The winner

The winner sat in the dust.  His final foe vanquished.

While the title fight was ultimately to be “the last surviving human on planet earth”, the bout also had an undercard over an old package of Debby’s powdered donuts. After the blood and mayhem, the winner felt they tasted great, though admittedly his lack of saliva from dehydration made them very dry and virtually impossible to swallow.

Was he happy? Not really. He was still in the adrenaline fueled amped up intensity phase of his victory.  He had the shakes and was only now starting to lose the intense tunnel vision these violent situations created.  

He was also now, for the first time ever, at a point of impasse. As there was, for all manners of speaking, no point to him anymore.  

Yes, he was the winner.  The last one standing.  No one left but him. But that also meant there were no crowds.  No seascape of adulation for his spectacular feat.  No podiums with masses gathered from which he could render a victory speech about how we was the greatest ever. Last one standing. Who could say such a thing?

Only him.

For he was, quite literally, the last man standing on the speck of dust floating and rotating through space. The last in a millennia of meaningless winners.