"Don't mention Paris, its bad salesmanship..."

I realized tonight that I need a Rick it my life. Someone sensible and pragmatic. Because if it had been me, instead of Ilsa, I would have said "Fuck Paul Henreid. I'm gonna stay here and be a bartender's wife." That is what distinguises me from the fresh-scrubbed, vetted, well-qualified masses. I'm all brains and no fire, no discipline.

I am pleased, however, that the angry, insistent little voice in my head is swelling. The voice that opposes the rest of me (read: vast majority of me) that complains about every hangnail and missed meal. This is the voice that yells, repeatedly, "You will not be beaten." This is the voice that has been missing all of my life, the one that wasn't there every time I threw in the towel after a few preliminaries.

This is the voice that got my biology homework in on time today. When the wimpy, fey version of me, with the squat, dumpy body and the receding hairline told me that I didn't have time to finish a cladogram. But I could finish a little more Borges, get a good word high going, check my e-mail, waste time, ect. The pasty version of me swept his greasy hair back, and nearly convinced me: "After all, what's the use of trying, if you'll only fail?"


"Shut the fuck up, fatty!" The voice appears, and his hair isn't greasy, its short and spiked, with mottled highlights. This guy could be the cold emcee at bondage orgies, or the headmaster at a Draconian school for blind children. He's read everything I've read, but he likes Kurt Vonnegut. He is smoking unfiltered Luckies, and his pink t-shirt says "I burned the Reichstag."

He disengages himself from the wall he was leaning against, and walks toward my alter alter ego, with more swagger than Genet's Querelle. He yells at greasy for a bit, and tells me to get to work.

I do, and I finish with time to spare, not hating myself. I go to Biology and my lab instructor, a delicate woman from South India, lectures on Domain and Phylum, spouts endless taxonomic markers, varied characteristics and reams of statistics. It is as if a porcelain figure is lecturing, with perfect diction, and grace. She does all of this while wearing a lime-green shirt that reads:

"Remember my name, you'll be screaming it later."

Hi everybody! I hope you’re doing good! I was sick for a couple of days but I’m better now. I’m getting a little tired of the winter though. I get to go skiing every Thursday but I’d rather be outside more. It gets too dark too early!

I wrote another poem the other day when we were sitting around listening to music. I forgot what song we were listening to when I got the idea to write this but something in my head clicked. . It’s called “The Line in a Song”. I hope you like it!

The Line in a Song

Sitting in the chair
With the music in your ear
There’s always the line in a song
The one you want to hear

You know which one it is
The one that makes you smile
Your sadness changes to happiness
If only for awhile

It paints a picture inside your head
But the music will play on
And something about it lives
And never will be gone


/me says Usual disclaimers apply

You know, Logan, I...I love ya, man.

Shut the fuck up, Donnie!

I know the world's about to end, but come on, Donnie, none of that gay shit, all right?

They were sitting outside of the office building, the three friends and coworkers, John Oliver, Donnie Simon, and Logan Quinn, all looking toward the sky and not much at each other. It was John on the left, Donnie in the middle, and Logan on the right, just as their desks were arranged. It was their usual order at the local tavern, too, where they went every Friday night after work to get as wasted as they possibly could and still be able to travel home. Logan was enjoying a smoke; the orange light from the flaming end was visible in the weak light of dusk. John nervously opened and closed his cell phone over and over again. Pip, pop, pip, pop... Donnie shifted this way and that, about to piss himself.

Man, this sucks. Um, how big is the asteroid anyway? Anybody know?

Oh, about a fourth of the size of Manhattan.


Shit, that's big!

Yeah, boys, this rock's gonna fuckin kick our asses.

Logan was glad that John and Donnie stayed. All the others left as quickly as they could in a futile attempt to get home to their families. But John and Donnie had agreed with Logan: why not spend your last moments alive enjoying life, not fearing death? There was not enough time left to try to escape it somehow. The asteroid was coming and headed straight for the heart of their city. Yes, instead of driving like a maniac or running around screaming, they chose to sit on the sidewalk, content, peaceful, enjoying the gentle breezes of early evening. Logan was enjoying his smoke like he'd never enjoyed any other, taking long and slow drags, filling his lungs with as much toxic yet satisfying smoke as possible.

