The Kids was Bored

The kids was bored and so, to sharpen them up, we telled them that the world was going to end in 10 minutes – boom – just like that. And they said ‘well, what’s that got to do with us?’ and we said that when the world ends then we all end and that means you and me and they said ‘does that mean that we will be dead?’ and we said ‘yes’.

Course we was not really sure if they knew what dead meant, what with them only being eight and all that, but they seemed to take it seriously enough. Their little foreheads creased up and their eyes went kinda far away as if they was thinking and then they said ‘so that means that we don’t get to have lunch’ and we thought to ourselves that this was typical of what kids was like – always thinking about their bellies or whatever was about them, them, them. Selfish little buggers. So we said ‘yeah, no lunch’ and then, just for wickedness, we said ‘and then straight to bed.

Course this was a really stupid thing to say because if the world was going to end and all of that then there wasn’t going to be no bed time as such except to say that it’d be bed time for all of us if you know what I mean. The big sleep and all of that.

Luckily they didn’t twig on. So, with only three minutes left to the world we thought that perhaps it’d be alright because the kids didn’t say much after that They just sat, picking their noses and watching the clock as it ticked towards one, which is when ten minutes was going to be up. Cunning buggers. Cunning and cute and all sorts of stuff like that. When it pinged one they just jumped up and said ‘yaaaaa, world didn’t end; another game!’ and so we had to think of another one.

Still, they wasn’t bored no more so I guess that’s one upside to the world ending.

Continuity Assumption

The continuity assumption states that accounting systems assume that a business will continue to operate. The importance of the continuity assumption becomes most clear if you consider the ramifications of assuming that a business won’t continue. If a business won’t continue, it becomes very unclear how one should value assets if the assets have no resale value. If a business won’t continue operations, no assurance exists that any of the inventory can be sold. If the inventory can’t be sold, what does that say about the owner’s equity value shown in the balance sheet?

Understanding the Basic Principles of Accounting by Stephen L. Nelson

Pandemic? Don’t worry – it’s not the end of the world.

Southern Death Cult

Back when I was a teenager there used to be a band called The Cult (maybe they’re still going (I hope so)) and they were brill. Sort of like high-energy rock with a gothic twist. One of the best bands I’ve ever seen live – they played until they ran out of songs, so you can’t say fairer than that.

Before they were The Cult they were called The Southern Death Cult. What a fantastic name for a band! It sure what it meant, but it summons up interesting images.

Anyways, I’m in the BKs and I want to leave. It’s not as… sticky as, say The Moonies – there’s no actual brain-washing involved, but still – it’s difficult enough.

There’s a whole lifestyle behind it, you see. And my wife’s one of ’em. And they have some views that I don’t share about the end of the world being nigh and I plan to live to 120 so it doesn’t go down well when I express something like that.

Anyways – I want to leave. Any ideas?

The Road South

I’m a nice guy. You’d like me if we met. I’d strike you at first as being kind of shy; I have this way of holding my head as if I want to talk to you but I’m not sure that I can. But once you open me up with a couple of glasses of something strong and a well-chosen bag of snacks, I’ll go all night.

Oh, no – wait – not like that. I’m not the kind of man that can be bought so cheaply. We have to talk deep and long about life and love and commitment before I’ll let you go there. Unless, of course, you want to. I mean, I’m an open-minded guy at heart.

So, here’s the thing, we’re going on a road trip tomorrow. It’s all prepared. Got the shopping trolly all stacked up with whatever cans of food we had left from the raids we did on the neighbours. They didn’t mind so much. They’re all dead. And yes, of course, I’m sad about that on one level, but it was a while ago and we need that food.

We watched a movie called The Road before it happened. Adapted from the book of the same name by Cormac McCarthy. That’s where we got the idea to go south. In the movie, they’re always heading south. They ‘won’t survive the cold’, if they don’t. And neither will we.

