Kick the Bucket

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Epilogue (end)

The Earth, it could be said, survived the passage without a scratch.

Coming to grips with bodies inexplicable altered into what can only be described as hyper-evolved animals; along with other creatures that came along for the ride, would take many generations to accomplish. But humans, whether those who directly experienced ‘The Great Mix-Up’ in person, or their distant descendants, would always remain a stubborn bunch resistant to change.

Sometime later...

Grabbing his shotgun, a farmer jumps out of bed.

“Where are you going, Tom?” asks his wife.

“I thought I heard the barn door slam, dear. I’m gonna check it out.”

“Be careful! It could be that bunch of those school kids making trouble again!”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head. One shot in the air, and they’ll run back to their folks!”

After bending down to kiss her on the check, he storms out of their bedroom after tossing on a heavy jacket and pants. In moments his steel-shod heavy hooves are striding past pens filled with animals his grandparents could never have conceived of in their wildest imaginations.

Both sides of the barn door are ajar, and flickering yellow light is escaping from every seam. Prepared to give misbehaving juveniles of various species the scare of their young lives, he grabs a wrought iron door handle in his four-digit hoof-like hand and stops. Instead of the sounds of children playing out of the vigilant sight of their parents, he hears very familiar laughter . . . his eldest daughter, Mary-Sue.

Turning his heavy head slightly to peer between the doors, he spies two figures dancing in the dim glow of a kerosene lamp within each other arms. Moving in step to the music of a gentle ballad coming from a nearly inaudible radio, their unclothed fur-covered bodies spin with upraised tails in a dance as old as life.

With a smile spread across his equine muzzle, the farmer closes the barn doors silently and returns to his wife knowing all is well with the world.

The end

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