La fin

Within seven hours, the wailing and gnashing of teeth could be sharply heard from my front stoop. I sat by the monkey tree in my yard, smoking a Parliament and enjoying the entertainment, wondering if I was on The Truman Show (and, if so, how much compensation would I be getting when the actors finally grew fatigued?) Lightning bolts, clashing prisms, the cracking and crumbling of the earth's surface – it was all there. It was all present and yet I couldn't find a thing to say. I simply dug some bright orange foam earplugs out from under the shambles of wood that was once my house, and observed. Even if I could have wrapped some syllables around my tongue, there was no one to say them to. Every individual I had ever known was ill with shock, saying goodbyes, asking questions as frivolous as, "Where are we going?" What would it matter where we were going? We were fortunate enough to be alive at the very end of the universe, the greatest and most beautiful helter-skelter to ever become, and I was going to enjoy the show. The ticket was fucking expensive.