TIM SEVENHUYSEN: Don’t Call Me Savior

Our Hero stood resolute in the middle of the rain-soaked, corpse-littered asphalt.

Zombie earthworms.

They inched closer, exuding sinister inevitability, crushed, broken, bloated, wasting away, and hungry.

Our Hero calmly set a bowl of oatmeal on the ground, flavouring it with his own blood.

That should keep them. For now.

I asked, on Twitter, what I should write a fifty-word story about today. @dotsam wrote, “Saving the universe with a bowl of oatmeal.” @RacoonResidue wrote, “Zombie earth worms.”

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