28 Minutes

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"DON'T FORGET TO CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1" Bellowed 'Captain Ladyfish', having just dragged the cadet back through the then successfully closed door, launching her tirade mere inches from from the poor recruit's ear.

"'kin ell!"

The recruit recoiled, clutching his skull as if it was being forced to create nuclear fission with only two match sticks and a lump of plasticene. "I'm deaf!" he mouthed as the matriach shut the door neatly into his face.

The recruit, a partial metaphor for myself was, funnily enough, called Dunkin. "HOW COINCEDENTAL!" he screamed randomly.

Dunkin had had enough. Ever since the sun had devoured the earth all knowledge, memory, and all prawn and cocktail flavourings of the civilisation it had held beforehand had been lost forever. The only survivors, members of 'The Huffy Mum's Answer for a Sororiety Club, but with Much Less Sex Appeal and surprisingly strong amounts of male genitalia', ... and Dunkin for some reason, had watched the blast from their new space station just beyond Saturn. It was designed personally by the Ladies Club so they could survey what everyone did on earth with eyeing contempt, then subsequentially hold inane discussions about it from automaticly Conservative and often slightly racist working class viewpoints. Initially things weren't too bad. The space station had it's own garden, and so long as no one went over the top they would have enough food, water and energy to survive there indefinately. The toilet paper was reusable and condoms weren't a problem because even the club mum's in their twenties had somehow managed to hit the menopause. However, the only controllable technology they had left was a DVD player, filled with nothing but old reruns of Loose Women. There had been a Lion King DVD too, but it had been thrown out into space by the mothers in hope it would reach an appropriate charity shop. This idea had strangely enough come about after Dunkin had voiced enthusiasm for watching it.

The DVDs quickly sent the women insane and within days Dunkin was the only one not insanely neurotic or brooding; something for which he was punished dearly. When they weren't berating his every movement as something they would have done differently or slapping him with their long penises, they were yelling at him that he was too inadequate to ever get married, and that his failure to do so totally had nothing to do with the fact all eligable females had had their skulls incinerated when the sun exploded.

"You're a failure Dunkin, an annoying eye raping failure. Every time I see you you make my skin crawl. The thought that something would ever allow someone as pathetic as you to exist has made me lose my faith in God, all of it. ALL OF IT. You make me sick, you make me actually physically sick! You're attitude is disgusting, and if it was a knife instead of a rolled up INANE! magazine in my hand I'd stab you with it. Purposefully and repeatedly where your balls should have been. And then you could have my balls, my big hairy balls, and you'd be somewhat closer to becoming a real man! Also, I was wondering if you could fetch me a cup of tea dear, I'm ever so parched."

"Yeah that's no problem."

"Oo you're a star."

This torture had gone on for almost a year. His every movement was watched and met with put downs of ever increasing ingenuity. The breaking point had come about a month ago when, worried Dunkin might be having too much fun for his own good they'd held him down and removed the part of his brain that controlled emotions of happiness and enjoyment (and unwittingly bowel control); a piece of neuro-anatomy they so desperately despised and refused pointblank to use.

He'd had enough. He needed to get out of this place. Stealing his mental piece from the mantal piece (oh how I jest) he'd told the ladies at the club he was moving out. Which brings us up to where we were to start with.

"DON'T FORGET TO CLOSE THE DOOR BEHIND YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1"

His ears throbbed like an erection overdosing on viagra, but his head was clear. He was free! He was at finally free, he at last had full control of his life! Until at least his oxygen ran out. But still, he was free! Free to do and say and think and hump whatever he liked ...for the next twenty eight minutes. He'd better make them last.

28 minutes

This was bliss, he could feel his self esteem returning to him. He didn't care that he was 27 minutes and a half, oop 29 seconds away from certain death. It was all worth it, just for this. Nothing could bring him down now, not even the slight gravity of the space station.

27 Minutes

He did some celebratoary flips and a figure of eight. The delirious feeling of wonder hadn't yet worn off. Had the world not been disintergrated by a burst of intense electromagnetic energy he'd be on top of it. There was always the moon, half of that was left. He fired up the jetpack.

26 minutes

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

25 minutes

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

24 minutes

Inflight meal time!

23 minutes

Hooray! He'd made it. He was over the moon. Dunkin laughed to himself, what a poor literal pun. He could just imagine the ladies readying their humourless gazes back at the space station. The space station. He couldn't let such a collective force of pure evil exist in the universe. But then again he had no right to murder a group of extremely arrogant huffy and annoying, yet holeheartedly innocent group of people.

22 minutes

He thought about it for a minute.

21 minutes

He had decided. He wouldn't be playing God if he destroyed the space ship, sure he'd be ending any chance of the human race's resurgence, but frankly, who cared? There weren't any well thought out people to argue with him, and any civilisation the ladies might eventually come to form would be so depressing and opinionated that it would end all point to the universe.

He had to do this, for the good of ma- ..... the only other life he knew of was small bacteria on Mars somewhere under the surface. "This is for you, whether or not your existance is ever confirmed or developed, may my actions bring you nothing but happiness."

20 minutes

He spent a whole longminute scratching his nads. It's amazing how difficult the space suit made it. Hey wow, the Lion King DVD had just floated next to him.

19 minutes

Right, he knew what he wanted to do. But how? How could he destroy an entire space station with nothing but a space suit, a jetpack and a Disney DVD.

18 minutes

Hmmm.

17 minutes

"..that ...could work"

16 minutes

"Nah."

15 minutes

"Ok got it!" Dunkin exclaimed. If he could get the Lion King DVD back onboard then perhaps he could cause a chain reaction that would lay waste to all onboard. But that was a whole three minutes jetpack away. He shouldered up his crotch, before realising that shouldering up a crotch is acutely painful and inadviseable. He screamed out in pain.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHATKILLSOHMYGODWILLITBEOKPLEASEBEOK!!!!!!"

