Always Pack Your Backpack in the Event of a Blighter Future
I was working on the horror movies essay - when I decided I was too tired to go on. I opened a new document page to jot down some ideas I had, including an opening line that had come to me while I was out walking this evening. After I wrote the first line, the rest of this jibberish came tumbling out.
Not sure where it's all going - but I think I might revisit it.
When I've had more sleep.
It was cold the day I sat on the grassy hillside near my childhood home and watched the world crumble. I wish I had thought to pack a sweater. And a picnic lunch. It was the kind of sunset you really wanted a bottle of wine and a cheese plate for. Clear, without haze, the blood red of deserted civilizations give the sky a deep amber glow and the fires surrounding the sun like a million tiny stars exploding in a new galaxy.
It was my fault. And of course I knew I should be running. The survivors – if there were any…would seek me out soon enough. Then it was burning torch and pitchfork time for me for sure (these being their most effective weapons since the massive electromagnetic pulse I inadvertently generated knocked out every electronic device – well – best as I could tell (news being hard to come by) on the planet.
Surely you’ve seen someone (or been someone) whose tapped their fingers impatiently while counting the last 30 seconds for a bag of microwaved popcorn, or bitched and moaned when their broadband had gone down for 30 seconds. Well – imagine telling these people - in fact, imagine someone telling you that the irritating “I’m done!” beep of the microwave will never, ever, arrive – or that even if the broadband did come back on it wouldn’t matter, because your newly-update-to-play-the-latest-video-game computer would never work again – what would you do.
You got it. Pitchforks and torches. And possibly a traditional public hanging.
You know. For the kids.
So why wasn’t I hightailing it to the recesses of a cave somewhere - one that I had hopefully had the foresight to stock with the remainders of my Y2K survival kit.
It’s simple really. First of all, I didn’t plan ahead. Not for this and not for Y2K, not ever for anything. I have been told that this is a liability when it comes to my personality – but it let’s me be flexible, spontaneous, free and easy. I like to think of it as an asset, really. Aside from ending human life as we had always known it, it hasn’t really been a problem for me.
So, there I was, with only me, myself, and my no picnic and no sweater.
Secondly, I’m a sucker for a spectacle…I mean often does one get a chance to sit and watch the civilization literally crumble? Buildings as far as I could see would shudder, than collapse slowly from the bottom up.
The dust was incredible. And the sound. – phenomenal. Terrible, but phenomenal.
It made the earth shake.
It made my bones shake. Or maybe I was shaking from the cold. I would have liked to have had a sweater, my favorite gray one, particularly. It was wool, and so durable – and I had finally worn it in enough that the fibers were soft and silky, not prickly and itchy. Wool is great because it’s so warm, but new wool is so uncomfortable.
I don’t know how sheep stand it.
Well – how they used to stand it.
I mean, sheep were once wild…at least I think they were….so they may still make it. No more Dollys though. They’ll have to go back to making sheep the old fashioned way.
I hope the sheep can remember the old fashioned way.
I hope I can remember the old fashioned way – in case I find someone else out there someday. Someone who can forgive me for dooming the rest of mankind. I mean, you’re a lovely rock - you’re all lovely rocks here in this cave – but frankly sometimes I get lonely – and it’s been so quiet lately I think it might be my duty to re-populate the human race.
I’ll need another human for that. Someone who can pro-create.
And cook. If I eat lichen one more day, I’ll scream.
I’d even marry them if they could knit.
I would really like a sweater.
Not sure where it's all going - but I think I might revisit it.
When I've had more sleep.
It was cold the day I sat on the grassy hillside near my childhood home and watched the world crumble. I wish I had thought to pack a sweater. And a picnic lunch. It was the kind of sunset you really wanted a bottle of wine and a cheese plate for. Clear, without haze, the blood red of deserted civilizations give the sky a deep amber glow and the fires surrounding the sun like a million tiny stars exploding in a new galaxy.
It was my fault. And of course I knew I should be running. The survivors – if there were any…would seek me out soon enough. Then it was burning torch and pitchfork time for me for sure (these being their most effective weapons since the massive electromagnetic pulse I inadvertently generated knocked out every electronic device – well – best as I could tell (news being hard to come by) on the planet.
Surely you’ve seen someone (or been someone) whose tapped their fingers impatiently while counting the last 30 seconds for a bag of microwaved popcorn, or bitched and moaned when their broadband had gone down for 30 seconds. Well – imagine telling these people - in fact, imagine someone telling you that the irritating “I’m done!” beep of the microwave will never, ever, arrive – or that even if the broadband did come back on it wouldn’t matter, because your newly-update-to-play-the-latest-video-game computer would never work again – what would you do.
You got it. Pitchforks and torches. And possibly a traditional public hanging.
You know. For the kids.
So why wasn’t I hightailing it to the recesses of a cave somewhere - one that I had hopefully had the foresight to stock with the remainders of my Y2K survival kit.
It’s simple really. First of all, I didn’t plan ahead. Not for this and not for Y2K, not ever for anything. I have been told that this is a liability when it comes to my personality – but it let’s me be flexible, spontaneous, free and easy. I like to think of it as an asset, really. Aside from ending human life as we had always known it, it hasn’t really been a problem for me.
So, there I was, with only me, myself, and my no picnic and no sweater.
Secondly, I’m a sucker for a spectacle…I mean often does one get a chance to sit and watch the civilization literally crumble? Buildings as far as I could see would shudder, than collapse slowly from the bottom up.
The dust was incredible. And the sound. – phenomenal. Terrible, but phenomenal.
It made the earth shake.
It made my bones shake. Or maybe I was shaking from the cold. I would have liked to have had a sweater, my favorite gray one, particularly. It was wool, and so durable – and I had finally worn it in enough that the fibers were soft and silky, not prickly and itchy. Wool is great because it’s so warm, but new wool is so uncomfortable.
I don’t know how sheep stand it.
Well – how they used to stand it.
I mean, sheep were once wild…at least I think they were….so they may still make it. No more Dollys though. They’ll have to go back to making sheep the old fashioned way.
I hope the sheep can remember the old fashioned way.
I hope I can remember the old fashioned way – in case I find someone else out there someday. Someone who can forgive me for dooming the rest of mankind. I mean, you’re a lovely rock - you’re all lovely rocks here in this cave – but frankly sometimes I get lonely – and it’s been so quiet lately I think it might be my duty to re-populate the human race.
I’ll need another human for that. Someone who can pro-create.
And cook. If I eat lichen one more day, I’ll scream.
I’d even marry them if they could knit.
I would really like a sweater.
