Late Afternoon At The End Of Days

The world ended today. I was in the kitchen, trying out a new pancake recipe. Then the doorbell rang.

“Hello,” said the zombie. “In case you haven’t been reading the internet, I am here to inform you that the Apocalypse is upon us. The faithful have been taken up to Heaven already.”

“It was… yeah. It was on Twitter this morning,” I said. The zombie nodded and fiddled with his tie. His shirt was at least a size too large, with fold marks still visible across the front. A carboard price tag poked up from the collar.

“Yes indeed,” he said. “Over the coming weeks you will notice certain changes, particularly with regards to atmosphere and climate. In accordance with the slow destruction of the universe, the earth will shake and moan, and chasms will open before your feet. Blood will rain from the skies, and indeed the lakes and oceans shall themselves be blood, and blood shall be all your water. Eventually the weary stars will nod their heads and close their eyes in eternal sleep, their fire exhausted. In the meantime, though, you will notice that most of your friends and coworkers have become zombies, stacks of rotting flesh that don’t even know enough to die – their souls extinguished, their wills vanquished, their eyes sightless, and so forth. Do you have any questions?”

One of his ears had fallen to the ground during his speech. He nudged the bit of flesh aside with the toe of his wingtips. The hems of his pants were held in place by pins.

“Who are you exactly?” I asked. “Do you have a name? Do you know who you were?”

“I am just a recording,” the zombie said.

“So I’m not a zombie,” I said. “Am I favoured by God somehow?”

“Are you kidding?” the zombie said. “Wait until your first cup of blood coffee. You’ll be begging for oblivion.”

A muted crunching noise issued from somewhere inside the zombie’s suit. His torso tilted drastically to the side and one leg buckled inward.

“That’s about it for me,” the zombie said. “I’d get to looting if I were you”.

“Thank you for coming by,” I said, polite to the end.

Author: Aidan Morgan

Aidan is a very serious man who's saving up for a nice dignified pipe. Then we'll see who's laughing.

2 thoughts on “Late Afternoon At The End Of Days”

  1. Now you say thank you? NOW?
    It’s a little late, don’t you think?
    This whole Rapture thing wasn’t my idea. At. All.
    Think about that over your second cup of blood coffee.
    The Zombies have been slinking and slithering right across Canada since May 1. And you’re one of them.
    So there’s really no need for you to stare at my wrinkled shirt. After all, I just had to move households, not to mention cities. You do know that, right? I lost my job. You do know that right?
    The Natural Governing Party has been usurped and the end of the world is upon us.
    Stephen Harpocalypse.
    You asked for it. What else did you expect besides the slow destruction of the universe?
    And stop looking at my suit, okay? I don’t like people staring at me. I’ve had enough humiliation. Next I’m supposed to teach a bunch of Zombies at U of T… That’s painful.
    You voted for this.
    So deal.

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