Good ole boys 33: The salt mines.

The king survey's his land out a window as dirty as a tear-filled eye. He takes a step back in time, to his childhood when the land was still beautiful and verdant, the womb from which humanity truly arose. He can see the garden grow tired and dry, used up by hands and mouths until it collapsed revealing a more tasteful treasure. They became the richest kingdom in the world, their salt mines belching forth wealth as the hands and mouths tore at it, making the hole deeper and deeper until the reached the pit of the earth, a place that the sanctimonious might called hell. The chasm then opened its mouth and out came the translucent cloud bringing death.
As his people wailed in torment outside the spiked gates of his royal home he was safe because of those fallen that had came before him. With wealth came treachery. He had meticulously planned for every disaster in his palace of many rooms, each named after a betrayed leader requiring never-ending construction so that the rooms might hold all the abandoned souls. He walked to the door of his office, clouds of dust exploding with each step of his carefully shined loafers. "Goddamnit" spilled out of the mouth that used to great dignitaries. He was now the one that had to shine his shoes because all his maids had died long before.
"Eaves, come here" he yells down an echoing corridor the words tangle like a primitive death prayer with the drum beat of Eaves hammer. They are the only two people still alive in this gilded mausoleum. The rough man follows the softer hands up the stairs and into a dusty room. The princess levitates on her bed, a curvy body indicating her wealth, the makeup on her still cheeks finally beginning to crack like a fresco. She had been miraculously preserved by some merciful force, so that the king could come sit with his darling girl even in death. Her closed eyes still brought him the same joy he had experienced back when they sparkled like the crown jewels.
They both looked at the body with reverence the craftsman's rubber-band mouth with scarred lips chewing on his thoughts until they broke free, "Sir, is it time for my pick-me-up?"
The king looked at his graying servant with defeated eyes and said to him, "No, Eaves there is no more pick-me-up. We will have to cease construction immediately." The king tried to continue with pride through the words as scalding tears began to roll down the other man's face. "You may leave, if you like, and try to find your way out there but, without finishing what we have built I will surely die." His head bows as he says, "Eaves, I dismiss you, you may go."
"Oh my king," he bawled, "I have done everything I could do with my hands to serve you and now, I leave you with a broken heart. May we meet again on the other side."
As the king watches the old man stumble through the desert outside he begins to flip the switches on his oxygen mask containment suit opening his nose to the invasion of the stagnant air that erupted from the pit. He dropped to the ground in a spasm as the violent winds outside blew the master craftsman off his feet. They both died in silence.
It was not long after that the boys struggled into the stagnant foyer. The living ghosts joyfully partook of the canned meats in the pantry of the once great home and stuffed some extra's in their tattered bags before going along on their way. They did not unlock any of the upper rooms, the smell of death was too strong.