The world has finally ended.
After 25 years of waiting, it finally happened—the first good thing in my life—and all it took was one idiot bombing another.
To be honest, I didn't have time to understand the details of the war. Roughly, country A had more bombs than country B, so country A bombed country B before country B could bomb them. It's confusing. Like I said: one idiot bombing another.
In the meantime, I was working. Until an hour ago, when everything fell apart. Funny how I was worried about my deadline tomorrow while the world was ending.
On the roof, it was so dark it made the missiles and gunshots pop out more. They painted the sky over my town.
I expected to see more stars since the power was out, but I guess it's not that dark after all.
The internet is also down, which is fucking relieving. No stress about whether the story I posted made me look old or unattractive. No anxiety about whether the girl I want to sleep with saw my photo, or if the girl I'm currently seeing figured out I'm also seeing others.
Now I can finally relax and enjoy the show. There's beauty in the way mass-murder shots cross the sky like fireworks.
It's so much simpler when you know who the enemy is. Who you're supposed to hate. What you need to do to be happy.
Right now, I'm happy. On this rooftop with my cold beer, watching the missiles, with screams from the streets as my soundtrack.
Oh yeah, and on top of the bombs, they used some bioweapons. So there'll probably be zombies or monsters too. Who knows?
Either way, it's gonna be fun.
Once it quiets down, I'll go to the countryside. Find a big farm. Learn agriculture—because why not? It'll be useful now that everyone's going to die. Then I'll raise animals, build a bigger house, read some books, go hiking—whatever gets me close to Mother Nature. Everything at my own pace. No rush. No rent. No food bills. Just basic survival.
I always knew the end of the world would be peaceful.
Anyway, this is my goodbye and fuck you to capitalism. I hope everyone dies. Viva le zombies.
I raised my beer and an explosion consumed a building miles away.
---
That was just a joke for future generations, but I meant every word in that video. I hope whoever finds it—and someone will, because that's how it always goes—gets a good laugh out of it. I would, at least.
Now that I've made my peace, I should probably figure out what kind of doomsday this is.
I hope the zombies aren't fast. I don't like running. My legs are weak. I prefer the slow, ugly ones. They're easier to handle. Kind of comforting. You know what they're going to do, and they don't do sneak attacks or sprints.
Monsters I can't handle. I thought, pressing my ear to the door to check for weird noises. People are always the most dangerous and unpredictable.
But monsters are ugly as fuck—and they've got powers. Not fun, man. Not at all.
Shit, I'm still talking to myself. That's probably the new normal.
There's no one outside. Should be safe to go back home. Most folks already left for the army shelters. They probably took the good stuff with them.
Walking down the narrow staircase, I really hoped I could still take a hot bath. Work today was terrible. My boss complained about the missed deadline, how it would make him look bad, blah blah blah.
Thank God the world is over.
Before entering the residential floor, I checked for noise and movement. No one appeared, so I moved to my apartment down the hall.
Inside, a few lights were on—probably the generators—so I could take a hot bath before it became a luxury.
My neighbors were all gone. I'll finally get to peek at their apartments. I bet Mr. Shu has some butt plugs hidden away. Dirty old man.
Entering my one-bedroom, bachelor apartment, I noticed it looked just as bad as the outside world. Guess it was foreshadowing.
To speed things up, I tossed some noodles in the microwave and headed to the shower.
"Damn, I look like shit."
In the mirror, a tired 25-year-old with bags under his eyes and a messy haircut stared back. I never thought I was butt ugly. After a shower and shaving, I was kind of decent.
I wonder if Melani—my ex—survived. Her fiancé looked like a softie. Probably got her killed already. Pussy. That's what you get for cheating.
Turning the handle, I closed my eyes to savor the delicious, warm water. Never in my life had I felt so light. I could enjoy the water running down my body. Actually take time to let the seconds pass without rushing to bed for another shitty morning at work.
[System activated]