[ WP ] You just survived the apocalypse . Now you 're dealing with some unexpected problems not seen in apocalyptic fiction .

Maslow walked into the tin can with only a cardboard box to shield himself from the rain. Upon arriving he hopped up onto the creaky wooden porch and tossed his make shift umbrella aside. His nostrils filled with a smoldering smell and he looked down at the box. Small pocks covered its surface where the acid rain had hit. Better the box than him, he thought cheerfully. He brushed any remaining sizzling dew off his tattered leather jacket and proceeded inside. 
 
 The tin can was empty save for four or five refugees huddling in a corner. They were playing a game of dice, the die being made from some poor sods knuckle bones of course. This was the apocalypse after all would n't want to mar that image with a fresh set of Bud James Dice. Incidentally, if Maslow's memory served those particular knuckle bones came from a fellow named Bud James. Ah, the universe was silly in that way. What was the saying? Life imitates art far more often than art imitates life, yes quite. Regardless Maslow was n't visiting the tin can to game, he had other duties to attend to. At the far end of the rusting semi-cylinder meeting hall he saw his target. 
 
 `` Sigmund!'' He called happily, `` Good to see you old friend.'' 
 
 Sigmund turned at his call and waved. A bald man with a peppery beard, Sigmund looked half hard boiled egg half grizzled professor on his tenure. His green eyes speckled in the the jumpy light of the wall sconces. 
 
 `` Well I'll be my mother.'' Sigmund said with a wide smile, `` Maslow old friend, how goes the apocalypse?'' 
 
 Maslow shrugged, `` Ca n't complain. Ate an irradiated rat yesterday. Salted that rodentia up and I swear it tasted just like the number two from that double arched fast food franchise.'' 
 
 `` Ah, now that brings back the memories.'' Sigmund replied pointing, `` Get over here friend, kick off your soleless shoes and drape that rag of a jacket on the mummified human over there.'' 
 
 Maslow happily obliged and a moment later he found himself sitting across from his old friend sipping fermented corgi-fruit wine. Sigmund rocked steadily in his old rocker and between them lay a checkerboard littered with pieces fashioned from, yet again more metacarpals. How fortunate they were to be a species with so man finger bones! 
 
 `` So what brings you Underhill Maz?'' Sigmund asked between sips of wine. 
 
 `` To talk of course, it's been far too long since our last chat.'' Maslow replied. 
 
 Sigmund's eyes rolled up as he recalled their previous conversation, `` Oh, yes!'' He exclaimed after a moment, `` We were discussing the efficacy and morality of cannibalizing famous actors and actresses.'' 
 
 `` Correct.'' 
 
 `` If I do recall we came to consensus on the matter. A-list stars, Cruise, Crews, and Cruz were to worn as pelts. B-listers often tasted the best because of their massive drug consumption like the hormone injected cattle of old. And C's through F's were fit only as slaves. The Josh Duhamel axiom.'' 
 
 `` Right you are my friend, but I've not come to talk about Josh Duhamel tonight.'' 
 
 `` So why are you here?'' Sigmund asked intrigued. 
 
 Maslow cleared his throat. `` To discuss what I've been working on lately. A ladder of sorts of base human needs. A sort of pyramid of what all humans require. A-'' 
 
 `` A hierarchy perchance?'' Sigmund cut in. 
 
 `` Do n't be ridiculous friend.'' Maslow scolded. 
 
 Sigmund chuckled. `` I only kid. By the way how's the wine?'' 
 
 `` Delicious. They really brought out the dog flavors in this vintage.'' Maslow replied and took another sip of wine. 
 
 `` Well let's discuss this pyramid-ladder of Maslow's human requirements then.'' Sigmund said with a toast. 
 
 Maslow cleared his throat and began. 
 
 `` The way I see it, and if the apocalypse has thought us anything, humans need three basic things; food, water, and shelter. Now I suggest that once these most base needs are met they will require more, we as a species fear stagnation so we must continue climbing, thus my ladder metaphor. Such is the curse of sapience. Humans satisfying the base needs of the latter will ascend to tier two, safety. Safety can be achieved by any manner of means and is taken in regards to all risks on livelihood. For example the mutant lobsters attacking villages and stealing our men for their depraved sexual parties.. Additionally from the child snatching birds, from whatever danger there may be. Safety nets must be established'' 
 
 `` I'm following.'' Sigmund said as he digested the information. 
 
 `` Once safety is established humans ascend to tier three, love/belonging.'' 
 
 Sigmund looked into his wine with melancholy, `` Ah, do n't we all wish for such things.'' 
 
 `` And I propose that it is a natural need and must be sated before ascending any further. Slave masters can offer you the same love a concubine can, but I propose harems however are materialistic and do not satisfy this tier.'' 
 
 `` Naturally, but what if monogamy?'' 
 
 `` Old friend, the world was n't cleansed in nuclear fire so we could revert backward. But since you mention and in the words of that deliciously tasting Kanye West,'love is cursed by monogamy.'' 
 
 `` Excellent point. Do go on.'' 
 
 Maslow continued, `` Tier four is esteem. The building of identity and the emotions that develops therein. This level is complicated because it grows only in the mind. Esteem can be fed by outside sources, but true growth comes from the sunlight within.'' 
 
 Sigmund nodded and sang, `` This little light of mine, I'm going let it shine.'' 
 
 `` Let it shine, all the time, baby you so fine.'' Maslow finished in his vibrato. The two shared a friendly chuckle. 
 
 `` And what comes after.'' Sigmund said filling his compatriots glass from the skull of the corgi in which the wine was fermented. 
 
 `` Self-Actualization.'' Maslow said with flourish. 
 
 `` Spectacular I love it.'' Sigmund declared. `` You should publish it on the skin of your enemies!'' 
 
 Maslow nodded that's what he wanted to hear. `` And I shall! I only sought your approval.'' 
 
 Sigmund opened his mouth and pointed at his friend knowingly, `` Someone trying to fulfill tier four of his own pyramid-ladder?'' 
 
 Maslow threw his hands up feigning guilt, `` You got me. Sigmund you always were a sharp old bean.'' 
 
 The two chuckled again and drank to their friendship. The conversation then shifted for a time onto the architectural innovations, implementing the new post-modern style of skull, pelvic, and spine bone in new buildings. It was a hobby they shared. Finally though it grew late and a woman peaked her head inside the tin can. 
 
 `` Sigmund it's beddy-bye time. Say goodnight to your friend.'' She beckoned him with and curling finger. A long and dainty thing, Maslow bet she had wonderful finger bones. 
 
 `` Coming mother!'' Sigmund called and he tossed back the last dregs of his wine. `` Well my friend I bid you adieux. Until our next chat.'' 
 
 `` I look forward to it.'' Maslow said with a broad smile. 
 
 Sigmund then peered mischievously at the woman standing in the door, `` Now if you'll excuse me, this old bean needs to go on fill the third tier of your pyramid-ladder.''
