With 150 words, this week we had to write a story about someone who believes they’re the last person on Earth.

The mutated virus was designed to move quickly. It did. Within eight months, every primate within 150 miles of a metropolis was dead. It was designed to be carried by the rain. It did. Within three years, it had reached every remote area on Earth. It was designed to self-destruct after five years. It did.

The cryogenic chamber of Dr. Jesus DeJesus was designed to reanimate him after five years, two days (just to be safe). It did.

With his usual aplomb, he confirmed the security of his station, verified the success of the virus, and consumed a peanut butter sandwich. Six minutes and fifty-two seconds into his new life, his dream was almost complete.

With trepidation, he entered the Nursery. Still humming away were two-hundred cryogenic chambers, each containing a woman deemed genetically superior. His genetically enhanced sex organ was designed to triumph at this very moment. It…didn’t.

K: I can’t stop giggling at this. This is one of the best tragedies we’ve ever had, and one of the most pathetic characters. DeJesus’s commitment to a new world where he’s awesome followed by a wave of death that does nothing but lead to his own failure…this is triggering all my funny fuses. GOLD

DK: Honestly, reading this one after those two is when I wondered if my gendered perspective was excessively skewing my judgment of these, since I found almost all of this one really funny and interesting as a concept. SILVER

MG: Cue that sad trombone! This one was a hoot, acknowledging its own jokey elements as it went along, right up to that last dry punchline. I giggled.

That was fun.

Once again, Liam Neeson’s Walrus eked out a 2nd place finish among the four teams, barely avoiding having to eliminate anyone. Two eliminations happened, bringing the total number of players down to 22. Next week’s challenge is Bantam Bulwyr, where we must write the worst possible opening to a novel.