Freewrite: earthquake

A continuation of The Reeducation Board.

The ground changed from dirt to something hard and flat, pavement or concrete. My rope-soled shoes made a soft, wet, smacking sound.

Would it be a cliché if I told you – would you believe me, if I said the ground rumbled and the earth quaked? Well, it did.

I fell over, and this time Enric didn't catch me. Down, on the ground, I tried to get back up, but it was hard to tell where up was. I had always assumed it was the opposite of down, but maybe not. The ground was cold, gravelly.

Footsteps behind me, somebody came and picked me up. Not Enric this time, rougher and heavier grip, with dry hands. Nobody I recognised. Calloused hands. I tried to help as best I could – whatever they wanted me to do, I thought, it would be best if I went along with it.

They put me in a chair. A strange, uncomfortable chair, with bits of itchy hair sticking into me.

"Name?"

"Fassbender Fenugreek."

"Position?"

"Third engineer, Stravinsky-class."

"So, Mr Fenugreek, what do you think of… the government?"

A real curveball. What can I say to that?
"Well, I guess, it's alright."

"Wrong answer, Mr Fenugreek."

Zap! Pow! Biff! Blammo! Kabam! Shebop! Scat ba ba da do bop, fly me to the moon, ba doop sho doop.

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This is a five-minute freewrite based on the prompt earthquake. It's tenuous at best. I don't know whether this was a harder prompt than usual, or if it was my mood.

Interesting. It would appear that I am incapable of writing anything with a modicum of sincerity or seriousness. I also just read Without Feathers by Woody Allen yesterday, which is surely partly to blame.