Yeah, like that.

14 minutes

As he writhed around like an eel his jetpack went off and took him further away from the space station.

11 minutes

He was finally ok again, but he was now very far from the space station. There was only one thing to do. He took careful aim at the space station, now just a blip in the distance, positioned the jetpack to his abdomen and waited.

10 minutes

and waited.

9 minutes

and waited.

8 minutes

and ..... let the fart go.

7 and a half minutes

With all the methanlicious speed of global warming he slammed into the side of the space ship, breaking several ribs and losing an eyebrow. It was time to get to work. Parking in the docks he heaved a deep breath, and readied himself for the final time he'd have to endure these ladies. The airlock closed around him and he removed the suit, his severed genitals remaining in the lycra space trousers.

Did I mention, the time is suspended because he's not wearing the suit?

You got that anyway? Cool.

"I KNEW YOU'D COME CRAWLING BACK, YOU ALWAYS DO, MEN." "MEN" "WIPE YOUR FEET!" "BLOODY MEN, ALL THE SAME" "YOU'RE LATE!" "I HATE MEN! "WIPE YOUR FACE!" "FETCH ME A CUP OF TEA!" "I WISH I WAS A MAN" "WIPE YOUR WIPES!" "DON'T FETCH HER A CUP OF TEA!" "I MISS BEING A MAN" "YOU'RE THE REASON MY HUSBAND LEFT ME!" "SOMETHING ABOUT WIPES?" "NOW!"

Dunkin had been expecting this, and he was ready for it. With an almighty leap he jumped further than he'd ever jumped before, into the reverberating wave of instruction's slipstream. With the agility of a surfer he rode the wave right into the entertainment room. Nothing could stop him now.

"Hold it right there sonny, this is OUR entertainment room!" screeched one member. Dunkin shoved past her. "YOU BASTARD! COME BACK! YOU CAN'T JUST GO IN THERE! I'LL, I'LL GO ON JEREMY KYLE ABOUT IT! SCREW THAT, TRISHA! OK, NOT TRISHA BUT YOU GET MY POINT! COME BACK!"

But she couldn't make him come back, none of them could. He threw those that bothered to try and physically stop him like clothes before a shower. Some were even secretly impressed he'd developed a backbone. (His previous backbone was also on the mantel piece).

Snatching up the remote he put the DVD in. Lured in by the Jew bashing prospect of a Disney film (alright, so maybe I overly hate mothers, but hey, some Nazis were mummies too!) the ladies flocked around the screen, wide eyed with genuine wonder.

And then it came, the heart touching magic of the film. As Simba narrowly escaped from the Hyenas in the Elephants grave yard something curious happened. The mothers began to smile. Not just a little bit, a lot. They were happy. Genuinely happy. The children in them they'd long suppressed were beginning to come out. They shed aside their cynical contempt for life and their hearts began to melt.

"Awwwwww what a beautiful sight, moments like these are what, wait, what the- ?" said Dunkin, confused as the beaming group of mothers began to shake violently. "No!" the group started collapsing around him, each of them clutching their chest and frothing at the mouth. The Disney was too strong, it was literally melting their hearts. "No stop, don't do this, this was beautiful! I didn't mean this to happen! I just thought it'd jam in the DVD player and cause an explosion. Please don't die." He sobbed, trying desperately to block their view of the TV. But it was too late, the last of the group let out a girlish squeam and ceased moving. Tears were running thick and fast down Dunkin's face. What had he done?

And that's when the DVD jammed.

7 minutes

So here we are again, thought Duncan. Having just managed to get into his space suit he was now floating outside the remains of the space station, crying to himself. He was a murderer. And soon he'd get his comeuppance.

6 minutes

He knew he didn't deserve to, but Dunkin wanted to live. He wanted to start again, he wanted to give the human race, and it's mothers a second chance. He'd found a society on the bedrock of Disney, it would be a perfect eutopia, free from cynicism and negatvity.

5 minutes

The human race at it's fullest potential. His mother would be proud. Oh God, his mother...

4 minutes

Right. It was time to survive. Making sure he had as little fun as possible (as to slow time) he set to it. He was going to learn how to live without air. And he was going to learn it fast.

3 minutes

Hmppppph, hold it in boy. Hold it in boy. Hold it in. Shut up evolution, you can keep your millions of years of steady but slow advancement, this called for urgency.

2 minutes

He breathed out. This was useless, he was never any good at holding his breath. I guess this is it then. The dial began to flash red.

1 minute

During the final moment of humanity's existance Dunkin did one thing, and one thing only. He didn't panic, or swear. The finality of the situation had for some reason given him superhuman reasoning, which he reasoned would have been better replaced with superhuman breathing capabilities. But, he sighed, it had to be this way.

Over the next billion years the small bacteria under the surface of Mars evolved, evolved into people. The society they formed wasn't perfect, but it worked. Perhaps better than ours, perhaps not. One day a lump of debris crashlanded into a Martian's living room. It looked curiously like a life form, except metallic. Peering at the shattered space helmet they glanced quizzacly at something written in the condensation.

"Someone has drawn a penis on this space helmet." the alien remarked. The tip was blocked out by scorch marks from entering the (aritificial) atmospere and the pubic hair had been more of an afterthought. The alien looked at it sadly, lifting out his trousers and looking down at his smooth featureless crotch. "Wish I had me one of those."

0.5 minutes

This is the half-minute of the time of nothing. Everything was re-earsed. Being re-earsed means THE DESTRUCTION OF TIME ITSELF.