Anthony Luciani's Story | As told by Colin Maynes

They stood in disbelief, who would have thought that such atrocities would ever exist after the holocaust. The air was heavey with angst and humidity. A palpable hint of blood and fried flesh hung in their nostrils the way a cat clings to curtains.

Did this really happen, suppose I should start at the begining.

Dwight, Novak, and Harvey stood next to the small mounds of dirt and enormous concrete slab which, as the sun rose on the plains, gave an strange shimmer to the prarie dogs. Who, now that the winds had kicked up stood out of their little mounds and faced the concrete slab.

"Really makes you wonder. Why do they look like they are praying to the sun as it rises every morning?" said Dwight

"Dunno, maybe they escaped from the traveling circus that came through here and caused all this bad weather we've had lately. Lightning and such I mean." replied Novak in his usual morning stupor before he has had has coffee for the day, all six cups of it. "Wonder what they's worth?" he said loud enough that it sounded like he may have farted.

"Yous two is always seein' things where they's ain't" retorted Harvey, "Tha's why I ordered two bulldozers here to push this slab of concrete over onto this praire dog home, that way I can keep riding my ol' horsey here off into the sunset without worryn' about twistin' her ankle.

And with that almost like a cue in a bad TV show or a bodly written story two enormous bulldozers pulled up. The drivers got out spoke to Harvey and got back into the cabs of their enormous death machines.

Then the clouds that had been hanging over the flat prarie lands erupted in a hailstorm of rain, torrents of wind, and more electricity than Manhattan uses in year.

The air crackled like a thousand whips and hissed louder than a broken gas main. The other men had left fearing for their lives now Dwight and Novak were the only ones left to witness the terrible events that were to follow.

The rain continued to pour down out of the heavens. "I sure hope them prarie dogs have got some place safe to go" said Dwight, when like an angel striking the earth with its terrible fist, lightning struck in the center of the prarie dog complex, twice, obliterating the once fertile earth leaving only the crater and concrete in memory of these faithful creatures.

Dwight straighted up and without a sniffle or batting an eye lash, he got into his truck and drove home where he cried for the poor creatures that had for sometime noe been his only source of amusment in his depressing life.
Dwight fell asleep with a bottle of Jack Daniel's whiskey stowed safely between his legs.

They stood in disbelief, who would have thought that such atrocities would ever exist after the holocaust. The air was heavey with angst and humidity. A palpable hint of blood and fried flesh hung in their nostrils the way a cat clings to curtains.

Dwight walked over to the slab of concrete and with his leathery, hung-over hands. He carefully wrote "In Memoriam" on that enormous slab of concrete.
"Wish I could bury them but twernt no bodies to be found of them little creatures" sniffled Dwight as he turned to walk back to his truck.

Neither of the other men said a word, both regretting their jaded remarks from yesterday. They waited as the sun rose over the slab of concrete.