be pressed and the gate will be activated and opening. Then pull right in and park next to the huge praying mantis corpse. It’s not hard to miss. (Don’t worry, it’s definitely dead. It snuck in with us when we did our tour of the venue and they just haven’t been able to move it considering the weight. But it’s dead for sure. I saw Bill harpoon it in the neck myself. Oh! Which reminds me!)

Presents!

How could I forget? Well, if it wasn’t obvious already, Bill needs a new harpoon. He snapped it in half when he tumbled running from the falling praying mantis mass. Loudest thump I’ve ever heard, besides when Bill plops down in bed at night. (Ugh, husbands, am I right?) You can find one at the old sporting’s good store, but that’s in Bloodsucker Square. The ticks there are unforgiving. The amount they can drain at their mutated size is not worth the journey just for our wedding gift. We wouldn’t ask that of you, jeez. Bill is totally fine with a used one. They can be found on any old dead resistance soldier. You know those are easy to come across. (May they rest in peace.) We’d grab one ourselves but like I said, wedding time is crunch time and we just don’t have any minutes to spare.

As for me? Your presence alone would be present enough. I wouldn’t dare ask for much more than that. RSVPs can be sent via the vial of pollen attached to this invitation. Hold it outside for at least three seconds, our Carrier Wasps should be at the ready to take your RSVP. Don’t make any sudden movements or they’ll flee, I know they’re quite terrifying but their delivery speed is impeccable. When I see you again, assuming I do, I’ll be Mrs. Uhtend! Can you believe that? What a time to be alive!

4 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Jim Atchison had sworn it wouldn't happen again. And Jim Atchison wasn't a promise breaking kind of guy. Last year was an anomaly. Well, on his end at least. While he'd promised it wouldn't be anythin

Ruben’s gears seemed to follow a routine of their own. Every day by two o’clock in the afternoon, they were uncomfortably dry. No matter where or what he was up to. Even today, sitting in the veterina

Fog suffocated the surroundings outside as the three teenagers walked down the empty, lifeless street. The house they were looking for should emerge out of the darkness at any minute, they thought. Ou