I remember what things were like before, too. The friends we used to call our own, my loving family and what little I could remember of someone I used to call my wife. I remember her soft lips, the color of her eyes, sometimes, when I sleep and her hair that carried the faint scent of almonds with her. These days, more and more of those memories are replaced by the routine of struggle and daily survival underneath these crimson skies, growing darker each and each day as the Feastable™ Front™ grew closer to the city...what was left of it anyways until The Feast™.

The crops have withered, the animals have died and people collapse from the exhaustion of just living. It's been years since I've seen a cat or a dog or even any mosquitoes in what feels like this never-ending summer. Yet as the Earth and her spoils are consumed by our new self-proclaimed deity, The Beast™, we can only keep praying for a rogue orbital-drop of Feastables™. An act of pity, but of a reminder of their divine might in the form of Drippy™ Cheese™ that we sustain ourselves to live on.

With no cows and no farms how does the Feastables™ cheese get so drippy? These days, the only question that mankind can ask the gods born out of their gluttony and greed.