Eva Moe

Category: Stories

Short stories, fiction

  • Eleven Neighbors

    Everyone in the house had made their own private arrangements. Within the last year, seven had purchased a bottle of alcohol for the occasion, all of which are now open. Nine had saved a day off work, the other two already work from home. All eleven are in the front hall now, laughing with each other, wetting the old rugs with champagne.

    The stage hand takes batteries out of the smoke detectors while the substitute teacher carries a ladder for her. The front and back doors are propped open. Everyone on the ground floor pulls chairs from their apartments to make a circle in the lobby. There’s a speaker bumping the playlist made for this moment.

    Joints and bongs pass around and everyone claims not to be sick, but this is the kind of thing they’d all get sick for anyway. In celebration.

    They plan for a bonfire that weekend. American style, hotdogs and beer and weed for everyone. Talking about it keeps the thrill alive, and everyone’s jokes are funny no matter what is said. But the real celebration must be fresh. The real celebration is now.

    It happened around 1:30 in the morning. Five of them were still awake, and each recounted their stories. Which chair they were sitting on when they heard the news, what song was playing, their initial disbelief. The others woke to knocks on their doors and the sound of cheering.

    There is no need to rest tonight. All there is to do is laugh and share whatever’s in your fridge.

  • Boiling Frogs in The Kitchen

    There’s a new Animal Farm. One that’s bigger and better than all other Animal Farms you may have heard about. This one is in a big beautiful room called The Kitchen and today is soup day. The Claw Machines are all over the ceiling, whizzing about (it’s very exciting, nobody has Claw Machines like this, they’re the best in the world). They pick up a big batch of frogs and put them in a metal pot on the stove. Some frogs try to stop this, but those frogs are ugly. Don’t be ugly.

    There’s an old saying, “the frog doesn’t know it’s being boiled alive until it’s too late.” But that is a very stupid saying, and anyone who uses it is dumb and should die. That’s because all frogs know they’re being boiled alive. They like it! They really do, some of them even beg for it.

    “I don’t want to be soup today!” Ribbet cries. Ribbet’s always crying because he’s a loser.
    “You make everything about you,” Swatter says. She tells it like it is.
    “It’s terrible they put us in here,” Frog Leader sighs. He had another name before, but all frogs who are elected must change their name to Frog Leader and forget themselves.
    “But they’re just doing their jobs,” Swatter shrugs. Frog Leader agrees, reminding everyone it’s good for the economy.

    Ribbet hops around the pot, totally unaware of how many other frogs he’s splashing with hot water. “Maybe we could hop out and try to avoid certain death?” he suggests. Ribbet is very stupid and inconsiderate by the way, if it wasn’t clear already. He’s also a terrorist.
    “Don’t hop out!” Frog Leader yells. “That’s what they want! But more importantly, it’s illegal.”

    Ribbet is pretty sure the Claw Machines, or whoever controls them, do not want the frogs to jump out, and that’s why it’s illegal to do so. If they jump out, they might live. And you can’t live for your farm. You can only die for it. Living is unpatriotic.

    Swatter calms everyone with her impressive logic. She says it’s a lot cozier to be boiled alive than to risk a Claw Machine. They all spend the rest of the afternoon debating, until they stop talking altogether.

  • The Enemies of a Peace Treaty: Chapter 1

    Perhaps beaming myself into a public place wasn’t the best idea. In my defense, these people weren’t supposed to be here. 

    The old guy kicked my knee. “How are we supposed to believe you’re from the future?” he asked. 

    They’ve been asking me this for about an hour. Only a few people saw me enter this timeline, but one of them had a camera. Soon, I was tied to a garden bench encircled by a small crowd.  

    “I’ve been a light harvester for my whole life. Okay, since I was thirteen. When y’all ruined the Earth in 2020 during the flu, or what was it called? The Pandemic. Right. And this is still called America. Anyway the American government nearly ruined the Earth, killing millions of people. There was some sort of explosion, forgive me, history isn’t my best subject. 
    “Anyway, Americans were allowed outside during the Pandemic just as people were starting to feel better. That was in May 2020. Then, millions of people died in a week.”

    The oldest of the group gaped at me. “Then let’s stop that from happening! May 2020 is only six months from now. We have time!” 

    I laughed and shook my head. “I’m not here to stop the pandemic. That’s a great example of what we call a Fixed Event. Something so important to history that no matter what anyone does, it’ll happen again and again.” 

