The Horror

Two days now in the shit and filth, crawling on our bellies like the worms we are. It’s dark and eerily quiet. It hasn’t been this quiet for so long now. What are they up to? The rain beats down and drenches us in our water sodden coffins. There are only two of us left.
Giblets was the first to go, he lost his mind, said he’d had enough and made the dash out into no-mans land. Gorf tried to restrain him but it was no good, he was gone before we could do anything. I don’t expect we’ll see him again.
Man Donkey’s demise was the hardest to take. There we were, the three of us laughing for the first time in days when suddenly he took four hits and toppled like a giant oak tree felled by a foresters axe. All attempts to revive him failed. That leaves Gorf and me, we’ve been like this for hours, waiting, afraid to move.
Suddenly, there’s a WHOOOSH off to our left then a huge explosion. The sky lights up. This is followed by more explosions, the noise is deafening. Among the explosions we can hear the screams of what sounds like thousands of people hysterically crying out. This must be it! They’re coming. In the light of one of the explosions I look over at Gorf, he looks pale, almost dead. This is it! Footsteps approaching and a voice crying out over the din;

‘Bertie, Bertie!!!’
Thank fuck, it’s Giblets!
‘Over here!’ I cry, ‘Over here!’
‘Oh man, I found yiz, Quick c’mon The Killers are coming on to the stage’
‘Right so, I’ll get me wellies!’

I lash out and give Man Donkey an unmerciful boot in the hole.

‘GET UP YOU STONEY BASTARD!!’