Saturday, 24 May 2014

Apocalypse

We left it too late, and I dreamed of the apocalypse again. We got distracted; there were too many conversations to be had, and by the time I remembered about dismembering the bombs, it was already too late.

There were four bombs and they were all going to turn the sky purple. There were four bombs and these were the big ones. Although none of us could quite believe it, these bombs were the final punctuation to an existence that had been going on some time. Punkt, punkt, punkt. Punkt.

I was surprised we forgot that the bombs were about to explode, but there were so many sweet other things in the universe that it was hard to dwell on that. Small platters of food. A gameshow we were uncannily invested in the outcome of. Adorable people—such cute people everywhere. Is it so bad that I was fine with the apocalypse, if it meant I got to move my hand onto your knee?

I came across D, in bed, and they were crying. They were wearing a grey cotton ballgown and mourning humanity. I giggled, then hid my mouth with my hand. “It’s not funny!” they said. But laughter snuck into their face like bees. “Stop it!” We bit our lips and giggled. We hugged each other quickly. There were only four minutes left.

It was funny, really. Because how could we have forgotten; how could we have messed it all up this bad? But here we were, lasting it out, effervescent with everything. It was funny. And then it all went kaboom.

Four bangs, falling on the earth like the footsteps of otherworldly giants.

A violet sky, gathering and dissipating like shoals of flying fish.

Tents dissolving in thick, orange rain.

Three dimensional cloud patterns.

Radio static.

And then we were just sitting at the drive-through, still giggling, and waiting for the wind to change.

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