« Michele: Have You Seen Her? | Main | The Eschatologist: Running »

September 12, 2005

Volume 6, Issue 12

The radio alarm clock wakes you up with the following

"This is not a drill, if you haven't already, take......" static and then the power goes off.

Go ahead and hit the snooze bar now...

Bookmark: del.icio.us • Digg • reddit

Comments

Oh hell yes.

I grab my flak jacket and my KA-BAR and go through the attic to the roof perch. I look around.

It's happening. The big one. The apocalypse. War, famine, pestilence, death. Riots, floods, plague rats, zombies. Fire! The shaking of the earth and the heavens!

Really, if you aren't impressed by now, just stop reading. Go back to your Reader's Digest and leave the apocalypse to the grownups.

I go back inside and get:

My boots.

Rope.

Two gallons of fresh water.

A hand axe.

Nails.

My pistol.

And my big leather sack.

It's looting season, baby.

Posted by: G-Do at September 12, 2005 5:25 AM · Permalink

OK, stay calm. Others are looking to you for inspiration now, he thought to himself. If you go to pieces they will too. Vaulting the debris on the floor he sprang into action yelling instructions to the kids and gathering the necesseties that would be required for the coming agony. Next would be hours of yelling, pushing, shoving, blood and just plain icky stuff. He hoped he could stand up to it without passing out this time. He promised himself that this time, he would be there for her. As he opened the car door he watched as she strode quickly to the vehicle. She looked like a Madonna. Yes, pregnancy did bring out the "mother" in her. Too bad her damned mother couldn't call with a less jarring message.

Posted by: MIKE at September 12, 2005 6:48 AM · Permalink

The scene was repeated all over town.

Some cried; some ransacked store shelves; others went to the attic and opened the trunk with the war souvenir rifle and the box of ammunition.

The truth emerged later in the day, that it was all a hoax, or a mistake. NPR, on Morning Edition, had run a piece about a website called 100 Words or Les Nessman.

That night, a crowd went surging through the streets, an ugly crowd, bearing torches and pitchforks. And a rope.

They headed for the gloomy mansion on the hill just outside of town. The Nessman Place.

Posted by: ErnieG at September 12, 2005 7:59 AM · Permalink

I awaken to the morning radio newscaster. "This is not a drill, if you haven't already, take...” He’s cut off, replaced by a nasty hiss. I stumble to the bathroom. Wizz, brush, floss like a good boy, and shave.

Dressed in sweats, I begin my pre-breakfast stretch. Outside, sirens wail. This is not a good day for jogging. Yoga seems a better idea.

From the standing tadsana I flow to uttanasana, head down, arms hugging calves. I progress to baddha hasta padottanasana, legs apart, head still down. A blinding flash of light comes through the window as I kiss-my-asana goodbye.

Posted by: Amphioxus at September 12, 2005 11:40 AM · Permalink

I slapped the snooze alarm and went back to sleep, but the words kept invading my dreams. Take what? Shelter? The highway out of town? I didn't know, and worried it over and over in my mind, until I finally woke in a cold sweat.

I didn't know how long I had snoozed, all I knew was that I had to take ... what? The power was back, so I turned the radio on while I feverishly started getting dressed. Then I heard it again: "This is not a drill, if you haven't already, take your Ramroddin for faster, stronger erections ..."

Posted by: hnumpah at September 12, 2005 12:02 PM · Permalink

He stalks through the city, expressionless, emotionless. Behind him, debris from the ruined radio tower crushes cars, trees, people. He is unscathed.

He fires with each step, each bullet finding a pedestrian, a street vendor, a pet. Nothing changes his rhythm.

Squad cars slam to a halt around him; officers jump out, guns drawn. He doesn’t break stride as their bodies slump to the pavement.

Abruptly, a silver blur streaks downward to interdict his path. Journalists peering around corners are shocked as he finally halts. A smirk tugs a corner of his mouth.

"Captain Amazing – I was hoping you’d come."

Posted by: Keiran Halcyon at September 12, 2005 12:51 PM · Permalink

"...the whole family down to Sears! Be the first on your block to get the new PowerHoler 2000!" continued the radio announcer. The morning sun was bright enough that he hadn't noticed the power cutting off, so the failure of the station identification to play was his first indication he was no longer broadcasting.

"...your family to the nearest fallout shelter and await further instructions" was what fifty listeners assumed the rest was. Picayune only had one shelter, and when they arrived, after realizing their mistake, each and every one was startled to learn that KGOW had so many listeners.

Posted by: Jeff R. at September 12, 2005 2:14 PM · Permalink

Seconds later I have the gun safe open. For this sort of work, chaos and urban anarchy, the Thompson. Five 20 rounders and three 50 rounders should do it for now.

I knew my mission: to carve a blood-soaked path of homicidal mayhem across town to the house of the girl who'd turned me down for a date. Under the circumstances, it was the best say to say "I love you." And, in the end, isn't what love what life is about?

Posted by: David Hardy at September 12, 2005 8:42 PM · Permalink

I reached over and pressed the snooze button, not realizing that there was no power, and went back to sleep. I awoke later with the sun beaming in. 'Oh no,' I thought. 'I'm late for my class!' I grab my books and run to class across campus. I find that the classroom is empty and dark. 'Where is everybody?' I thought. I run through the dark building, finding no one. I go back outside and find the entire campus empty. In fact, vaccant vehicles are on the road and the engines running. Wow, it seems like everyone just...disappeared.

Posted by: John at September 13, 2005 12:19 AM · Permalink