It’s the end of the world, and I feel gloomy, doomy and a little bit worried that the motorized, self-pogoing pogo stick I purchased on Amazon isn’t going to arrive in time to make full use of it.
You may have heard the rumors on TV and scoffed. You may have read the scribbles on 39-toothed Pete’s cardboard sign outside of Star Market and thought, “Repent? More like, misrepresent!” But this isn’t 1984, Y2K or 2012. This time, it’s for real. On Monday, April 8, the world will end.
Next week, Hades will pry open his bountiful crack, giving the demonic denizens of the Underworld full reign of the Earth. The four horsemen of the apocalypse will come galloping to the fourth of the angel’s seven trumpets. The falcon-headed sun guardian, Ra, will fall in defeat to the trials of Hell’s 12 gates. The sun and moon will align themselves in the heavens above, making easy work for Fenrir when he decides to gobble them up. And most importantly, for those seeking to watch these events, solar-filter glasses can be bought at Walmart for $1.84.
You may be asking, “Gee, he wouldn’t happen to be talking about the eclipse, would he?” Yes, I’m talking about the eclipse, or more accurately, for those of us in the Boston area, the partial eclipse. Do you mean to tell me that the notion of our sky’s celestial bodies climbing on top of one another during the middle of the day like a couple of bored, horny dogs doesn’t scream “Armageddon” to you? And the fact that it’s the lunar orb doing the eclipsing makes it all the worse.
I mean, I always thought the moon would be a bottom, but I guess this proves it’s undeniably a top. And if there is a man up there, the guy’s got a real sinister side. It’s like watching the innocent, smiling baby sun from “Teletubbies” being overtaken by the creepy, kamikaze moon from “The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask.” If that doesn’t sound like the end of the world to you, you’re probably too hung up on David Bowie’s “Life on Moon.” Seriously, Gru should have stolen it when he had the chance.
Look, I love the moon as much as the next person. Some would even argue that without drinking a specially concentrated liquid moonlight serum throughout the day, I’d crumble into dust. But biases aside, as long as the big ball of luminous cheese remains in the sky, our days on this planet are numbered.
You can hide in your attic and count the cobwebs all you want, but within a matter of days, your life will be swallowed up whole by a vortex of fire and brimstone. But here’s a real revelation: It’s not all bad! I know being erased from existence sounds scary, especially when it’s your entire planet and the collective historical achievements of your entire species that are being erased, but hear me out. When you know your time is up, it’s a relief! Or more of a release, actually. A sweet one, even! Like a cookie!
When you release yourself from the weight of mortality, you can indulge in all those things you were always too afraid to do. Pick up a few vices! Have a margarita at 10 a.m. Learn the bongos. Cash in your Dave & Busters points to get that big ball of candy gloop you’ve been eyeing since you were eight. Go bowling with the bumpers up! Who’s going to judge you, a ghost? Just open up a window and wave them out like the sad, roaming vapor they are!
When everybody is as good as dead, you realize just how great life can be. So live it! If you’re a devoted reader picking up this paper on Monday afternoon, congratulations! You have exactly one week left to live. If you’re a late bloomer, however, reading this on Thursday or, God forbid, Friday, you have the weekend. Maybe take a little trip? Go see America’s biggest ball of twine in Cawker City, Kansas. You may bump into me out there, spending my last days doing what I do best: Walking about randomly, thinking about nothing and wishing I were born a tree.
