âArchy and Mehitabel: The Sequelâ
(With apologies to Don Marquis)
*
ARCHY the cockroach crawled slowly from his hiding place under a sink and looked outside. There was devastation everywhere: burned-out buildings, fallen skyscrapers, craters a mile deep and no sign of life. A soft wind blew smoke and dust through the dark air, creating the effect of a midnight sun.
He sighed deeply and said aloud, âThey finally did it to themselves.â He remembered quite clearly having read that Armageddon wasnât far away. This was its terrible consequence.
âWho did what to themselves?â a voice from behind the house said.
It sounded like ... no, it couldnât be!
âGet me out of here, you miserable little cockroach!â
Mehitabel the cat!
Archy rushed to the sound of her voice, which came from a garbage can behind the house. There was a banging from inside the can and suddenly the lid popped open.
âThanks for the help,â Mehitabel said sourly, shaking herself. Bits of coffee grounds and Parmesan cheese clung to her orange striped fur.
âNow whatâs going on here, Archy?â
âYouâre alive!â
âDo I look like a ghost, you silly bug?â She looked around. âWho on earth did all this? If you caused this mess by chewing up ... â
âIâve told you a thousand times, Mehitabel, Iâm not a termite. I donât chew things up. Well, little bits of food maybe, but not buildings. Itâs what they did to themselves. It was the war.â
âA war?â she said, not quite understanding.
Mehitabel knew her alley well, and a lot of tomcats who lived there, but not the outside world. Archy, on the other hand, a true intellectual, lived in a newspaper cafeteria. At night he would sneak up to the empty newsroom and jump on computer keys to call up stories and learn of the worldâs unhappy situation.
âIf it was a war,â Mehitabel said, âwho won and where are they?â âNo one won,â Archy said sadly. âWe are in a post-apocalyptic time.â
Mehitabel reached over and gave him a swat that sent poor Archy flying off the garbage can lid and onto a pile of scorched soup cans.
âDonât double-talk me, you nasty little cockroach! Someone always wins a war!â Mehitabel prepared to swat him again.
âNot this one,â Archy replied. There were tears in his eyes. âThey killed each other. They bombed us and we bombed them and they bombed us more and then they bombed each other and we bombed them both and they united to bomb us again and we bombed them ... and now this.â
Noticing the tears, Mehitabel withdrew her paw. She felt true affection for Archy, despite his ugliness and his uppity ways. âEveryone? That was truly dumb, Archy. Why in Godâs name would they do that?â
â âIn Godâs nameâ was part of it,â Archy said, shaking his head. âReligion, power, greed, arrogance ... â He paused. âAll this was bound to happen sooner or later.â
âAnd thereâs just us?â Mehitabel asked, beginning to get it. âA cat and a dirty little cockroach?â
âEven thatâs strange,â Archy said thoughtfully. âI can understand me surviving because cockroaches are built for eternity. But an oversexed alley cat?â He shrugged. âItâs funny. Everyone was always worried that âthe other sideâ was going to come up with the ultimate weapon. Then together they came up with a doomsday creation that would end human life on the planet.â
âWhat kind of bomb was it?â
âHatred,â Archy said, shaking his head.
âYouâre not making any sense, you muddled little bug!â Mehitabel stretched and yawned. Then, whipping her tail, she began walking away. âKilling everybody makes no sense, Archy. No sense at all.â
âThatâs just it.â He followed her, rushing to keep up. âIt doesnât. And now everyoneâs gone. The species committed suicide.â
They passed a row of burned-out cars and the charred skeletons of what had been human beings. Ahead they could see the shattered hulk of the newspaper building and a debris-choked Shinbone Alley that Mehitabel had called home.
âIf what you say is true, Archy, then weâre sort of Adam and Eve.â She swung around suddenly and faced him, teeth bared, ears flattened. âBut Iâm not having babies with you, you crawly little insect!â
For the first time, Archy managed a wry grin. âThat wouldnât be possible anyhow, Mehitabel. Trans-species procreation just doesnât work.â
âAll I know is Iâm not sleeping with a bug! No offense, Archy, but I have my priorities.â
Suddenly there were meows from around a corner, and out stepped a group of cats! Mehitabel rushed over, at last with her own kind. Archy backed away. He could see by their hostile expressions they did not share Mehitabelâs tolerance toward his kind. Mehitabel immediately took up with a large, scarred tom.
âMaybe Iâll see you sometime, Arch,â she said, sashaying away with her new friends, but he knew that it would probably never be.
Oh, heâd find more cockroaches, of that he was certain. They were survivors. But they would be enemies, her kind and his, of that he knew. It just seemed the way of living things.
âHere we go again,â Archy said to himself with deep sadness, making his way through the smoke and the darkness. âHere we go again.â
Al Martinezâs column appears Mondays and Fridays. He can be reached at [email protected].
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