The Pacifists Armageddon

Post LXXX

Here’s the story of decorations, annihilation, and Rudolph.

The world ends on Friday. Say goodbye to your loved ones and make sure you fully utilize your coupons and vouchers. Because if you go to heaven, I’m pretty sure they’ll be useless, and you’ll spend eternity wondering what you would have looked like in that darling frock. Of course, I’m kidding. The world isn’t going to end on Friday. If you live in Japan, it’ll be Saturday.

My last week on Earth. What to do? Well, I’m British, so I’ll carry on as usual. I’ll justify it by saying my actions have relevance to the upcoming apocalypse. I have a dentist appointment on Monday. The world is ending, what’s the point? I must look nice for God. Off to do some Christmas shopping this week. The world is ending, what’s the point? Well, I could give the bought items to Jebus as a birthday gift. The food in the fridge, it’ll go off when I’m not around; I’ll give it all to the homeless. What’s the point? It’s the only way I stand any chance of getting into heaven, to be honest.

Of course, in reality, the world has just as much chance of ending on Friday as it does on Tuesday, and just as much chance on Tuesday as it did last week. In fact, anything is possible at any time. The issue here is probability, and scaremongers are hell-bent on intertwining that with made-up ‘facts’.

It is possible that a magical leprechaun with a multi-coloured Mohican haircut will show up in my room and start dry humping the furniture, because a hobo, let’s call him Julius, told me so. The probability of that happening, is slim. Hilariously slim. The probability of the world ending on Friday is equal to the probability of it ending any other day of the year, ergo we shouldn’t be any more frightened of it happening this week than we should of it happening now. The hobo in this analogy is the Mayans. And they’re dry humping the hell out of our brains at the moment.

Of course, if the world does end on Friday or Saturday, it’s not because the Mayans are right. It’s because God has a sense of humour. In any case, if the world does end before my next post, I’d like you guys to know that I love you all so very much and the last two years with you all have been a pleasure. Now, where’s the escape shuttle to Mars?

In the meantime, I focused on my Christmas decorations. Oh yes, I want the house to look pretty when the angels come knocking on Friday. And on that day, I’ll hide behind the sofa like when the Jehovah’s Witnesses come knocking. I just hope the angels can’t pass through walls. I might need to get some lead.

Regardless, the decorations. Every year it’s down to me. Every year I decorate the entire house. Mother and father often say to me, “Well, you enjoy doing it so much, so we’ll let you do it”. There’s only so much tinsel one man can take. It’s just laziness on their part. That or being over 60 and suffering a terrible chest infection are somehow a hindrance.

I guess there are worse things in life. Cleaning the drains. Emptying the dishwasher. Scooping Rudolph from the wall at the side of the house that he collided in to. Mashing his cold, dead carcass up in a blender to give to the neighbour kids, whom I infinitely hate, as a delightful Christmas smoothie. Fooling them that his bright red nose on the top edge of the glass is a cherry and the straw that suspiciously looks like a hollowed out antler isn’t so. So yes, I guess there are worse things in life.

Building the tree is fun. We’ve had an artificial tree since imps started nesting in the real one. Unfortunately, the stickers have all come off the pieces. These stickers are colour coordinated, and indicate where each of the branches go, so now it’s just a guessing game. Sometimes looks like a tree. Often looks like a hedge that’s been thrown off a cliff.

Decorating it is fun. I put far too many decorations on it, sometimes causing it to fall over on top of me, leaving me stranded in an empty house with an extremely heavy tree on me. It’s like that episode of Doctor Who. Occasionally, it is I that does the falling. I fell over it once. It’s always in an alcove and I was round the back, an impressive feat, I must say. I had to clamber over the tree to get back round to the front and I tripped over it and fell to the ground, badly spraining my wrist. Still, it made for a funny true story, so it’s okay.

The outside lights were next and that often leads to many precarious moments on a ladder on less than firm ground. I have yet to fall over, but I’m waiting for the day. Then it was onto the random decorations around the house and finally, always finally, the fairy for the top of the tree.

It’s been in the family for just over 40 years. It was handed down to my dad by his dad on my father and mothers wedding day. Strange wedding gift for April. But still, the thought was nice. The fairy is old, tatty, raggedy, and falling to pieces with a head stuck on with Blue-Tack, but we all love her. Sitting proudly atop the tree.

Yes, it’s Christmas again, and now it’s truly arrived with the decorations going up. How wonderful life can be this time of year, united as a species against hate and prejudice, united in love, honour and respect, firm in our understanding that no evil shall ever overcome us.

American fantasy and science-fiction short story and novel writer, Roger Zelazny (1937-1995) once said: “Don’t wake me for the end of the world unless it has very good special effects”.

Peace Out :|:

(I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post by clicking here and scrolling down to the bottom of the page. Feel free to check out my second and third blogs. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks)

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