Oh, yeah, I thought doomsday prophecies based on the Mayan calendar were a big joke.
I scoffed when people mentioned planets aligning and the world coming to an end. Earthquakes? Tidal waves? Doom and gloom? They were all total nonsense to me.
Fools have been predicting the end of the world since aliens from the Pleiades constellation sector of our universe planted us on earth.
Life would cease to exist? I knew better. The world’s not going to end until Sun God Ra decides it will end. A supernova. A solar flare. It won’t matter. The earth will be toast.
I laughed hysterically when I read an article in the local paper, The Daily Fishwrapper, about a Myrtle Beach man who planned on fleeing to Tennessee prior to Dec. 21 because he wanted to protect his family.
He reportedly spent $8,000 on non-perishables and survivalist gear. Presumably, he had a supply of spiked Kool-aid as well, but he didn’t mention that to The Daily Fishwrapper reporter.
Then, when the sundial read 1:17 p.m. Dec. 20, my apartment building shook and my friend, B.B. Byrd, and I heard a thunderous, ethereal, echoing rumble that lasted for three seconds. I had vertigo for a moment, but there might have been natural chemical factors involved in that regard.
“Maybe that’s why Mary Lee the great white shark was lurking off our coast,” I thought. “She was waiting for one of many Grand Strand wingnuts to submerge themselves in the sea rather than face the eternal dirt nap on terra firma.”
I spoke briefly with a neighbor of mine, who felt and heard the same thing — without the inhalation of said chemicals. So B.B. Byrd and I weren’t having some kind of dual hallucination. We all agreed the noise had to have been induced by a small earthquake or a sonic boom. We blew it off. I still haven’t read or heard any official explanation.
That same night, as I snuggled in the relative safety of my security blanky, tropical storm-like winds gusted outside. I haven’t heard that kind of terrifying, ear-piercing howl since the last time Rosie O’Donnell opened her big mouth. The walls of my apartment creaked. The windows shook.
“This is it,” I thought. “The beginning of the end. I’ll be danged. Those bastards were right.”
Nah, the sun rose and set on the 21st. I watched another glorious sunrise from the beach on the 22nd. As the waves kept track of eternity, it occurred to me that time doesn’t stop and start. Our concept of time stops and starts.
We survived the apocalypse, y’all. Peace.