The Epic of Nobody

Tale 1

What would you do if you were the last person on earth? Bet you’ve been asked that a million times before. Maybe not. Either way, I don’t give a shit. I’m going to tell you what I did. Well, first, I guess should mention how became the last person on earth.

It was never my intention or one of my life goals. Hell, I can’t even remember my life goals. When I woke up, I was in one of those mega hospitals on like the fortieth floor—don’t quote me on that, my memory turns to shit sometimes. Anyways, I woke up, and the first thing I felt was a cool draft coming from a gaping hole in the wall. The sky stretched on forever, light blue with thin, creamy clouds. I lost myself for a moment—you should always stop and look up at the sky because you never know if that will be your last time admiring it.

I padded around in the shadows of the room. Water dripped from hanging pipes, forming puddles that I splashed through happily. I found a hospital gown in a drawer, then went and sat on the bed I woke up on, trying to remember how in the hell I ended there. I tried for hours to remember until a bird flapped its noisy wings in and puked right in front of me.

“Well, that’s flattering,” I said.

I thought it was a raven, or maybe it was a blue jay.

“You know how I ended up here?” I asked it.

The bird chirped or squawked. Maybe it was a seagull?

It flew away, leaving me to contemplate until my stomach started complaining. I glanced around, and there wasn’t a sandwich in sight, so I had to leave that hospital room and my amazing view. The sun was starting to sleep anyway. By the time I got to the bottom floor entrance, I had a packaged meal that read: MRE CHEESE TORTELLINI. I ripped it open and dug in. It was slimy and cold and gross and probably expired, but it shut down the complaints.

Strolling down the street, I realized several things. The skyscrapers were losing their battle to the bush and age. Brown rusted beams and cracked concrete were everywhere I looked. It was sort of depressing. Grass sprouted from the asphalt and deer roamed freely down the barren linear paths, gorging themselves to their hearts’ content.

I was alone.

When I called out, no one answered me back. When everything was black, and the shadows became monsters, I hid in somebody’s apartment. There were expired canned goods in the cabinets, and they were supposed to be eaten by May 17^th, 2030. I didn’t know what day, month, or year it was, so as I funneled mushy vegetables down my throat, I searched for clues. There was a calendar at the bottom of a trash bin, with the freshest date being December 31^st, 2032. That didn’t help, so I simply ignored the inconvenience. At least I was alive.

—You should always be appreciative that you’re alive. I think somebody said that to me once, but I can’t remember who.   

Somebody’s apartment became my apartment. For days I just sat in the different chairs and stared outside, trying to remember how I ended up in that hospital. One day I was shoveling Beefaroni into my mouth when I noticed something. There was a metal band around my wrist. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? I ran outside into the sun to get a better look at it. The first half of what was engraved looked like it had been lasered off. The latter half read: S U N D E R S 8 4 5 0

“Sunders. Eight. Four. Five. Zero,” I chimed with a grin.

I leaped into the air and then ran back into my apartment and into the bathroom, watching my beautiful reflection.

“Sunders. That’s my name!”

Then something else dawned on me. If I was alone, then why did I need a name? Screw being somebody! I grinned and grinned. Pointed at myself in the mirror.

“Nobody.” Then I slapped my chest. “You are Nobody.”

I found a marker in a drawer, and on the metal bracelet before Sunders, I scribbled: NOBODY.

The next day I climbed the tallest skyscraper, I could find that still had strong bones and stuck my head out the window.

—Sidebar. Who started calling tall buildings skyscrapers? They don’t really scrape the sky because the sky goes on forever. It never ends when you think about it. Gazebo says I think too much about the sky, but … well, let’s just get back to the story.

Wind bellowed in my face and through my hair. Sun kissed me, and whatever city I was in spanned on until the horizon ate it.

I screamed, “I’m Nobody!”

And nobody answered me.

The euphoria only lasted for a few days. I was Nobody Sunders. What could I do without a bunch of somebodies? I asked myself that for days as I scavenged around for food. I was losing weight. Those seagulls started to look tasty. At night they morphed into bats. I wondered if they tasted like chicken. Then I wondered what chicken tasted like. I couldn’t remember much, but it didn’t matter because I was Nobody.

Months passed. I did what I thought any reasonable person would do. I learned the banjo. Guitar. I taught myself how to shoot and hunt for small game. I learned how to do agriculture. Or … farm?

—Does it really matter?

 I learned the time of day by the sun, and I masturbated twice a week. It’s real fun to get off in high places. One time after masturbating, I looked down and thought about jumping. My gut swirled, and I took a step back. Guess I wasn’t ready to call it quits yet.

All day I yelled randomly just to hear something until I stumbled into a zoo. In a glass panel, I saw Nobody with a Japanese sword in one hand and a skateboard in the other. A pack clung to my shoulders with expired canned goods inside, a gun, and a bunch of other shit I would probably never need. I wasn’t prepared for anything; I was just having fun doing whatever the hell I wanted. The zoo was nice. Big. All the enclosures were empty, which meant a giraffe could maul me at any time. I don’t know why I thought a giraffe would be the first animal to attack me, but the notion kept me focused.

I smirked as I sat on a rock inside an enclosure. Still, I couldn’t remember anything before waking up in that hospital? Did I live in this city? Who were my parents? How old was I? What did I look like before? Did I have a girlfriend or boyfriend? A cat? Dog? Did I like Coleslaw?

—For some reason, I hate Coleslaw. It freaks me out.

