Writing Prompt: One of the laws of the universe: There is always a bigger fish.
The Universe is enormous, in fact the Universe may just be the biggest thing there is or ever was.
Hangloxin, a tiny waterborne microbe, were flopping about in a puddle, basking in the Suns of Omega-Delta-3.
It was a glorious life, in that overcrowded puddle. A puddle fit to burst with perhaps millions upon billions of these fine little critters, flailing about with their tenticular arms.
They loved that puddle, their puddle, and they loved the Suns of Omega-Delta-3, too. These microbes really couldn’t ask for anything more than to be left alone to get on with their splishing, their splashing, and of course their sploshing.
They named the puddle the Free World of Microbia, and managed a full seven minutes before puddle-ending event did occur.
Krepe Ulysses, a Driiglopag (imagine a cockroach painted red, with a third head, eighteen arms, and about the size of a small rat), was terribly thirsty.
Krepe had been scuttling across the dry and baron desert wastelands of Omega-Delta-3 for more months than he cared to admit. But as luck would have it, just as Krepe’s third and final head was ready to faint (which would have lead to full system failure, causing Krepe to slip into coma that would surely kill him) he stumbled upon a lovely looking puddle.
Am I hallucinating? Krepe wondered what hallucinating meant, then decided it was when you dream about something you want so badly that either a) your dreams come true or b) you slip into a coma so you can dream about this thing you want so badly for the rest of eternity (which for a Driiglopah amounts to about seven years).
Krepe flexed open the withering jaw of his third head, rolled out a pink carpet of tongue, and let it rest gently in the puddle, snaking down into the furthest depths of the waters.
Little did Krepe know, as he slurped and he gurgled and gulped down that puddle’s water, he was killing just shy of several billion tiny waterborne microbes. And if you listened carefully, you could hear their collective screams, each shouting… Gregwin?
Gregwin. The First Lord Mayor of Microbia. He’d been caught playing games with the Fourth Lord Mayor’s Cousin’s Wife, and so it came to reason that this apocalypse, this puddle-ending event, must have been sent to cleanse his unholy soul, and all of their’s along with it.
Krepe sucked dry every inch of water from that puddle, and let out a little sigh of satisfaction when he was done. The genocidal maniac. Content that he wouldn’t die for at least another eternity (which again amounted to about seven years), Krepe settled down in the shadow of the puddle that was, and fell asleep.
He slept for a full seven days before a Driiglopag ending event did occur.
Snot Slicker Primes always hunted in packs, not because they were particularly fearsome creatures, but for quite the opposite reason. They were… well, imagine if you will a garden gnome (we shall call him Harold); only Harold has forgotten to put on his pants, and grown an extra pair of arms from out his shoulders (for holding a second fishing rod, of course)…
Then, whilst Harold was passed out drunk from celebrations the night before (his Uncle’s Wife’s Sister’s Dog had been neutered that day, hence the celebrations), his friend had managed to sneak into his room and went about drawing wide circles in blue pen all over his face, then decided to dye poor Harold’s hair and beard a bright neon blue to match.
Got that? Good. Now if you can imagine the complete opposite of what I’ve just described that still wouldn’t look a thing like a Snot Slicker Prime.
The Snot Slicker’s were searching the desert wastelands for food. Their stomachs were grumbling, limbs trembling, faces generally looking awfully exhausted, frightened and hungry all at the same time. They were very close to giving up the goose, crawling back into their shells, and hibernating until death would come to take them. That’s when they spotted a plump (perhaps from all the water retention) figure on the near horizon.
“Is that a Driiglopag?” one asked.
“I think it is!” another cried, scaring itself in the process.
“Looks real juicy.” a third licked its lips, and instantly regretted it.
“No, not juicy.” a fourth sighed, “Looks like water retention to me.”
“Can’t be.” the third said smugly, “Ain’t a puddle for miles around, and I would know.” it wiggled its nose in the air, showing off the short hairs biologically engineered to detect puddles with a success rate of fifty percent (that is to say, when this particular Snot Slicker said there was or wasn’t a puddle, there was a fifty percent chance it was either right or wrong).
The pack of roaming Snot Slickers sluggishly pulled their way across the sands, lying flat on their growling stomachs (a predatory tactic, the growling amplified by their concave bellies to make them sound more alike some gargantuan beast than a mere pack of Snot Slicker Prime).
By the time the Snot Slicker’s were upon the Driiglopag it was too late for Krepe to escape.
Poor Krepe had started to stir from his water induced slumber, but before the lids of his eyes could barely even lift to see them coming, the Snot Slicker’s had piled over him, and were tearing him apart.
“Delicious!” one cried, blood dribbling down its chin.
“Sublime!” another argued, blood trickling from its ears.
“Divine!” a third (the same third as before) echoed with glee.
“Alright, that’s enough. the fourth warned, “Don’t you know it’s rude to talk with your mouth full?”
When all was said and done the Snot Slickers were well fed and already burrowing their way back underground to rest.
They made it approximately half a mile underground before a Snot Slicker ending event did occur…
I could go on, I could take us through to world ending events and galaxy wide catastrophes, but for now I’ll say only this;
The Universe is enormous, that much is true. So remember kids, there’ll always be a bigger fish to fry (if you have enough batter, that is).
Copyright © K R Perry 2019