The sky is this funny blue color, not the normal gray. There’s no rain falling. And there’s a really bright THING in it, so bright you can’t look at it. I’m sure this has something to do with the end of the world.
Here in Vancouver, March finally ended on Mondy, and we had five days of apparent July in which to look out the office window and anticipate a beautiful Victoria Day long weekend.
We woke up this morning to find that it’s mid-March again. If there is a god, he’s crueler than the New Broom God imagined by those American cultists everyone is pointing and laughing at.
The cicadas suddenly went quiet. No wait, they’re back. Never mind.
Do not taunt the glowing ball in the sky!
Indeed. It is burning with the fiery heat and radiation of a thousand nuclear reactors. Maybe even two thousand.
Oh, NOES! The glowing thing is RADIOACTIVE? We’re all gonna die…
Does this mean we don’t have to renew our subscriptions?
“Not the sun up in the sky… The son of God!” [/Uhura]
What, you think there won’t be a SDMB in Heaven? How would it be Heaven, then?!
Heaven would be free SDMB subscriptions for eternity.
Der Trihs and the lone cashew are at Heaven’s pearly gates. Their time had come.
There was an obviously well informed, I mean above averagely well informed guy speaking in the background, although the man was obscured. Could not be seen.
“Who is that?” the lone cashew inquired.
“Yeah, who is that? What he has say sounds like something Cecil Adams would say - although I admit I have not actually ever heard the sound of Cecil’s voice” Der Trihs added. “But I have read writings of Cecil Adams many times and would recognize the content anywhere.”
“That’s not Cecil Adams” replied Saint Peter. “That’s God.”
“He only thinks he’s Cecil Adams”
The only thing that happened at 6:00 was that Luna meowed at me, to let me know it was dinnertime for cats. If you think your cat meowing at you is the end of the world, though, you should definitely get a breed other than a Siamese mix.
Around 7:00 (what would be 6:00, except for DST), the most catastrophic thing to happen was that Luna, having wolfed her dinner, vomited it up. Warm cat vomit to clean up, oh joy oh rapture. The whole thing turned out to be worth a handful of warm cat hork.
Get a dog. You’ll never have to clean up cat barf again.