Unbeknownst to an unsuspecting 2017, slothfully spread upon it’s decrepit couch sewn by the blood of dead celebrities and a bevy of Russian twitter bots, 2018 was crafting it’s violence in the kitchen away from the prying eyes of both years party guests. “It must be done.” 2018 said to itself, eyeing the dozens of celebratory bottles of champagne stacked along its hip new concrete counter tops.
It took a deep breath, snatched the closest bottle, popped the cork and chugged it’s contents, then smashed the end of the bottle on the edge of the counter and said, “Let’s do this.” Then it made it’s way to the living room where 2017, unmoved from its filth, said “Hey bro! Just in time to watch the ball drop, am I right? I got some nattys if you want one. We should invest in Bitcoin. Are we still boycotting the NFL? Blue lives matter and all but I want to watch the…”
Then as the clock struck midnight and all the guests cheered and kissed and drank their champagne, 2018 cut its siblings words short, jabbing the jagged edge of the bottle into it’s throat. 2017 let out gurgle imitating words cut short as 2018 rose the bottle and jabbed again, and again, and again, until all the life and evil warmth that was 2017 exited from the year and soaked into what would be it’s funeral pyre of a couch.
The crowd stood in stunned silence. Then one lone “Whoop” ushered the rest of the crowd into generous applause as they hoisted 2018 above their shoulders as their beloved savior.
At first light they carried the couch down to the nearest drainage ditch, 2017s blood now a dried sticky stain gripping its corpse like Velcro to the cushions, where they set it afloat as well as afire and watched the smoking trash heap fade into the sunrise until someone said, “Everything is going to be just fine, just fine indeed.”
I wrote this on New Years Eve with the plan of submitting it to some satire sites but realized I was a bit late for any chance of it being published. So instead I thought I’d post it on my website and let y’all either somewhat enjoy it or absolutely despise it. Technically this is the first piece of fiction or satire I’ve shared.