There’s no use trying to describe it without eventually and simply leading up to the fact that Joel contracted frostbite from a flower he found on his friends-and-family trip to Hawaii, just before coming to Antarctica, just before having to eat his friends and family.

Now he was the last cannibal left, and he was worried that when he died there’d be no one left alive to eat him.

First nuclear bombs happened.

Then it’s just everything was gone.

Then everyone left ate ergot.

Terrifying visions of how great things were back then before all that soon passed and out of nowhere whoever was left wanted to learn how to play the piano with a sledgehammer.

They were teenagers, or thereabouts, and a guy in maybe his mid-twenties named Luke.

Joel looked at them.

He was starting to like Luke, but he was really starting to like the teenagers.

Joel looked at them and all he could think about was eating them.

There were a few females, and he thought about fucking them, getting them pregnant so they could give birth to next year’s crops.

Joel felt the weight of everything, the randomness of place and circumstance and him and Luke being the last people alive, him being the last cannibal, after the teenagers fell through a crack in Antarctica’s surface.

Now there was nothing to do but lay there, grow some antlers.

That’s what Joel and Luke did.

They grew some antlers.

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