All the Mayans in the underworld must be laughing their asses off.
There's nothing like kissing your own sweet ass goodbye … only to turn around and kiss it hello again. Neither your lips nor your ass knows whether you're going, or coming.
So, was that it? The End of Days?
To tell you the truth, I hardly even noticed, other than the lights flickering a couple of times.
The flickering was enough to attract the family's attention.
"Will the power go out tonight?" they asked me.
To which I replied, "It's actually lights-out for all of us tonight, guys. Curtains. We shall be no more … at least that's what I've heard."
Our oldest was the first to speak. "So … that means no more school?"
"Nope," I said. "No more nuthin'."
"Yeah! Yay! Awesome!" the room erupted in celebration. "Dude!"
Eventually, things quieted down.
"Alright," the oldest came at me again. "So, you're sure, right Dad?"
I nodded my head affirmatively, whilst the mother of my children rolled her eyes.
"Damnit!" our youngest piped up. "That figures … we're already on Christmas vacation. What a frigging waste!"
Imagine our disappointment, upon waking the next day, to a post apocalyptical world that's completely indiscernible from the one we said goodbye to just the night before.
You call that an Apocalypse? Boy, the End of Days ain't what it used to be.
Here I was, with retirement finally within my grasp, only to have it all disappear like a desert mirage—with no hope to recover it, until the next End of the World mania hits, and the crazies are again, off and running.
Come to think of it, how far off could that possibly be? Good chance happy days will be here again soon!
We're really going to need more of a show the next time—more fireworks—more brimstone. Would it kill The Four Horsemen to make an appearance? And I'm talking about Famine, Pestilence, War, and Death—not High Fructose Corn Syrup, No Cell Service, Free Lunches, and Teen Sexting (the new-age Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse).
You see, I'm a sucker for the classics.
At least we already have "Sympathy for the Devil" … and of course, the Anti-Christ is on the scene. And succeeding mightily.
One has to give credit where credit is due.
What I want to know is, did the Mayans accurately predict the end of their civilization? Probably not? Well maybe that should have been a sign that they should keep their goddamned calendar to themselves. Who asked them, anyways?
How could anybody think an ancient civilization like theirs could possibly have foretold our future? What, because they could pile up stones in pyramid shapes, and cut the still-beating hearts out of their human sacrifices and show them to them? That's the kind of resume people put their faith in these days? Isn't that kind of a stretch?
Who has that kind of imagination?
Who has that kind of weed?
Well, a giant hemp asteroid must have have burned up in our atmosphere, because a good number of Earth's best and brightest reportedly found the inspiration to freak out—or at least act out.
Beaucoup sorries to the the credit card company, the bank, the tax collector, and to the cops; no doubt, there's some real messes out there that their creators weren't planning to ever have to clean up.
The impending end of the word must have provided just the excuse for some to take that vacation, drive that slick black Lamborghini off the lot like they stole it, and party with hookers and coke like they're Charlie Sheen. Sorry, suckers! Looks like you'll have to pay the piper this time!
You're not Charlie Sheen.
You know, most non-idiots would approach the end of the world as kind of an unlucky thing. But for such an unlucky event, I bet there was a lot of good luck to be had on it's eve. As in, getting lucky.
Imagine the pick-up lines unleashed upon the girls of the world:
"Come on baby ... I know I got no job, no car, and no looks ... but hey—the world ends tonight! What do you have to lose?"
"You don't want to die a virgin, do you?" "Well, you don't want me to, do you?"
I bet a good many of the believers got so lucky with these lames-ass lines, there was no need to bother with little things like contraception and disclosure of any petri dish pee pee problems.
So you know what that means: expect a stupid person baby boom! And a STD Tsunami! As if we needed another one of either of those …
And think of all the other shit they pulled, attempting to live the last moments of their miserable lives to the fullest. Yeah, those aren't going anywhere either. They must have needed to build new server farms just to hold the zigabytes of scandalous new video and images being put up on the web as I write.
"It's okay if I take some pictures, right honey? No one's going to be around to see them anyway."
Also, do not forget that, like many of those making their End of the World film debuts, Christmas … is coming.
Nobody expecting the world to end before Christmas would have been particularly dedicated in their gift procurement efforts (unless they're apocalyptical hypocrites). So expect a mad-ass shopping rush too, these last days before the big day.
And then, the bills will come due. Ah, the traditional holiday binge-spending financial Apocalypse is on the way.
Here's a hot tip on the real end of the world: it's going to come when we least expect it. The universe doesn't give you a chance to party before it comes for you. And as I heard the late great George Carlin say, the planet is going to be fine. It's us—the people—that will be going away.
That's my forecast. No, I'm not even Mayan. And I'm not even ancient (I know that's relative).
And as one who's probably headed straight to Hell, I'm certainly in no rush to bring on the final judgment. If it's not going to be a pretty girl(s) doing the Rapturing on me, I think I'll step out of line now, if I can.
PS. Wouldn't it be a bitch for my smug ass if the Mayans were just off by a couple of days, or weeks, or months?
Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC
The perfect gift for anyone who likes to laugh! My novels Jesus Vs. Santa and Harlowe Pilgrim's Oh My Words! 2012 are available at www.cockandbullpublishing.com and most other online booksellers.
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© Copyright 2016 Harlowe Pilgrim. All rights reserved.
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