Forward to the Apocalypse

Miss Pomni has been many things in her surprisingly eventful life - both material and not so material. Caine in the “Digital Circus” could turn a person not only into a toy or a sofa, but also, for example, into a rather abstract concept of beauty. The main thing here is not to think about Mario*, otherwise you can end up with an extremely disgusting sound sequence, vaguely similar to the final stanzas of “The Hunting of the Snark”. If “The Hunting” was read by bats stuck in a drainpipe. Now she was almost ninety-eight percent herself - in her usual suit and hat, with a cup of something hot in her hands. She was sitting at a table lit by a single light bulb. Judging by her truly depressed appearance and the sadly hanging rope switch, she could very well be a relative of Gangle**. As for the table... Pomni inhaled with disbelief the aroma rising from the cup through her nostrils. On the pot-bellied porcelain side of the cup there was a drawing of a girl in a sweater with blue hair. It smelled like tea. One of those varieties of “Earl Gray” that could only be found on Earth, which had not yet been reached by all sorts of murder drones. Pomni took a sip of the drink and couldn’t help but let out a happy cry. 　　 Tea. The most real tea. Not something to all those tea-substitutes that were slipped to her throughout the entire trip Bubble in the dining room. — SUGAR? - came from the other side of the table. In front of the stranger, who clearly had an old-looking Kapitälchen***, stood a glass of milk. — No, thank you, - the jester responded and continued to enjoy the moment. Who knows when she will be lucky enough to taste tea again? - And you, actually?.. — We are recruiting trainees, - answered a tall woman with an unruly shock of fiery pink hair and a conversation that rang with the sound of a thousand battles. Pomni listened: apparently she had heard one of them quite recently. Or read about it in a school history textbook. The woman (probably, some people see her as a guy) sat down next to the milk lover, who still had his trademark wig on his head, and smiled. Her teeth reminded Pomni of the futility of existence and how easily this very existence can be interrupted. — “THE TWO HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE,” AGREE, DOESN’T SOUND VERY REPRESENTATIVE. Pomni took another sip, almost squinting with pleasure, and tried to remember everything she knew about the exit. It seems like it was supposed to open in October... Or has that already happened? — “THREE HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE” - ALSO NOT SO GOOD, BUT AT LEAST SOMETHING A START. — The others who were here took a vacation, - the pink woman (Pomni looked at her (or him?) again and decided that she could not be anyone other than the creator of the Digital Circus) drained a glass of melted spaghetti**** in one fell swoop, who managed to appear near their hand as if by magic. - Until farms run out. The Jester could almost hear a large golden brick wrapped in a slice of lemon (that's exactly the effect of melted spaghetti) falling somewhere in the middle of the Twenty-seventh World War. She hoped that the rest of the people were actually drinking cocktails somewhere in Taiwan, China or Australia. — I’m afraid my qualifications won’t be enough. — Probationary period, - said Gooseworx. — FORTY-TWO*****, Liam V. said. — I always thought the world would end in October, - Pomni muttered and carefully placed the cup with the blue-haired girl on the table, placing it next to a photo of a certain penguin in an elegant suit. Traces of real English tea are difficult to remove. — DRONES, CIRCUS AND OCTOBER. SOUNDS PERFECT. DON'T FORGET YOUR PENGUIN. — Wasn’t there a trainee rider named... Well, for example, Nativityscene? Or Sr. Pala? - jokes helped when communicating with about three percent of the population of the Universe. Pomni had no reason to exclude these showrunners from that three percent. — They were both crushed to death by a huge bill on the road. But then they called them, it seems, People Covered in Money. — IRONY. IRONY IS A PRETTY GOOD NAME FOR A HORSEMAN LIKE US. Pomni thought that this name would be perfect for N.****** 　　 Miss Pomni has seen many wonderful things - and sometimes events - in her life. For a while, she wasn't even the best girlfriend. Twice for a while. Being an assistant showrunner, was the "Horseman of the Apocalypse" she enjoyed being the most. In this position, she received not only a second chance to improve her life, the awe of millions of beings awaiting the Apocalypse, and an excellent, faithful horse, but also endless supplies of real tea. 　　 And she never dreamed of anything more on this planet, in this galaxy, all life.