I once dreamt that I was gunned down. My hands, poor shields, tore open without a sound. My right cheek and right row of teeth were shattered, sprayed off. I could only crawl, and crawling, only feebly hide from my exterminator. The exterminator walked up, took his time, aimed, and shot calmly—over and over. At last, only my arm offered the motility to slug along the ground; I bled along the ground as I crawled. The chewed rags of my cheek swept along too. I saw from a worm’s height. I lifted the shreds of my left hand to block the final bullet. Again, my exterminator took his time, walked very close, aimed at my face—to smear it out—and, without hesitation, perhaps without much interest, my exterminator fired his gun.
Now here is a recipe for the end of days:
Apocalypso Lemonade
Ingredients:
1 species of lemon tree, burnt
1 shot of sperm
2 reproductively active humans
3 cups of glacier, melted
Directions:
In a blender, combine lemon tree, sperm, humans, and melted glacier.
Blend until smooth.
Pour into the ocean.
But what is a cocktail without some mood music? But what is the proper instrument for one’s last bit of music and cocktail? For me, it would be the piano, scintillating piano. Under the tinkle of a piano, a person could happily slow dance with their exterminator. But what song? That is simple to answer: I composed my own song (without melody) for piano:
Piano Man, where’s your head?
Why all this red?
$15 piano wire and a bridge,
And a leap,
A choking slice and clean,
Quick, and cheap.
Jonathan van Belle is a copy editor for Outlier.org, an online education platform. He previously worked as a bookseller at Powell’s City of Books. Jonathan is the author of several books, all available online, and is currently working on his first book for Deep Overstock Publishing.