Survival of the Meanest

“So this is Earth.”

The tourists gingerly side-stepped those who'd met their doom on this now-silent battleground.

“They’ve hardly decomposed. They look like wax replicas.”

“What a project, to clean THIS mess up.”

”Chalk it up to another slaughter over whose imaginary friend is best?”

“My guess is, fighting over ‘ownership’ of something. Gold, maybe.” Snickers.

“Like a sailor, to a siren! Gold, for sure.”

“They could have have opted to harness the timeless wisdom of the Akashic Records, but instead...” Murmurs of agreement.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement-

“It’s a TRAP!”

One by one, the “bodies” begin to rise.