Lasting Last

A short story by Moshe Sipper

The last man on earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door.

It was the last woman. “Forgot your keys again?” asked the last man calmly. He was quite used to his wife’s key-loss-phy by now — and he loved her for it.

“Sorry dear,” spoke the last woman softly as she entered the house.

“How are the kids doing?” asked the last man somewhat anxiously. “Are they okay?”

“I’d say they’re taking this pretty well,” chuckled the last woman. “Can’t you hear them playing outside?”

“Now that you mention it ...”

The last boy and the last girl were undoubtedly having lots of fun, playing as they were outside on the front lawn. The last man could hear cries of joy and barks of pleasure. These latter came from Sparky — the last dog.

“It’s almost time,” said the last man. “Shouldn’t we call them in?”

“Give me another minute, love,” replied the last woman distractedly. “I still haven’t found where Mr. Perkins is hiding.” Mr. Perkins was the last cat.

“Have you looked under our bed?” asked the last man. “You know how Mr. Perkins loves to hide there.” After a moment he heard the last woman’s shout from upstairs: “You were right dear, I found him.”

Then the last man called his kids inside the house.

And all of them — the last man, the last woman, the last boy, the last girl, the last dog, the last cat, and even a couple of last mice — got into the transporter and left.

​Eventually, everybody came back. Even the mice.
 
Copyright © 2012 by Moshe Sipper