    “That makes no sense, if we just told the government-” 

    “Gonna stop you right there,” I said. “The government doesn’t care. Your government and people have been molded in place for hundreds of years just for the event to occur.” 

    Everyone was silent. I knew I shouldn’t be telling them all this. But I just couldn’t help myself.  “Once it became clear that humanity would overpopulate themselves at too fast a rate, mass extinction was inevitable.” There are other reasons, but let’s just say I don’t know about them.

    “If you’re not here to stop the pandemic,” Someone asked. “Then why are you here?”

    I sighed. Everyone back home was right. These people were really dumb. Maybe it’s just Americans? “I’m here to stop the Peace Treaty of 2026.” 

    to be continued

  • The Attack of the Quarantine Karens

    On April 20, 2020, three Karens from different cities in the United States of America banded together. Their mission was to open every non-essential business across America. But their bond went deeper than their selfish need for haircuts. Yes. Though their gray roots sprouted several inches past their usual bleach session, what brought them together was their collective need to scream at anyone who made less money than them. 

    The three Karens drove from all across the country to get to Minneapolis, Minnesota. One came from Denver, Colorado. One came from Lansing, Michigan. And the final Karen hailed from Atlanta, Georgia. 

    “You liberal scum you leotard hangliding riff raff scallywag yellowbelly mommy yupping gum cock,” They chanted collectively under their breath. “You’ll never tell me what to do. Not ME. My body. MY rights.” They went through this long bizzare phrase until they blushed with fatigue. 

    “Governor Tim Walz will not let these ladies get haircuts,” said Lansing Karen, motioning to her surroundings. The streets were empty, save a few cars. 

    “Our government is losing its mind,” Atlanta Karen said. “All we need to do is get Trump down here and fix everything.” 

    Just then, a popping sound echoed through their empty heads. 

    “What is this?” Denver Karen pushed her gooey fingers into her ears.

    “It’s like Pop Rocks!” Atlanta Karen screamed. “I only know because my 37 year old son eats them everyday with his breakfast. He’s a strong boy, he really is.” 

    “MAKE IT STOP,” Bellowed Lansing Karen, clutching her ears. 

    “You cannot make it stop,” came a loud voice from below. The three Karens looked down. At their feet stood an army of 1-inch creatures. There must’ve been a few hundred of them. Their bodies were neon green and smooth. The army took up the same space as two standard-size SUV tires (new tires, like from a lease). 

    “Only we can stop it,” said the creature. With that, he snapped his tiny fingers and the popping noise stopped. 

    Atlanta Karen put her hands on her hips and narrowed her beady eyes. “And who do you think you are, exactly?” 

    “We are the virus,” he replied. “And unfortunately for everyone here, nature is healing.” 

    The three Karens signed the cross, turned in a circle and spit. “You can’t say those words here!” 

    “My name is Covid,” continued the 1-inch creature. He gestured to his army, “And these are the Chads. We can help you three brave women achieve your goals. You want to dye those roots? Done. You need to pick up some overly-religious birthday cards for your gay niece in a longrunning effort to smack the devil out of her? Done. You want to drink vodka sodas at your favorite tiki bar? Done. All we need is one small favor.” 

    The three karens turned to each other in a huddle. All three heads touched, though their hair was sharpened with copious amounts of hairspray and poked each other’s eyes. They finished their muttering and turned to Covid, crossing their arms. 

    “We’re going to need to speak to your manager,” They said in unison, turning up their noses. 

    Covid furrowed his brows. “That’s obviously me,” he snapped. “I literally just said…nevermind.” 

    At this, a seething rage went through all three karens. So strong that their bodies lifted into the air as a single thought raced through them. How dare this tiny neon asparagus head talk to me like this. The tone! 

    —

    Long story short, Chad and the Covids took over the brains of the three Karens, who in turn rounded up an angry mob of dumbasses. They all became infected, millions of people died. Fortunately, most of these deaths were the dumbest and greediest people on the planet. This has positively affected the bell curve of idiocy. Humanity is collectively more intelligent now. 

    Once Chad and the Covids succeeded in reducing overpopulation by way of eliminating evildoers (their true goal all along), they sunk back into the Earth and became seeds. Over the next few years, humanity saw a surge of beautifully tall trees pop up all over the world, one by one. 

    You want to know about the other people who needlessly died because of the Karens? They were some of the kindest and hardworking people humanity had. Doctors, nurses, grocery store clerks, garbage handlers. Their names are engraved in glass sculptures all over the world.