He groaned in satisfaction. From his low perspective, he stared out the window to an unobstructed view of blue sky.

“What is that, the second time today?”

He closed is eyes, hoping to shut out the low, criticizing voice from the other side of the apartment.

“Not that it’s the end of the world if you keep doing that, I just think you could find a more productive use of your time.”

“Please stop judging me.”

“Because my judgment isn’t a mirrored reflection of your own self-hatred?”

He opened his eyes and looked across the small room at the Ironic Zombie Puppet lying on the furniture that barricaded the front door. The Ironic Zombie Puppet lay flat on its back with its head facing the Puppeteer. It was a macabre representation of a rotting corpse. The left eyeball hung from its socket while the cloudy right eye stared intently at the Puppeteer.

Suddenly self-conscious, the Puppeteer tucked himself away and zipped his threadbare pants.

“What, are you shy now? You know I’ve seen worse.”

“Shut up.”

“Says the man responsible for everything I say.”

The Puppeteer stood from the tattered easy chair and shuffled to another corner of the tiny apartment, hanging his head to avoid the gaze of the Ironic Zombie Puppet.

“I wish you would stop trying to run from me. You have no place to go. Unless, of course, you want to go outside.”

“I’m not going outside.”

“Are you scared to go outside?”

The Puppeteer spun around to face the Ironic Zombie Puppet, anger burning his face. “Of course I’m scared! What the fuck am I supposed to do?! There’s nothing out there but death!”

“There’s nothing in here, with specific regards to your sanity.”

The Puppeteer shook his head and began pacing. “No. No, this has to be better. I can make the food last a few more days. And it might rain soon, so I can collect more water. This has to be better.”

“Better than what?”

“Better than what?! Going outside, you fucking ass!”

“Calm down, now. Do you need to jerk off again?”

The Puppeteer stopped pacing and looked at the Ironic Zombie Puppet, a thought flashing through his head. “Stop judging me,” he growled.

“Says the man responsible for everything I say.”

The Puppeteer took a step towards the Ironic Zombie Puppet, his eyes growing dark.

“I hope you’re not planning on doing anything stupid.”

“Stop judging me,” the Puppeteer threatened again.

“Or what?”

The Puppeteer grabbed the Ironic Zombie Puppet tightly. 

“What are you doing?”

“STOP JUDGING ME!”

The Puppeteer hurled the Ironic Zombie Puppet at the window where it bounced and fell to floor. The Puppeteer’s chest heaved as he stalked over to the window.

“That was unnecessary.”

The Puppeteer unlocked the window and lifted it. Fresh air wafted into the stuffy apartment and with it came an inhuman stench. From somewhere below, there was a distinct glurping.

“What are you doing?”

“Ending this.”

The Puppeteer grabbed the Ironic Zombie Puppet for the last time.

“This won’t solve anything.”

“No, but it’ll make me feel better.”

“If you want to feel better, why don’t you just jerk off again?”

The Puppeteer stared at the fake-rotting latex face of the Ironic Zombie Puppet and found himself filled with a sadness. It was all too fleeting. The pleasure. Happiness. Purpose, of any kind. Friendship.

The Puppeteer turned around and sat on the window’s ledge, still holding the Ironic Zombie Puppet.

“There, that’s better.”

The Puppeteer sighed and then let himself fall backwards out the window. Much better.