I woke up on some beach not being able to

I woke up on some beach not being able to recall what had happened the previous night. Not only was I alone but the beach was abandoned. My only question was "why"?

"Why was this beautiful beach abandoned and left at he mercy of nature? Why?" I then walked to the nearest pub, which was empty, and helped myself to a pint of Guinness

. I played a game of darts and since nobody was there, drafted another pint. The strom sirens were wailing and I could here the roar of the surf. Pickled eggs? Don't mind if I do.

I could get used to this "end of the world" business. Being in a pub by myself was seventh heaven. The door burst off the hinges. But nobody was there. Just the post-atomic winds

-urfing cockroaches. I had a policy of "live and let live" with them, seeing as how they were the only other creatures left living. I tossed them some bar circus peanuts and sang

rousing songs to the roaches in hopes they would rise up & slay the borrowers. Not because they were thieves, but because they were ginger. The roaches massacred them in grisly

frying pans. The gristle and grime caked on from years of restauraunt service has left a terrible grave for the gingers. Their beady eyes and probing antennae pulled the theives

Into the rat traps where Captain Egypt ate them. London was falling and couldn't get up, the tellie announced. The gingers ran out of the kitchen to freedom, never to be seen

dressed in layers and upon the balcony, plied the prime minister's wife with plum vodka and his shiny wit. They huddled against the wind and plotted his rise to prominence.