Is that it? That, over there?

Naw, John. That's one of those small ones they talked about. That one would probably destroy a coupla city blocks. Looks like that one's headed for......let's see...the docks, probably.

Are you sure, dude, that there wasn't enough time?! Shit, we've been out here a half hour!

Logan glanced up at his watch. He had been sitting with his knees bent up in front of him, resting his hands on them.

We've only been out here, like, ten minutes. Chill. It'll be here.

After the little asteroid flew out of sight they heard a loud boom. The ground shook like a mild aftershock. John looked at Donnie.

You were probably the kid who always said "are we there yet? are we there yet?"

John chuckled. Logan laughed as well, but had to hold his cig tight in the corner of his mouth as he did so. He certainly didn't want to drop his last smoke.

A near-ear-splitting shatter yanked their attention eastward. A large man across the street dressed in what used to be a business suit had apparently thrown a desk chair through a window of the flower shop across the street. He pumped his hands triumphantly in the air.

Ah, finally, the looting has started! Good times, fellas, good times!

Fucking flowers, though? If I were going to loot, I would probably take out that electronics store at Fifth and Grand.

He probably just wanted to bust a widow. It doesn't matter, anyway, y'know, not like there's time to enjoy your new stolen CD player.

Yeah. Good point, Mr. Simon.

Why the hell didn't any chicks stay with us? I always thought that if the world was going to end, I'd, like, go around fucking as many chicks as possible.

Yeah, that would so rule! Why didn't Cindy stay? I would love to be fucking her right now.

Ah, boys, it's all right. There's more to life than fucking. Your last moments of life should be spent by getting out of it what you've always wanted the most. And, well, for me at least, that's been peace, enjoying an awesome smoke, no worries, ya know? Hakuna matata, if you don't mind a ref to a Disney movie.

Yeah, Logan's right, he -- oh! Holy shit. That's it, isn't it?!

Yeeeap! There's that big ol' motherfucker!

They watched in awe as a huge fiery ball of oranges, yellows, and whites streaked across the sky above them. It was so bright that it bathed them all in an orangish light. Logan looked over at Donnie. His eyes were so big that, when Logan looked into them, he could see the reflection of the flaming asteroid in them.

Wow, this is really gonna happen. That son of a bitch is gonna hit right smack dab in the middle of downtown!

Some screaming people ran by, some of them were holding large items. They went by too fast to see what exactly they were, though.

Shit, I think I'm going to piss all over myself!!

Logan patted Donnie on the back.

Ahhh, no need for fear! Just sit back and enjoy the show, man! We got better seats than most of the world for this!

We're better off, too! Everybody who is not instantly killed, they got years of suffering and choking and starvation ahead of them before they finally die. Us, we're going to die right now, with clean clothes on and bellies full.

Well said, Mr. Oliver! Well said! And those burritos we had for lunch, they were pretty fuckin good weren't they?!

Yeah, they were the best!

The asteroid zoomed behind the skyscrapers in the distance, a white hot tail streaming behind it.

Well, gentlemen, this is it! It has been a pleasure knowing you!

Logan turned to John, heartily shook his hand, then he turned to Donnie and did the same. Then they all heard the loudest sound they'd ever heard in their entire lives. Logan shot up out of his sitting position as the ground violently shook. The bright light of the explosion almost blinded them.

Come and get me, motherfuckeeeeerrrrrrrrr...

Donnie could not hear what Logan was yelling over the intense roar around them, but he could tell what it was by the way his lips moved. Then Donnie turned back around just in time to see the grill of a large commuter bus headed straight for his face.

John didn't have much time to ponder seeing Logan and Donnie being smashed into the brick wall behind them by the bus. Immediately after it happened his body burst into flames. And immediately after that a large piece of...something...slammed into him.

Is...is this Heaven?

Maybe. See, John, it's all right. There are plenty of beautiful chicks to fuck all around us!

Right on!!

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