purpleeater
"You don't remember the walks we used to take along the mountain ridges. You don't remember the time you spilled that coffee in my hair and gave me second-degree burns. You don't remember the time you crashed into a tree and I had to drag you from the burning wreck of a truck. You don't remember anything."
"...No, I don't."
"Well, then, I'll have to remember enough for both of us."
CHOPS.
It cracks at my skin, claws at my eyes. I can't do anything but wallow in it, chained to my house like it's holding me prisoner.
How dare you do this to me?
The gun makes more noise than I thought it would.
My ears ring for about five seconds, and I am actually thankful--I don't have to hear the sound of a skull shattering.
I rush over to the man's corpse--never seen him before in my life--and wrest all I can from his lifeless frame. As I work, I wonder if he was a better man than I, traveling to save some desperate village in dire need.
Then I see it.
A canteen.
I gingerly pick it up, caressing its cold, aluminum sides. It is beautiful.
I drink. And drink. And drink. For about five minutes I do nothing but suck the life from the full vessel, and when I finish, I cannot help but shake the flat metal cylinder for the last drops of sweet nectar.
I look down at what's left of the man, and say a quick thank you. I would stay with him longer, but I have someplace I need to be.
Her fingers itched from the heat of the torch. It had a strange beauty to it, with the flames curling and sputtering in the rainy dusk.
She stared into it for awhile longer, contemplating something that she will never speak of, before throwing it onto her husband's pyre.
"Oh, Ms. Pretzel. Knot me up...I know you're flexible."
"Yes, Mr. Cheese Dip. Smother me in all your lavish, savory juices."
With these sparce words, a union was formed.
And the two food items had many children, in many different forms; some became cheese-stuffed, and others became cheese-baked. And yet still others (the outcasts of the family) became hideous amalgamations of bleu-swiss cheese and rye baked goods, both hideous to look upon and to smell. Didn't taste too bad, though.