Dear Planet Earth,
Itâ€™s been a long time coming, butÂ Halston and Karter finally gave us some training with rifles. Iâ€™m surprised how easy it really is to use these things. Granted, we only got the most basic of basics in the hour-long crash course, but itâ€™s still clearly unnerving that these weapons â€” created exclusively toÂ kill people â€” can be used by ten-year-old girls.
â€œI got it! I killed him!â€Â Rachel shouted with glee. The scattered remains of Justin Bieberâ€™s head blew over the edge of the hotel.
â€œYou sure did,â€ Karter said. He grinnedÂ mischievously and yelled, â€œSome of you got a real knack for this.â€
I narrowed my eyes on Jennifer Lopez, pointed my weapon on her iconic legs, up to her perfectly sculpted chest, just under her pink lips that definedÂ pouty.
â€œThatâ€™s right, man. Just below the chin.â€ Karter came behind me and matched his own line of sight with mine. â€œLet the rifle do the work for you. Let it move just â€“â€
I coughed, rubbed my shoulder, and waved away the thin layer of smoke before me â€” only to see a perfectly intact Jennifer Lopez staring right back at me.
â€œJesus,â€ Randall whispered nearby. Directly in front of him lay the stiff bodies of Stephen Spielberg, Nicole Kidman, and Audrey Hepburn. â€œWell, keep at it.â€
A few yards away from him, Maria stood over Denzel Washington and Johnny Deppâ€™s obliterated figures. She examined the areas that were once elaborate eye sockets and nasal passages.
â€œDie, motherfucker!â€ screamed Rachel. And Samuel L. Jacksonâ€™s intimidating frame toppled after a few deafening clicks.
Karter put a hand on my shoulder. â€œYou got this, man. Donâ€™t overthink it.â€
I tried not to think of anything, tried to push away the memories of everyone Iâ€™d lost and everything Iâ€™d never have. Parents, friends, college, career â€” only dreams now in a world the mole men have turned into a hopeless nightmare.
I scanned theÂ globs of wax that once looked like Jennifer Lopez and grinned.
Resist the mole men invasion at Beneath Average