Who’s going to clean up this mess?

Certainly not me. Nope. I don’t plan to be around after the disaster strikes. That is Disaster with a capital D. You know the one I’m talking about. The One they call the Apocalypse, which means Armageddon to all you who don’t speak Apocalypseze.

It can be anything. A really bad ass disease that wipes out a third of the population on Planet Three to that big whopping meteor that strikes the heart of New York City to that nuke that wipes out half the East Coast of the good old U. S. of A. The way things are going it could very well be a bit of all of these.

Or it just might be the little greenies landing in their giant ufos, offering to be our friends. Then when we give them the old Boy Scout, they pop out our lights.

You can survive the Big A if you want, but not moi. ‘Cause I don’t want to be around to clean up the mess. No sirree.

And there is always a mess. I’ve seen the movies and the aftermath is not pretty. We’re mutants or we get religion or we’re cannibals because there is not enough food to go around and we find ourselves eating Solyent Green. Yuck. You ever taste that stuff. It makes anchovies taste like chocolate cake. Not that I am partial to chocolate cake.

My plan, and I think it’s a very good one, is to sit out on my back lawn with a big tub of popcorn and a keg of beer. Then I will raise my mug and toast the Apocalypse and watch the fireworks with a big whopping smile on my face. I might even do it to the soundtrack of Bugs Bunny singing, “On with the show. This is it.”

I can hear you saying, “But you’re going to die.” Okay by me. Like the man said, “We all gotta go some time.” And what a way to go.

What do you expect me to do? Hide under a desk and hope for the best? That was the school drill Civil Service gave us in the fifties when the alarm went off that we were under nuclear attack from the Russkies.

Nope. That’s not for me. Like I say, I don’t want to be around to clean up the mess. And, as you can see, I will be the mess.

I am not the only one. I have it on good report from some preacher on the radio that Jesus came back May, 2012, just as expected. He showed up, took one look around and next thing He said was: “I’m not cleaning up this mess. I’m outta here.” So much for the Rapture.

So if Jesus ain’t cleaning up the mess and I ain’t, who’s it gonna be? Any volunteers?

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