Instant Water
The sun shone upon a small patch of tilled earth, baking it to a crisp.
Marigolds blossoming around the edges wilted and drooped. An old woman stood
with her left hand on her hip and squinted at the garden through one eye.
"That garden ain't gonna grow."
She turned a two-inch square, cardboard box around and peered at the label on
the front.
"Instant water..." She tossed a dirty look over her shoulder at a bungalow and
wrinkled her nose. "Stupid late night T.V. shows...sellin' mah husband all
sorts 'a rubbish!"
She gave her attention back to the box and tried to make out the directions on
the back.
"Jest add water..." She raised an eyebrow at the box and snorted. "Yeah,
instant water all right. 'Fool an' his money be parted!"
She ripped the shrink wrap from the box, tore off the top and peered inside. A
fine white, glistening powder filled the box almost all the way to the top.
"Looks like sugar..." She turned the box upside down and poured its contents
into the grass next to the garden and tossed the container away.
"Idiot husband. Gotta fall fer every scam that comes along!"
She hobbled toward the house, leaving a pile of glittering white crystals
behind.
The sun continued shine, oblivious of her disgruntled unhappiness. Its rays
drew moisture from the grass. Water vapor, rising into the air, interacted
with the crystals and they began to vibrate. A rumbling began, rising in a
rapid crescendo and a monstrous tsunami erupted into existence, washing away
everything in a fifty mile radius.
A small cardboard box washed up onto the edge of the devastation and lay
drying in the sun, its waterlogged type visible for any survivors to read.
'Instant water,' the label read. 'Just add water. Caution. Contains enough for
one medium lake. Handle with care.'
