just goofing around – Page 94 – Michael Seidel, writer

The end of the world was coming in fourteen minutes, according to the news reports on television.

He checked his phone. Still no bars. The news said that the phone system was overloaded and several satellites had already been lost. Fox, NBC, CBS, ABC, and MSNBC were all saying the same thing. He couldn’t check the net because it was still down, probably so they could control the information. Control information, and you control the mind.

Yeah, it was all fake news and bullshit. Bleating to control the masses. Opening a beer, he turned the channel, searching for a ball game or some kind of sports distraction. Weird, but no baseball or basketball games were in progress anywhere. ESPN was off the air. So were the cable sports networks. He slammed his beer down, spilling some. Such fucking bullshit! This was a bigger hoax than the goddamn moon landing.

He turned on the oven and prepared to bake a frozen pizza. Better than nothing, because going out would require human contact and most humans that he encountered were idiots.

Glancing outside, he realized that he was hearing a growing roar. Well, what the hell is going on out there, he wondered. Picking up his gun, he went to the door and stepped out.

His last words were, “What the – “

Then the fake news slammed into him, disintegrating his body, gun, and home.

The cycles of life came in the mail. Credit card invitations when he was young. Cable and Internet deals in his middle age. House and window cleaning services as he aged, followed by landscaping and financial planning, then house-painting and payday loans.

As he reached his mid-fifties, AARP became friendly, as did companies like Prudential, offering planning assistance, worrying if he was saving enough for retirement. Cruise and vacation suggestions came every week. Everyone became concerned about his estate and his will. Hearing-aid flyers were frequently received. Then came funeral and cremation services, with coupons and discounts!

Reaching his mid-sixties brought flyers and letters for Medicare plans. Of course, every two years through it all were pieces from politicians, PACs, and political parties asking for a little money, pleading their cases, railing against one another, and demanding change.

Coming with weekly persistence regardless of the year or his age were advertisements from his local stores, catering to the holidays and time of year.

Fondly he remembered his past mail as he perused the latest offering from an assisted living residence and dropped it into the recycling bin, letting his imagination run wild about what his future mail would bring.