Nacho’s Apocalypse
So I have a new plan. There’s no solving the world’s political and social woes and, frankly, I don’t want to. I don’t care anymore. I read about millions dead and starving babies and I think – Thank god! Multiply that a billion times.
My plan is simple: Make everyone disappear except for a list of 15 people, which I have prepared. Those 15 are allowed to bring along one significant other, if necessary. I have mailed this list to God in Heaven, c/o the US Postal Service, and I hope for a response before this article is complete.
Once everyone in the world vanishes (or, as my grandmother says, “is taken by the rupture”) and I, along with my list of friends, remain, we will divide the world into equal parts. This division excludes Antarctica, the Arctic, Canada, Iowa and Clarksburg, MD, because I would feel cheated if I got any of those in my portion and I don’t want to cheat my friends.
Once the divisions are established, we’ll all go about our separate lives with the exception of a once-yearly party at a designated location. The party will last for one month and we’ll drink and do drugs and sacrifice goats…whatever. For the other eleven months, nobody fucking contacts me. That’s it. Just me and my 1/15th of the world.
Oh, I know, I’ll go crazy all alone, right? Is that what you’re thinking? That’s ignorant. You’re a dull and uncreative person if you’re thinking that. Think of all the things that could be done. I could explore the cities and towns and countryside. There’s hiking, caving, mountain climbing, rafting, fishing, learning to fly planes and drive trains, burning Baltimore to the ground, herding 10,000 pigs into a big field and launching a sea to land missile at them. Need I mention my overwhelming desire to catch up on all the DVD’s, books and music I’ve been missing? I think I’m also going to spend five years sound asleep.
Maybe 20 years will pass before I start to get a little weird. I’m willing to admit that. Contrary to popular opinion, I am able to look ahead and cope with the important things in life. It is for this reason I’ve begun building a file labeled “Apocalypse Stage 2.” This file takes the 15 friends on my original list, catalogs their fears and regrets, and outlines horrific, emotionally torturous ways to kill them slowly. After that, I’ll take their significant others and brutally rape them with various industrial items till they’re crippled, insane and diseased. Then, over the course of five years, and after constant and violent sexual and mental torture, I’ll eat them.
This, by my calculations, assuming God does reply at the end of this article, gets me to my 60th birthday and, finally, all alone, I’ll spend another 10 years burning down all of the cities and forests. Then, on or around my 71st birthday, I’ll fly Air Force One over the Grand Canyon and take a nosedive. Easy. See? Thinking ahead.
Here comes the mailman!