My friends and lovers

The Army

I stood beside the bed of my husband as he drew his last breath, dictating the last of his fortune to me. His son stood beside me, thinking that I would share my wealth with him because of that one summer in 2056. Little did he know, that my army of rats were soon to rise.

My husband 's cough clashed in his lungs, and I held his hand as he smiled up at me. My dear husband, who I had married only two weeks only after learning of his £560 billion fortune, was soon to die. I wept silently, knowing that his dead fumes would ruin my Gucci. But Jeffere would help me become the first Louis Vuitton bag anyway, because gender less aliens are so last year.

My child, Onion, burst into the room. I do not know who her father is. Maybe it was the mailman, maybe it was that random man in Waitrose, maybe it was the butler or maybe it was Jesus. But she born nonetheless, my sole heir as long as she proved herself in a fight to the death.

I held her hand as my husband's eyes finally closed, his body stinking way and ruining my makeup as well as my Gucci. The son turned to me, smiling, before a snake ran up and crushed his head with a baseball bat. Onion watched in solemn silence, knowing that I was now unstoppable.

The metal clang from the pipes filled the room as my army poured in, setting upon the dead corpses already. I saw them in the window =, running to the distance, ready to claim Europe for me. A carriage arrived, pulled by a million of them, just like the one I rode to Prom.

The world was over. Doomsday was upon them. And I would rise from the remains to claim all as my Empire.