It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking twelve as Lance MacAllister sat on his old, worn out porch he had built forty years prior with his then-pregnant wife Sarah, who passed away two years ago from a rare form of cancer. Minecraftia back then was a wild but fascinating place where game was plentiful, trading with the local village was almost a scam and trees were numerous as stars in the night sky. Today, young men who only cared for fighting each other to the death and carnal establishments populated the once-great wildlands. Many of them had suspiciously similar looks, with long and dyed asymmetrical bobs that covered one eye and hoodies of various monsters they had never even seen physically, such as Creepers and Endermen.

Lance knew that they had come because of the young celebrities that had sensationalized and capitalized on the undiscovered frontier. Such celebrities used monikers like DanTDM or Tobuscus to broadcast their adventures to the masses back west, (which had been settled long ago) where his fully grown children lived now. They made it look very easy to these young and impressionable people, but little did they know that an entire crew filmed them while out and about, not unlike the Monkees.

Lance was once a barrel-chested man with a long, voluminous beard that flowed in the wind, which complimented his equally lengthy hair. Now, he was a senile figure whose beard and hair had become ice white and a man that had outlived his days of greatness, and who could barely even speedwalk. He was still good with his old diamond sword he had gotten 20 years ago from his wife for their anniversary of living there, although he would be out of breath after 2 or 3 swings.

Then, one of the young men saw him. "What are you lookin' at, you creep?" he said. Lance, despite his old age, could still hear very well, and he could hear the jerk's headphones blasting an unoriginal dubstep remix, which went along nicely with his equally uninspiring attire.

"Nothing." Lance replied. "Go make like a tree and leave."

"No. Give me your emeralds now, or get owned." He took out a cheaply made stone sword, and pointed it at Lance.

"Oh, really now?"

"F*ck yeah, old timer."

Lance slowly got up, and hit the boy over the head with a rusty shovel that was leaning against his house. The young people that populated the local area were philosophically unoriginal as well. Their culture centered around taking other people's possesions instead of making it on their own. Sometimes, Lance understood where they came from, considering that mining for iron and diamonds was a laborious and dangerous job. Lance was thankful that he taught his own kids otherwise.

He subsequently notified the local police using a complex Redstone-based system that he had just begun to understand. They arrived shortly after and took the knocked-out teen away.

After they left, Lance went inside and sat down on the hard oak chairs he and his wife made when they first built the old place. He pondered what his world had become, and how the local populace had degenerated so much to the point where their life consisted of sex, crime and slaughtering each other with swords they stole. He wished his wife or kids could help him through these confusing times, but both were gone to varying degrees.

Lance decided to take a nap, so he put on a calming record in his hand-crafted jukebox he and his wife danced to on countless nights. He laid down in his bed and slept for an unknown amount of time.

Sometime later, he woke to the sounds of screams and explosions. He got up as fast as he could, and looked outside. He saw countless teens dead, houses wrecked by creepers, and zombies feasting on pet dogs and ocelots. Lance wouldn't have known what in God's name was going on if t wasn't for a giant tree that had caught fire, which illuminated the entire surrounding area.

Lance knew what was going on. It was a "Necro-Wave", as it was known colloquially. Most of the beasts that plagued Minecraftia were kept under control by the police force, but on rare occurrences (e.g. a local clan of Villagers were infected by zombies), the monsters would come back in full swing, killing scores of people.

Lance got his diamond sword and headed outside. He mutilated all the beasts with some difficulty, but he was victorious nonetheless. He closed the eyes of those who had perished in the firefight, and proceeded to the main village.

When he had arrived there, Lance saw a scene that would break lesser men. Multiple buildings were ablaze, and the corpses of the townspeople he once knew littered the streets like some sort of perverted decoration. Against all odds, he proceeded to the town square, looking for people he could save.

Despite his optimism, Lance had found no survivors. Blood stained the grass and sidewalks, and the bodies of both humans and animals populated what once was the town's center for gathering.

After fighting more beasts, Lance spotted a familiar face: the teen from earlier. He was fighting off the monsters with an axe he probably found in the local hardware store, goring zombies. He then spotted a Creeper sneaking up behind him. Lance ran as fast as he could to the Creeper, and tackled it. He quickly chopped its head off before it could blow up.

He then joined the young man. "'Member me?" Lance said. "Uh...yeah." the teen said awkwardly. Before their conversation continued, more zombies closed in on their position. Lance fought harder than he had in years, and he genuinely believed that he was going to have a cardiac arrest. But despite this, he and his newfound ally fought on.

By dawn, the entire village looked more like an open-air slaughterhouse than a town. The street were filled with innumerable amounts of blood, brains and body parts. Lance had literally collapsed from exhaustion, and only woke up because of the sun got into his eyes.

When he woke up, he found a note beside his person. He opened it, and read the messy handwriting on it:

Ay Old Timer,

Thanks for saving my Ass last Nite wen we wur fighteng zombies and stuf. Im sory that I tried too assalt u yesturday...it was a dare that me & my friends maed up. Anyways, hears a lil gift frum me 2 u

-Drake

In the note was five emeralds. Lance appreciated Drake's kind gesture, but there wasn't much he could do with them, considering almost everyone in the town was dead.

He then stood up and looked at the smoldering town. "I guess those young-in's aren't too bad after all." he said to himself. He suddenly became a little guilty that he had not realized this before almost everyone died last night.

He then proceeded to walk to the nearest village to see if they could help him and the few survivors rebuild. During this rather arduous walk for the seventy-year-old, he whistled What a Wonderful World to himself, while he thought of the bright, prosperous future that lay ahead of him and his fellow Minecraftians.

FIN