Part III – Are You Really Still Reading This
I woke up the next morning as the night sky began to lighten
and I sprung out of my sleeping bag and out of my tent. I wanted to get up on
the finger ridge behind us before the sun did so I could watch the very last
sunrise ever. I made it to the top just in time for the few clouds over the Whetstone Mountains to start changing color.
There weren’t many clouds in the sky, but they were all in
the right spot to give a show that did not disappoint. I have seen better
sunrises, but I couldn’t complain since I might not see another one. The sun
actually popped up a little further south along the horizon. As the sun arched
over the Biscuit Mountain and the rest of the Mustangs, I
thought it fitting that it would accent such a prominent image of my childhood.
Memories of my childhood came rushing through my head as if a dam had been
breached somewhere in a place I forgot existed.
I was content.
I have had a pretty great life up to this point and if God
was going to tell me my time was up today, I was alright with that. Good times,
bad times, mistakes and triumphs, I was satisfied that I had made the most of
the life I had been given. I was ready to sit in my chair, in front of the fire
and watch the end of the world in all its grandeur.
But first breakfast.
I had decided that after I fed the pups I would cook me up some corned beef and
hash—not a bad potential last meal if I do say so myself. Up until that point
the cans that I had to open for the dog food and dinner the night before were all
the fancy pull top lids, but that was not going to be the case for my
Albertson’s brand corned beef and hash. So I dug through my camp box for my can
opener . . . Nothing. Okay, well then I will dig through my backpack for my
little emergency can opener . . . Not there.
Really?!
 |
| I had a lot of paper weights. |
I stood there looking at all the cans I brought that did not
have the new fancy pull lids and thought to myself, ‘how am I supposed to
survive this brave new post-apocalyptic world if I can’t even remember to bring
a can operner?’ Oh well at least my dogs won’t starve as long as they can find
someone else to open their cans when I do.
Then I remembered my great-grandfather’s multi-tool that I
had been given years back (I think it was in my original end of the world kit).
I had already gotten it out because I had been made painfully aware that I had
also forgotten to pack a spoon – I’m batting a thousand on this trip! So I
pulled it out and, sure enough, it had one of those old school hook-shaped can
openers on it that they would show on old Tom & Jerry cartoons. Watching
those cartoons was the only reason I knew what it was or how it works. I tried it out and after a while perfecting the technique, the can
was no match for me.
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| Don't let your parents tell you cartoons only rot your brains, kids |
With breakfast out of the way and still no sign of the
apocalypse, I spent the morning fixing the holes Gehenna put in my tent the
night before. Not exactly how I envisioned spending my last morning, but if I was
going to play out my Mad Max visions, my tent would have to make it long enough
for me to perfect my pithouse. That’s right, I am bringing back the Hohokam
pithouse as my habitation of choice at least for the first decade or so of my
stint beyond Thunderdome. I figure after the 20 or so I have excavated I could
probably perfect the process by the second or third attempt.
 |
| Nothing says 'Post-apocalyptic warrior' like living in a mud hut. |
After fixing the mosquito netting of my tent and grabbing a
quick bite of Campbell’s
Soup for lunch I decided it was a good time to turn on the radio to hear about
the chaos that was sure to be ensuing in the big city at that very moment. The
first song I heard was Ænema by Tool
. . . Clearly a sign. But lo, that was not the case. The DJs on every station I
turned to were going on like it was just another day despite the epic battle
that was going on all around them. A likely story. I wasn’t going to be fooled
by their mass media conspiracy to mislead the public.
I turned off the radio and went over to finish the last bit
of my can of soda. As the last bit of liquid hit my tongue I noticed a fuzzy
object mixed in with the expected and instantly spit it all out. I knew exactly
what it was. Just as I expected, in the area where the liquid landed was a
stunned little bee trying to process what had just happened. Man, that would
have been a rough way to spend my last few hours.
 |
| They Mayans sent you, didn't they?! |
All the excitement, I was ready to spend the afternoon in my
chair writing what could be my last musings. I guess it had better be good. As
I sat into my chair I noticed a spider crawling where I was about to sit. It
reminded me of a scene from Seeking a
Friend for the End of the World where Steve Carell has just found out that
there are only two weeks left until an asteroid will strike the earth and kill
us all. He turns on the light in his bathroom and sees a spider in the sink.
His first reaction is to grab something to smash it but hesitates in mid-swing.
After a brief pause he turned the light back off and let the spider live out
its last few days. He goes to sleep and the next scene starts with him driving
into work with several presumed spider bites up his face. ‘Well Mr. Spider, I
never intended on killing you,’ I thought as I scooted him off the chair. ‘I
would appreciate it if I did not wake up with bites all over my face.
 |
| Oddly enough they are all better the next day? |
The afternoon and evening passed uneventfully as I enjoyed
some spam (with reduced sodium – gotta think heart healthy you know) and corn
for dinner. Still no sign the world was about to end. As I settled into my
chair in front of the fire, I looked up at the moon. It was bright and had one
of those rings around it—really beautiful. But high clouds were moving in and
blocking all the other heavenly bodies, save Venus. ‘Not going to be much of a
show tonight. I should really stay up until midnight though – don’t want to
miss the action!’
 |
| High clouds, nothing! This is the work of the Mayans! |
Once again, I did not make it to 9pm.
But I woke up in the middle of the night again to relieve
some bladder pressure and this time I made a concerted effort to check the
time. 3am. Well Looks like I survived the Mayan onslaught. Tomorrow I will
begin my effort to bring civilization back to the world – but until then I
could use a couple more hours of sleep.
 |
| No apocalypse, Tommy Boy need sleepy. |
The next morning I went on a nice long hike with my pups,
ate some breakfast and started a small fire with nothing out of the ordinary
happening. By noon I had mused a bit more and decided it was a good time to
check the radio again. Sure enough, everyone was going on like the world hadn’t
ended yesterday.
I decided I was not going to take the word of the lying
media, but the distant sound of a chainsaw and ATV’s indicated that people were
going back to their regularly scheduled program. I had to investigate first
hand to see the Mayan atrocities. So I cleaned up my camp site (always leave
your camp cleaner than when you got there kids!) and headed out.
On the way back I had to go through the Border Patrol
checkpoint . . . it was still there?!
Wouldn’t you know it; everything else was as it had always been too as I
made my trek back to my house. Those darn Mayans lied to me! See if I ever
trust a Mayan again . . . maybe I shouldn’t have cashed out my 401k.
Until next we meet.
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