I Will Fly You To The Heaven

    Spending the day soaking in the rays--not that there is another way to experience the weather here now--two lovers were sitting atop the plane's left wing. It was a relic of a long-off time mostly forgotten, as only the remnants of an old world give any truth to the tale, and this scrapped empty hull of a flying fortress was from an age before the Great Waste.
    A boy takes off his right catskin sock and throws it at a girl. It just seems like the thing  to do; hoping to provoke a fight to kill off the latent boredom that piled up late in the day.
    And who's going to tell you not to, the shambling ones don't talk and the living don't waste their time on punk-kids who may not live to see their next bowel movement.
    The sock finds its way back to the boy, wadded into a ball and striking his ear. This is the sign of a challenge accepted. Swords drawn, meaning nails bared, the tangle begins, the pulling of hair and the grabbing of limbs and the biting of skin.
    To anyone passing by, this roughhousing would look no different than the struggle for life against death. Not that life nor death got noticed much now.
    No less than twenty strands of hair are ripped from the scalp of the girl who takes a significant amount of skin off the back of the middle finger of a boy using his knee to shove the girl shooting for his waist who succeeds in grabbing a scrap of cloth and pulling the boy towards her as his flailing of hands signals a panic of possibly losing this one, clawing at her face and opening scars on her cheeks not yet healed, though done in futility when the girl butts the head that has twenty less hairs into the boy's groin, causing a moan and knocking him over to end the fight, but not before the girl's foot finds the soft spot between the boys legs a few more times as vengeance for starting the squabble in the first place.
    But this sort of thing is normal now. They'll probably be right back to breeding after the pain wears off the boy's parts.
    Before he can get back up, she slams him into the crushed, crashed seat of the cockpit of the plane that, unknown to them, dropped the bomb that ignited the war that ended the world.
    "I will fly you to the heaven!" she bellowed, with a final blow to the trouser snake, doubling the boy over in the seat where once a pilot lit the fuse that would consume it all, meaning she won for today.
    Who knows what will happen tomorrow.