Red Wine and Apple Sauce

Destroying each other, or devastating an American city? A single supermarket worker fights for his survival between two romantically heated rivals.

Ben’s humdrum life is turned upside down two sexy giants who blow into town and cause havoc. A post-apocalyptic short story.

Excerpt

Red wine, cottage cheese, some applesauce, a few candy bars and a diet coke. That was pretty much what was left on the shelves of the local supermarket. I hurriedly shoved the items into my back pack.

I had been downstairs in the storage unit when it happened.

The blast had been huge, incredibly deafening. I was moving cartons of applesauce when I dropped the boxes I was carrying and quickly covered my ears. My eyes had been clinched shut, a reaction to the bright winded flash that followed the explosion.

It was like a typhoon had hit. I found my way to the closeted storage space and locked myself inside. I must have passed out as soon as the door shut. When I came to, I looked at my watch. The clock face had broken and the hands had stopped on ten after three. It had been roughly six hours after I had clocked in at nine a.m.

The day had started out quiet enough. It had been a beautiful summer day and I actually sprang out of bed. Some mornings if the weather was real nice I’d go for a quick run around the park. I was faster than most because I ran track in school just before I decided on swimming instead. Now I just run because it feels good. I have runner's legs with a swimmer's upper body. All told, this makes for a pretty mediocre swimmer and runner.

I liked my job at the supermarket. Mainly lower incomes used the markets these days. Most people shopped online and had everything delivered. My job at the market had been steady work, though, and I enjoyed it. It paid well and promised me a career in sales and management. And one day I’d work the cash register, although no one used actual cash much since everything was card coded. It made life easier, especially for the non-grads.

My home was close by, in what had come to be called a studio box, where I basically slept and showered. I had all my meals delivered. It was cheap and kept me from getting fat. I love sweets. Since sugar had been declared an addictive substance the price of cakes and candies had skyrocketed while the price of vegetables had gone down. Since meat was now genetically engineered, the prices had remained unchanged. Due to rampant disease and plague, the government had rendered almost every animal including chickens as endangered species.

I lived in one of the newer glass based buildings where no one had walls. The government, against much protest had decided that if a person had nothing to hide, there would be no need for solid walls of wood or brick. However, the protests were so successful many of the building projects were abandoned. The few hundred buildings that had been completed were allowed to stand and sold for very, very cheap prices. It was true that the buildings did attract a ‘certain element’ but the novelty had long since worn off and the inhabitants were very well adjusted nudists, exhibitionists and voyeurs. The communities that grew around those buildings were pretty amazing. It distanced us from the religious groups and I believed that was a good thing.

I showered in my glass enclosed bathroom. I shaved, I combed my hair and I even masturbated quickly for good measure. I had no problem being seen doing whatever comes naturally. I thought it was pitiful if I couldn’t be seen masturbating in the shower or doing any of the things that people do naturally every day.

Some people turned on the news first thing in the morning. I turned on jazz music. It put me in the greatest mood and before I’d get dressed I’d bust a few dance moves on my own to prove to myself how limber and great looking I was for a guy my age. Room dividers were also made of mirrored glass so I was reminded every day what I needed to work on at the body modification centers.

I am a single solitary man with no attachments to speak of. I fuck around a lot. I heard back in the old days there were bars and pick up places where you’d meet and bring guys home. Man what a feeling of adventure that must have been. Nowadays you punch in a code, program it, get matched and there he is at your door. Ordered for just about the time the pizza would arrive. Of course I need to mention Max. My cat thinks he rules the roost. We butt heads daily and he makes me hurt myself when I go in hot pursuit of him for some reason or another. He’s a real noisy talkative kitty. But, he kinda keeps me grounded. And I worry about him when he seems not his old cantankerous self.