The Day After the World Ends

I’ve been cheerfully enjoying life; working, holidaying, eating, exercising, and writing.

Imagine my deep sense of abandonment on learning that the world is about to end. Apparently the Mayan calendar completes its current Great Cycle of the Long Count, causing a lot of folks—roughly ten percent—to believe the world will end on the 21st of December 2012, at 11:11 UTC.

After a bewildering flurry of Internet research, I’ve come up with these predictions for December 22, 2012, the day after doomsday.

  1. You’ll awaken as you have each day since birth. The world will be intact, as it has for the past four billion years. No axis flips. No attacking asteroids, no careening comets, and no malicious meteors. No galactic alignment between the Earth, the Sun, and the supermassive black hole at the centre of the galaxy. Just business as usual.
  2. You’ll sport a massive hang over, having put an impressive dent in your cask of medicinal moonshine the night before. Waiting for the Earth to collide with a rogue planet turned out to be a bit of a yawner. Secure in your underground bunker, safe from flesh-eating Zombies, there’s no incentive to tackle a task like that sober. Your head will throb until your hair hurts.
  3. At 5:00am you’ll awaken to what sounds like a low flying Gootan spaceship, only to discover your neighbour is testing his prototype 1200cc Harley Davidson snow blower by blasting a hundred-foot rooster-tail of fresh snow from his driveway onto yours..
  4. You’ll brew a pot of coffee, as you do every morning. You’ll recall that you’re on the hook for $50,000 dollars in credit card debt racked up in the countdown to Armageddon. It will seem appropriate to splash a couple dollops of moonshine into your morning coffee.
  5. Six am. You will note a palpable absence of marauding bands of refuges, raiders and flesh-eating zombies. Somebody’s Dad will capture your teenage son and cart him off to hockey practice. Somebody’s Mom will kidnap your other kids and drive them to school. A clever drive-by manoeuvre will result in your wife being coerced, against her will, to go shopping with friends. You’ll discourage her from using the credit card.
  6. You’ll ponder the future of your meticulously chosen genetically diverse post-apocalyptic 25-person gene pool. The nine-foot Black Ops commando from across town will call, wondering if the scheduled group meeting is on and if it’s still ok to procreate with your wife. Your wife selected him.
  7. You’ll want to prostrate yourself before the divinely-inspired prophet and leader of the Church of All Known Galaxies, to whom you donated all your worldly assets in order to secure an elevated status in the post-apocalyptic boondoggle. Given that the world didn’t end as predicted, you’ll hope the Divine Prophet will be pre-disposed to returning your rightful belongings. Your optimism will wither when the inspired one fails to respond to your calls, messages, emails, texts, and Facebook shout outs.
  8. You’ll login to Craigslist and advertise your arsenal for sale; the armory, the weaponized baby stroller, the bicycle generator, a lifetime supply of Kool-Aid, and the random pallets of camouflage gear.
  9. You’ll exchange the sweaty apocalypse survival gear you wore to bed last night for fresh work attire and head off to the office, praying that your pre-Armageddon boss has forgotten that he fired you at the Christmas party three days ago. His outburst may have been triggered by your candid expression of contempt for him and all his ancestors dating back to the beginning of the Mayan Long Cycle. Although, it might have been your insightful critique of his leadership and social skills, or your unsophisticated attempt to seduce his wife by the punchbowl.

Is it possible that the Mayan calendar ended abruptly because the funding stopped, the union wobbled, or the stone mason was committed to an asylum after too many years spent chipping away at calendars?

On December 22nd three things will be certain; the days will start getting longer, you’ll be paying down a mountain of credit card debt, and it’ll definitely be time to kick your Christmas shopping into gear.

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