The revelation of Britney Spears

     

             In the post-apocalyptic ruins of a most regrettable Tuesday, a frail blue eyed priest and an emaciated atheist named Henry were wrestling over the last object in the world, a shiny sealed new copy of Hit me baby one more time.

The priest was swinging wildly unhindered by the irony. "Give it back!" he growled, pummeling Henrys shoulders smartly. He couldn't bring himself to punch another man in the face even at a time like this. 
The old priest had some kind of right cross though, and Henry grimaced cradling the cd closer. Henry couldnt believe this was happening.
" Britney freaking Spears!" He kept muttering over and over.
" Britney freaking Spears!" He couldnt believe the priest wanted to save this stupid cd with the whole world in ruins. How could this thing have even survived? Everything in the whole world has been pummeled into atomic dust. Everyone has been killed except Britney freaking Spears and us!

The grey ash of human civilization was dancing in clumsy little circles around Henrys back." Get off of me!" Henry cried, forcing the priest to the ground. The priest blinked hazily as if waking from a dream. Henry rolled off of him letting the Cd fall between them. They both stared up silent into the gauze colored sky. They started howling with laughter. "Can you believe", the priest began, chuckling loudly.

"I know, I know its ridiculous." Henry added. They both sighed. The priest leaned forward hugging his knees and said, "So what do you think is the appropriate means of,"

        "Getting rid of this thing." Henry interrupted sitting up again. They huddled around the Cd as cold men do around a fire, Britney Spears manically happy grin leering up at them still provocative through the dust. She was the patron saint of all vixens.

"It just doesnt seem right."The priest began remorsefully.

            Henry groaned and turned away lost in thought. He thought of logic and science, of his years as a Chemist living in a lab coat, of Pascal and Galileo, Descartes and Mendalev, of Newton bending brilliant beneath an apple tree, Watson and Cricket pouring over a Petri dish tracing human history into a spiral of genetics and form, Oppenheimer and Einstein, Russell and Plank all conquering the universe with the weight of their will. He saw them in his mind and hated that Cd.

            The priest was still staring at it when Henry grabbed it and ran. The old father raced at Henrys heels images of his own burning in his brain, of Anslem and Aquinas, of liturgy and psalms, of Buddha preaching peace on a hillside, of rising steeples and courtyards, of the echo of feet against the floor of the Sistine chapel, of morning mass and vespers and a hundred million heads bowed in prayer.

            Some piece of it must be saved. He thought to himself as he overtook Henry and pulled him to the ground. There was a tumult of voices, of confusion and awkward violence. A grab, a hit, a brief surrender, and another noisy skirmish began again.

            The wind was covering them with dust. These were the last two members of the race called man, duking it out among the ash of their history for Britney Spears.