How I Spent the Apocalypse by Selina Rosen Read Free Book Online

necessary to make me even greener.
    That was the problem. The rich people had all the money and the people who would have used it to make the world better didn’t.
    Now the rich people are all dead and the world is better off without them. See the mega rich have always been the problem. They consume so much and share so little so that when the end came no one gave a damn what happened to them. They were totally unprepared because the rich idiots never really believed that anything could happen to them that they couldn’t buy their way out of; therefore, none of them took their money and used it to build something like—oh, I don’t know—a self-sufficient bunker in the middle of one of the safest parts of the country. No, they just bought more and more pollution-spewing crap.
    They couldn’t buy their way out of the apocalypse, so I imagine—maybe hope would be a better word here—that they were some of the first to die. You can’t hire someone to save your ass from sure death, not when it’s obvious that money isn’t going to be worth a good damn when the smoke clears, and let’s face it… What survival skills did rich people have? None. They were incapable of doing anything on their own. They deserved to die, because they’re the ones that destroyed the world, not poor people. The rich—with more money than good sense and certainly more money than conscience—milked the world for all it was worth, more often than not using the poor as slaves. The only bitch was that the rich and greedy didn’t just kill themselves—of course they never had.
    The thing that really sucks, though, is that give us a couple of hundred years and greedy fuckers will have figured out how to get rich again and then all the crap will start all over. But it will take them a long time to completely fuck the world over again and… By then I’ll be good and dead so… Not my problem.
    I had just finished making breakfast when she walked out. She had obviously washed her hair, her long, thick dark-brown hair, which had probably used more water than I did in a week.
    As if reading my mind she said quickly, “I just got it wet, and then I shampooed it, and then I rinsed.”
    I didn’t get into the fact that she’d showered last night. After all I was just being picky. We had plenty of water; the well was full, and after that rain last night all of the cisterns would be as well. I just don’t like waste. Waste was one of the things that caused all the problems in the first place. Screw that, it wasn’t one of the problems it was THE problem. If we hadn’t wasted all our gas, or had worked on becoming less oil dependant way before it was necessary, we wouldn’t have needed the Middle East and they could have just kept shelling each other and we wouldn’t have given a shit. So everything that happened was the fault of waste and stupid-assed religion.
    And the eighteen-plus nuclear warheads. We’ll probably never know exactly how many of them were launched in the Middle East or who fired what at whom, when.
    I set the table and we sat down to eat a hot breakfast of scrabbled eggs, sausage, toast, and coffee. I momentarily felt guilty about all the people who were probably freezing to death, drowning, dying in a pool of lava, or lying under a piece of fallen debris. I even felt bad about people who weren’t getting to eat a nice, hot breakfast of fresh eggs in a nice warm house, but I pushed all that out of my head. Everyone could have prepared. They might not have been able to prepare as well as I had, but they could have all survived in some form of comfort with very little effort. Alright that’s bullshit because some places were literally no longer on the map when all was said and done. But certainly more could have made it than did.
    We ate breakfast in silence, so I think maybe she was thinking about everyone who wasn’t eating and everyone who just wasn’t anymore, too.
    “When do you think I’ll be able to go home?”