R.E.M – It’s The End Of The World As We Know It

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“Yo you good?”

“I feel fine…you?”

“I’ve never been so alive.”

“Good one.”

It’s been two weeks since they announced the end of the world. No one’s tried to save it. The damage was done before anyone alive was born, and as an inevitability since Day 1, the general consensus was ‘fuck it.’

Much better to make the best out of whatever time was left – in this state of mind exist Noah and Abe. By chance the two friends had been at a party when the apocalypse was announced, by choice they hadn’t stopped since.

Hedonism is living for pleasure, they’d decided to die in gluttony. Food they’d never eat, drugs they’d never do, people too – each helped the other live out wild fantasies by any means necessary. 

Can’t face a consequence if there’s no time to get to it.

This line of reasoning was a mantric justification repeated in as many different ways as was necessary to justify their many different morally reprehensible deeds. Neither one felt good about what they’d done, nor what they planned to do.

The T.V. stations broadcast a live countdown to calamity, one last dash for ratings – the clock is on the final hour but seconds never seemed so long.

“Ready?”

“No. This isn’t fair.”

“It’s not, but it’s just the way things are. Fuck were we supposed to do?”

Their walk to the roof is short but not sweet; up so high the air reeks of pollution. A look off the ledge shows wreckage below.

“So…”

One of them pulls out a phone; the time is getting near, running out.

“Look.”

Strangers surface on the surrounding rooftops, stare at each other; it doesn’t take familiarity to think the same thing.

“At least we’re not alone.”

Birds start the trend, those that are passing by drop from the sky – a person far away follows – PLT – closer – FTT – then it’s the duo’s turn and they go together – SPLT – FWAK.

“Ow.”

“What the fuck.”

A scream in the distance. “Why aren’t we – oh God your face!”

“Did your hip always look like that?”

The phone is back out, time at zero – an emergency broadcast shows an immaculately suited newscaster.

“This just in: the pollutant responsible for the catastrophe has …synthesized into our…we’re sure this is right?” The newscaster shuffles his papers. “The air we’ve made ruin the world has, for some reason, turned humans immortal.”

Everyone is mangled, and the world destroyed. “You mean we have to live like this?!”

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