The sun shone on the land, a great firey ball of death scorching the river and plains dry leaving only brittle brown in its wake.
Everywhere the news proclaimed the severe drought, a lack of water for all. Prices for public water skyrocketed. Mailouts were sent to every home, begging the people to conserve.
“Mr. Capell, this is Kirby, your tenant in apartment C? I’m calling about the drought, and the need to conserve water.”
“What about it?”
“You asked me to water the lawn here, sir, but the city asking that we don’t water our lawns anymore.”
“So? Screw the city, water it.”
“But sir, there’s a severe drought.”
“I don’t care, water the damn lawn.”
“Mr. Capell, the city will issue fines for anyone caught watering their lawn. Water is for drinking and basic hygiene only.”
“Do you pay for the water? No, you don’t. I do. So water the damn lawn. Just don’t get caught. If you’re too dumb to handle that, you can pay a stupid tax.”
“Mr. Capell, you know this could lead to people dying, right?”
“Listen, I’m already raising your rent next month. You want me to raise it again?”
“About that, sir. I decline to have my rent raised. I’ll be moving out at the end of this month.”
“Fine, but you better water the damn lawn until then, you damn hippy. And you’re not getting your damage deposit back, for all the trouble you’ve cost me already.”
“That’s illegal sir.”
“So sue me,” he said, right before Kirby heard the phone click.