 These questions puzzled me, and I baked in the sun for hours.

I was thinking about stupid monkeys for a time, and I guess somebody got offended.

I’m smarter than you, somebody said.

I glanced around. That voice was in my head.

See, somebody said, you can’t even find me because you’re so dense.

But I indulged somebody anyway. Not like I had any place to be.

“I was happy alone.” I felt my shoulders droop.

Is that so, human?

“Yes.”

I slid down the rock, annoyed. Why couldn’t I just enjoy experiencing being the last person on earth?

I’m a Grandmaster Chimpanzee, somebody announced. A telepathic one. I want to be friends. It’s quite lonely out here.

I stopped, deflated, and banged myself in the head. Was I a schizo in the past?

“Please—” I began, then something moist, steamy, and brown splattered across my face.

If it smells like shit and feels like shit and tastes like shit. It’s probably fucking shit.

And I freaked.

I ran out of the enclosure to a bathroom, immediately gagging into the sink. I tried to turn the water on but, of course, it failed me.

“No no no!” I said as I ran back outside and jumped into the first body of water I could find.

I cleaned my face and stayed under for a long time. Air rushed into my lungs as I broke the surface, immediately seeing the shit-slinging culprit sneering at me.

Hello, human, a well-dressed chimpanzee said.  

I climbed out of the water and pointed at the monkey.  

I’m—

I cut it off. “You’re dead!”

I grabbed my sword off the ground where I had left it and swung it at the chimp, who ducked and bounded away.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Of course, I chased it. It threw shit at me and called me stupid. I was the last person on earth and an ugly chimp was talking down on me.

I chased that monkey for hours around the city until finally it gave up and went inside a surprisingly well-kept house in the suburbs. The grass was cut, fresh, pink paint shined in the sunlight, and a new door was kicked through as I entered in a sweaty and panicked rage.

“Where are you?”

In here, the chimp said.

“Stay out of my head!” I charged down the hall, swiping a photograph off the wall of the chimp posing with a mannequin.

I turned into a dining room.

And there, sitting at the end of a long, glossy wooden table, was the chimp, smoking a cigar. In front of it was a chessboard and a bowl filled with cube cheese.

I jabbed my sword toward it, panting.

I’m surprised you chased me for so long. The chimp waved at me dismissively.  You’re still angry about that?

“Yes. You threw—” I shook my head. Why was I talking to a monkey?

It’s a form of greeting. Sit down, the chimp said.

“No. Something needs to happen. You threw … feces at me!”

What would you propose? The chimp blew out a plume of smoke.

I stood there for a moment and couldn’t think of anything.

—Looking back, I should have thrown my shit at the chimp, but I can’t say I’m too miserable with the outcome now.

The chimp smiled. Sit, let’s play. Know how?

I placed my sword on the table and sat. What did I have to lose? Why was there a telepathic chimp anyway? What the hell was I doing?

“Sure,” I said.

Another pillar of smoke rose into the air.

I hope you’re not a novice, said the chimp. Like I said, I’m a Grandmaster.

“You act like I know what that is.”

A master of chess. THE master of chess since nobody can beat me.

I smirked. “I’m Nobody.”

We played chess almost constantly for two days straight. The chimp beat me seventy times, but I beat it eighty-three times, and we tied four times.

Who are you? the chimp asked, drinking from a milk carton.

I ate canned corned. “I’m a Grandmaster, obviously.”

Something that resembled irritation flashed across the monkey’s face. Sore loser.

No, really. What’s your name?

“Don’t really have one. They’re pointless. But you can call me Nobody.” I raised my metal bracelet, showing the chimp. “Nobody Sunders.”

Okay. I’m—

“You’re Gazebo,” I said matter of factly.

Gazebo bristled, hairs spiking and eyes flaring.

I am not a pet!

I slammed my empty can down onto the table and pointed across at Gazebo.

“You lost more than me. This is payback for your shit slinging.”

Gazebo sagged.

I stood, patting my belly. “Good—”

Wait, why Gazebo? Can’t I be called something else?

“No. I like Gazebos. I think I always have.”

You don’t have any memories.

I shrugged. “So. Anyways. Let’s go. I’m tired of this place. We have the entire world to explore!”

I packed my things and went outside to sit on the grass. Time was frozen. Time didn’t exist. It was pure bliss.

Until Gazebo farted.

I swiped my hand through the air. “Jesus! What have you been eating?”

I made a pot roast the other night while you were sleeping.

“You didn’t share?”

I was hungry.

I marched off when I heard the rev of an engine behind me. I spun, my heart throttling with the engine. A vehicle that worked! I had tried to start several vehicles in the city, but they were all dead.

I sprinted toward a rumbling hatchback.

“Where’d you get this? You can drive?” I asked Gazebo as he wound the windows down.

From the store. And I can do many things, Nobody. Where to?

I slung my pack inside and hopped in the back seat.

“Anywhere. Just drive!”

I didn’t really care that a chimpanzee was driving. I didn’t care too much about anything. I was the last person on earth. I just wanted to experience as much as I could since I was so lucky to be left behind in the rapture or whatever people called it.

And off into the sunset we went.

A day later into our road trip, out in the sticks somewhere, I realized I should have given Gazebo clearer directions.

We were surrounded.

“This is not good,” I said.

My party was shit on. The Gazebo type of shit.

—Endbar. See you all soon. Honestly, I’m not really a hero. Or a protagonist. I’m just Nobody like You. So, I want to ask again: what would you do if you were the last person on earth?