Apocalypse. End of Days. Rapture. The second coming. T-Rexs with lasers. There has been some heavy bullshit laid out and spread around these past few weeks from all kinds of nutjobs. As much as I tried to avoid it, joke about it with friends, or disregard it as distractions from the real issues the world currently faces, these predictions have permeated my subconscious to the point that I dreamt of the end of the world. And although there is flooding in my hometown, tornadoes killing hundreds in the prairie states, corrupt governments killing their own civilians in countries around the world, nuclear power plants spewing radiation into the oceans and into the skies, and natural disasters wiping out thousands of innocent people in the blink of an eye, even though all these things are happening in the real world around us, I would like to take a moment to share with you my prophecy of how this world will come to it's end. I dreamt of the final minutes of my life, signifying the last stand of mankind, before I was overtaken by an angry hoard of mindless undead, soulless killing machines bent on destroying all human life.
Yes. A zombie apocalypse. It was awesome. I was a bad ass, complete with a tattered red head band, glistening bulging biceps, bandoleers over each shoulder, and war paint caked all over my snarling gritty face. Rambosquatch. I was fighting zombies in my dream last night, thousands of them. No one knew where they came from or why, all we knew was in order to live, we had to kill every one of those brain-sucking bastards before they killed us, and they had us severely outnumbered and were advancing against our last strong hold, the last vestige of human civilization. I was in command, fighting an endless sea of flesh eating monstrosities, their ranks stretching from horizon to horizon. My rag-tag unit of commandos were all that was left of humanity, and we were fighting; fighting with any weapons we could find, pitch forks, pistols, shot guns, machine guns, rocket launchers, flame throwers, and our bare hands.
I remember the final moments of last night's holocaust the most vividly. My second in command, a buxom raven-haired camouflaged-bikini-clad amazonian warrior woman, chewing on a cigar and sporting an onyx encrusted eyepatch stands next to me, looking out into the vast fields of the ravenous undead. Tumble week rolls in front of us as a desert wind picks up and tosses her mud caked curls playfully, reveling open scars on her stern war-worn yet some how soft and beautifully tan face. She is the perfect woman, graceful and savage, with a lust for life and a taste for blood. Without breaking her gaze of the battle field, in a sultry, smokey voice, she informs me...
"There are thousands of them, sir."
"Nothing we haven't handled before," I reply.
"They won't stop until they have ripped each one of us to pieces."
"Just like yesterday." I grind my teeth.
"They are getting harder to kill, somehow they seems smarter, faster..."
"I expected this day would come." My eyes narrow.
"They are scaling the walls of our compound, about to breech out defenses." For just a split second, there is a hint of panic in her tone.
"I am ready for them. We will prevail. We must prevail!" My voice is more that of an animal than of a man.
"They all have Kazoos!"
"Well, that's not good..."
Suddenly I am over taken by a mass of green and blue zombies, each wearing a paper party hat, holding balloons, and moaning away through shiny metal kazoos between their yellow rotten teeth. I find myself totally helpless as they descend upon me. This is how the world ends in my dreams. Not with a bang. Not with a fizzle. But rather with an endless, low, groaning buzz.