From the Desk of Qa’Sepel:
It’s December 31, 1999…five minutes to midnight. Five minutes to the big one; an occasion to be marked in some way, remembered, related to the grandchildren in the years to come. The trouble is that I’m not a party animal. Give me a red nose, a glass of tequila, an armchair, and I’ll be happy to watch the festivities on TV.
The trouble is that they cut the power off in August. My needs are simple. As long as I have enough to eat, a little to drink, a reliable supply of cigarettes, a warm room, a decent book, and a TV, I’m happy.
And what I need right now is a slice of toast, lightly buttered, smeared with cream cheese.
The trouble is that they cut the power off in August. It was like this…A rumor persisted that all the computers in all the world were set to go berserk as the clock chimed for the twelfth time on this very night. People panicked and withdrew all of their money from the banks in July.
The Result? I’m sitting here, four minutes away from the year 2000 with a TV that does not work, toaster that does not toast, and Goddammit woman, I will complain about it! Whose idea was it to board up the doors and windows anyhow? Just take a peek through the crack. There’s nobody there. It’s a wasteland out there. Sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you. Hey, my grandfather’s old watch says it’s time. Let’s light those last cigarettes and sing our song together…1,2,3:
The dog just ate the margarine,
She’s writhing on the floor.
Snatched it when our backs were turned
She won’t steal anymore
And if I was the only boy in the world,
And you were the only girl
We’d fight like hell.
O.K. It doesn’t rhyme, but at least it’s ours.