The Vatican
A ngelo trudged over to his drunken friends, swaying like Jack Sparrow, out to the balcony. He had no issues with addressing the people while he was drunk out of his mind. They’d got used to it. Outside, he was surprised he saw no one. The piazza was empty.
“No one believes in the lord anymore, these days,” he swayed and gulped again.
He rubbed his eyes, wondering where everyone had gone. But then again, wasn’t it clear? Everyone went to kill the Inklings. The fact that a few bad words about a person in the news would turn them into a public enemy within seconds unsettled him a little.
Not that the Cheshire cared, but humans were so strange. Maybe that was part of why he hated them. Strange creatures. Judgmental. Prejudicing, and with an uncanny lust for blood. You just have to convince yourself you’re the good one, and the others are the bad ones, and you’re good to go and shoot them.
The Cheshire took another drink. The bottle was empty. He looked at it, hating it for a moment. A hallucinatory moment with a bottle.
“I hate you,” he told it. “How come they haven't invented bottles that don’t empty yet,” he raised a finger and said, “Ah, I know why. People would drink themselves to death then.”
He rested his hands on the balcony and addressed the emptiness, “Can anyone get me a bottle of wine at least?”
His voice echoed to the emptiness. It sucked that there wasn’t enough to drink in the end of the world. He turned back inside and saw the TV was still on. The same reporter was announcing that the authorities have located the Inklings’ whereabouts. An anonymous person had called them. The police were on their way to get them.
The Cheshire laughed out loud, hands on his stomach. “I love the news. They’re just sending out a message for the Inklings to escape.”
He sat down and shut off the TV. The whole thing about the end of the world wasn’t as satisfying as he had wished. This wasn’t painful enough for the humans he hated. It sucked when the movie you’ve waited for so long ends up being a letdown.
“Maybe I have to reside to the form of a cat again,” he told himself. “Find some kid in a wealthy family and seduce her into sheltering me. Let her feed me and live the boring life of a cat. I could get so fat, eating so much.”
He leaned his head back on the couch. His eyes were beady, encouraging sleep. As they closed, he remembered how the world sucked without the Pillar. Humans were boring. The Pillar wasn’t. He hated him but loved him as well.
“Oh, man,” Angelo slurred. “Blowing up the Queen’s head was so funny,” he began snoring, a few last words pooling out of his drooling mouth. “Unlike what you had done to her sister. Man, that was so evil, even by my standards.”