I walked into the grocery store

and the baggers, the clerks, and the customers

didn’t look like they could survive for 24 hours in the Alaskan Wilderness.

You know it, just by looking at them—dead stares, hair that grows everywhere, fat clinging to their bones, like garbage bags.

Even with a survival kit, they wouldn’t know how to boil water.

There is something missing in humanity. I don’t know what it is. They are passive.

I was talking to my dad, yesterday, and I suggested the survival diet as a reality TV show.

“Fat people are put on small islands, and watched. There are coconut trees and crawdads to eat. It’s like Castaway. They have nobody to talk to. The person who stays on the island the longest, is the winner. A doctor could give them weekly check-ups. Fast Food boats would arrive and offer KFC, McDonalds, and Burger King, but they would need to refuse, or forfeit the game. How long would they stay on the island?” I asked.

“Not even a month. People love food, more than they love religion.”

“Is that why people don’t fast?”

“Probably. Look at them. You can tell they’re spiritually sick. They haven’t missed a meal since the microwave was invented.”

“On the flip-side, people do die. It happens quickly.

Making sense of it all, has much to do with what they loved

or who they loved.

A hero’s death is worth it.

Being a teenage heart-throb, and then dying in a car crash, is the way to go.

It makes old people bitter, when they watch parade after parade of young people die, while they remain forgotten in later life.

There is satisfaction, knowing you are still alive, but you are also, waiting on death, and taking death into your own hands, is something that won’t wash off.

Most people are afraid of what they don’t understand. That’s why people are ignorant. A person walks willingly into the Savanna, or they stay in camp, and wait for the lions.

I prefer the hunt, but I don’t want to die young. It’s best to have something to write about, until death.”

“You’re full of shit,” my dad said.

“That’s because I like to eat.”


3 thoughts on “Where are the survivors?

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