Prompt: Tell the story of the most world-changing event you can think of, and write it from the perspective of the least important person possible.
It's over now and everyone has gone home. No more crowds, no more blocked traffic, no more confetti or ticker tape or just plain trash thrown from the windows above. No more aliens. Just me. And my broom.
I'm sure that the whole thing was very interesting. After all, it's not everyday that four-armed crab men descend from space and tell humanity that they aren't alone. In fact, it was not even today. No, the crab men descended two months ago in Los Angeles. I guess it surprised the heck out of everyone. Certainly, they have been on the TV every time I sit down to enjoy a cold one and take my mind off of things. It seems that everyone also wants to meet them or see them or be near them or something. Which is why they set up this world tour. But did they ask me? Of course not.
If they had, I would have told them it would be a waste of time and money. After all, how many people are actually going to see them. Several times a year, we get some sports team or movie star or something who wants to do a parade down Broadway. Only the front row, standing on the curb actually see anything, and even then it isn't much with New York's finest lining the route. Most people just see the head of the person in front of them. There's a lot of pushing and shouting and blocked streets. And there's a lot of trash. Which I get called on to clean up.
So, these crab men come through on their floating platform and everyone screams and yells and throws stuff. Whoop-dee-doo. They don't think of me and my broom. They don't think what it's costing them in taxes for me and mine to clean all of this up.
Ah well. At least I get paid.
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