Who’d have thought that a movie like that would become our bible! We had no clue when we were sat working down a big bowl of popcorn that night, that the world as we knew it (thanks R.E.M.) would end the very next day. Thing is, though – when the bugs hit (at least that’s what we reckoned happened), we felt anything but fine. We were knocked out; absolutely zonked for a week. Graham Crackers were all we could manage to eat, and even then it was a struggle to get through the plastic. A week later and we tried a can of soup. Took us all day to get into it. Then we found out that the gas was off. Cold soup. Crackers. Thing is, though – it tasted wonderful.

We wondered why it was so quiet until we started to knock on doors. We had to do that because the internet was down. And the TV and the radio and the telephones. All of it – dead. And power was off too.

I was confused. We talked about it, but it was as if we were talking about the moon landings or life on Pluto. There was this kind of disconnect. Sleep. Wander around the house in a daze. So quiet outside. Why so quiet?

Eventually, I started to think. Then we went a knocking. The first call was Betty and Jo. They were lesbians, but we’d come to terms with that long ago. I mean, I know the Good Book says that they shouldn’t; but they did, and they weren’t struck down and so, well – we thought if God’s not going to do anything then neither are we.

They didn’t answer the door on the first knock. Or the fourth. So we used the key under the mat. Boy, you’ve never seen such a mess. The place was trashed. And the stink? Unbelievable. We found them in the bathroom. Both of them were naked and leant over, one at the bath and the other at the toilet. Don’t know why they bothered; there were pools of vomit on every surface.

Of course, they were dead. You would be too if your body was covered with so many sores. Some of them were straight through to the bone. Looked like some sort of acid attack but I don’t think so. Anyway, we didn’t look too close; we got out of there pronto.

Canada gets awful cold in the winter. Summer doesn’t last forever and what with all the power being off. There were generators. But even they didn’t work. The electricity hadn’t just gone off. It’d gone away. Like the tech just didn’t work. No, not the tech; the law. The law of whatever makes electricity and magnetism work was just turned off.

We didn’t know why until we saw the ships. Yeah, you know what kind of ships.

So it’s south for us. Night travel because of you-know-what. Packed up the trolley like I said. Sat him safely on top facing forward. And there’s the road, just like in the movie.

I tell you, if I didn’t have Teddy Booboo to talk to, then I swear I’d go stark, raving mad.

Dry Violence

I must say that I was rather impressed by how much blood pooled into the carpet beneath his body. I would give him a name, but you know as well as I do that names are for thinking, doing beings and he’s none of those. Some people like to name other things, but we both know they’re wrong-headed to do that. Stuffed animals, towers, streets, stones. None of them deserves to be called anything other than what they are: corpses.

He protested a lot at the thought of being dead. I was quite surprised considering how much he told me about his longing for death on the forum. Our first meeting was spent comparing scars. The slashes on our arms. The chunks out of our knees. The way his face was annihilated by the acid. Mine too.

It seemed strange to me that there would be a support group that was so specifically targeted. You wouldn’t think that acid-attack victims would be that common in the DC area. Not that many Indians. Not that many crazies. Happens all the time in the motherland; but here? In the land of the free? Still, I’m glad there was. Gave me an opportunity. I like opportunities.

One of the best nights of my life, apart from this one, of course, was the one I spent on the roof of our apartment block. You remember the one. We sang to the stars after three glasses of wine and howled at the moon after our second bottle. Then we had one heck of a shag. Yeah, I know you remember. I was surprised and you were delighted that you could even get it up. Good times.

We should go now. There’s only an hour before dawn and I don’t want the sun to see me looking like this. Too much of cliche you might say. Blood-stained woman sitting in arm-chair watching death march across the world, claiming one more victim. Not a cliche? You obviously don’t know me as well as you think you do.

Where to? Home. Obviously. There’s nothing to stop us. The zombies don’t come out in the night. Only the day. Only ten minutes walk and we’ll be there. Two flights of stairs; step around the corpses in the lobby. There are three wrecks on this street and two on the next. Heck, we even have time to dip into the convenience store on 18th. Pick up a can of something nice for breakfast.

Damn, but this chair is comfy. Time for a snooze before we go? I believe so. Snuggle me. Be sure to wake me in five. Okay, ten. But no more.


Where are you? Turn off the light. Light? No!