Ten Short Apocalypses (Numbers 6-10)

Apocalypse #6

The lesson learnt here was: ‘Uncoordinated partying can cause trouble.’  When 95% of the population of the world decided to party at exactly the same time there were not enough people left looking after everything responsibly to prevent the world ending.  I found this apocalypse particularly annoying as I was part of the 5% left at home.  At the post-mortem I was firmly in support of the implementation of a ‘Global Party Rota’ to ensure that this kind of thing was never allowed to happen again.

Apocalypse #7

Clothes shrinkage was to blame for this apocalypse.  It would not have been such a catastrophe were the fashion at the time not suits of armour.  But there was no warning and pretty soon we were all in our shrinking suits of armour becoming squashed mince humans in handy tins.  Maybe it was something to do with the earth’s atmosphere.  Maybe we all went the same way as the dinosaurs.  Maybe they all had suits of armour too.

Apocalypse #8

Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly. Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.  Crumbly.

Apocalypse #9

On a bright summer’s afternoon I was stood, with a number of other people, peering over a garden fence and I was cheering and shouting encouragement.  On the other side of the fence Giancarlo Cummerbundo, the famous Italian detective was busy working on his latest case.  It was an honour to have the old master of Mediterranean mystery at work in our small village and so quite a crowd had congregated, lining the fences on three sides of the garden which Giancarlo was inspecting very thoroughly.  “Go on Giancarlo!” somebody shouted whilst others squealed and a small group started performing a conga with his name worked into a song.  Some less impressed observers shouted things like, “Get a grip Cummerbundo!” and, “There’s a sodding great big footprint over there that you’ve missed you daft fool.”  It all proved to be immaterial as, without warning, the sky ran black with apocalypse (easy to recognise by now), as though someone had a great big marker pen and was scratching the world from existence.  This was pretty much exactly what was happening and we all watched the gradual obliteration.  I cannot say that Giancarlo Cummerbundo took it with dignity.  Instead he ran around shouting and sobbing and generally acting hysterically and it became a source of great sadness that as the world ended I lost all respect for one of my heroes.

Apocalypse #10

The bees began to leave in mysterious, uninterested drones that left us with no honey and, as it later transpired, in an agricultural mess with no way of producing much of the food items we rely on.  We all sat around and wondered where the bees had gone.  Perhaps they had gone to another planet to make honey for aliens.

.

.

The first five apocalypses I experienced can be read here: https://digestivepress.wordpress.com/2008/08/17/ten-short-apocalypses-numbers-1-5/

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s