Everyone is happy, lounging around like it’s a normal day just going about everything as normal. No worries, or cares just being themselves, creamy filling and a soft fluffy yellow cake
coating. My wife, and kids don’t even know what’s going to happen. I’m the only one. My brothers, my sisters, my parents, my grandparents. They don’t even know what’s coming towards them. No one. I
can’t tell them what I’ve heard. They won’t believe me. They’ll think it’s a joke. They’ll think i’m a fake. The crazy creamed filled food running around saying we're going to die.
They’ll laugh at me. Even though I heard them. The creators, talking and stirring around to decide our fate beyond the life that we’ve know for as long as we’ve been alive. It’s sad to see all these happy little golden children in their happy families unsuspecting of what will come. What will happen. What is going to happen.
I’ve got to make a choice keep this disaster to myself. Keep it locked away deep inside my cream filling, and just for everyone to find out and freak out. Nobody knowing what move to make next, the whole world set into anarchy and chaos. All sparked because of a few words spoken. I can’t do that. These happy people, full of life. They can’t handle hearing the news. The news of us. What’s happening to us. Were the last left of our kind. Productions canceled, our homes being foreclosed on, nowhere to go, food for us and our kin will be gone before we know it. No more water for us. I’ve got to tell them. I’ve got to get to them and let them know. So they can prepare in advance.
However, these people what can they provide. Were nothing but mere snack cakes. Why would people want us more than anything. Well we have been around since 1930. So we have been the mainstay of everyone’s junk food diet. Some horrid people even fry us for Ding Dongs sake.
Maybe, just maybe something won’t happen. Maybe all this is just imagination, or I could be crazy. Though, I did see those men leave on strike. So maybe i’m not crazy. This could be for real. No one else has mentioned anything else about this so I could be mad.
But wait...It’s already begun. Less people have showed up to the factories. Someone else has probably already told someone, and they might have told someone else too. Now let me go do it now. Here I go. Outward into the world, I must go tell these people. Prepare them for the end of us. The end of our era. The end of us Twinkie's.
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Short Story / Other
Short Story / Other
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