The Marshmallow Apocalypse

The problem with the 12/21/2012 prophecy is that the Mayans aren’t around any longer, so no one will be able to sue their tanned asses if the apocalypse doesn’t pan out.

Story by Phil Sick - frankmachine@hotmail.com Illustrations by Maureen Keeney

Photo ©Maureen Keeney

This pending Mayan apocalypse has pretty much made its way into my writing ever since I picked up the pen. When I referred to it in a 1998 fanzine called Torazine, (I started writing when I was about nineteen) I thought I was the coolest geek on the block. It was catching on, of course, but only among nerds at first. When the prophecy started to go mainstream, I stopped saying “But, what if the Mayans were right?” In time, history channels and books on the subject started to surround me. It was practically everywhere. At that point I was forced to ask my lawyer/shrink/caretaker Mr. Drynan if I could take legal action against it.

“You say it is harassment, but who exactly do you want to sue this time, Phil?”

“Well, the apocalypse… you goddamned moron… Who else?! Gee, sometimes I wonder why I pay you people…”

“Phil, I work pro bono…”

“Right… Sorry.”

My cousin found a Dr. Seuss Apocalypse book, with the Grinch delivering the ending of all endings. I actually thought that National Geographic and other documentary people had to be in cahoots with the Mayans. Time machines do exist… the history channel fellas made one. At first they only wanted to go back a couple of years and bet on the great World Series, on the Olympics and the World Cup… but somehow they went way, way back and ran into the Mayans. The idea, since betting offices would have to wait a few thousand years, was to convince these smart savages to come up with a super accurate calendar with a nice apocalypse in it. Once the crew made it back to the 1990’s, they’d start writing books and shooting documentaries about this load of apocalyptic bullshit they laid upon us. Thing is, the time machine was sort of a one-way ticket. Its battery ran out and there were no scientists around to fix it. Only priests, fond of human blood. Eventually, the History Channel guys were devoured by some king or high priest who venerated a great flesh-eating god. It may have been Chtuluh, if I’m not mistaken. Right, Lovecraft also invented a time machine now that I think about. Of course, it was a vintage version… something out of a Jules Verne story. Better stop here. I could go on forever.

Photo ©Maureen Keeney

The problem with the 12/21/2012 prophecy is that the Mayans aren’t around any longer, so no one will be able to sue their tanned asses if the apocalypse doesn’t pan out. Imagine all those fat folks building bunkers and stuffing them with canned foods, Coca-Cola, and humongous bags of chips, along with automatic rifles, bullets, porn, and maybe holy water, all those mad folks that are selling all their assets because some dude with a long white beard told them to. Imagine their faces once they find out the only real apocalypse is inside their heads, while their guru is getting frisky with their loved ones. Let’s all get naked, oh wise one. Tons of people are spending big bucks to reach the Pic de Bugarach, in France, in order to be abducted by aliens or to be part of some other kind of rapture which might not even happen yet. Can you sue your guru if shit doesn’t hit the fan like he predicted? Can you sue your psychic if he told you it was going to happen and it didn’t? Can you sue yourself for being such a gullible idiot? Well my dear Ray of Light, or Shanti, or whatever your “new” name is, the big news is that your guru probably won’t be there on that French hill with you on December 21st. He will still be in France, that I can tell you, but perhaps in Monte Carlo in a gambling frenzy, with a glass of champagne in one hand and a Russian model in the other… until he runs out of money of course. Probably your money, but that doesn’t matter anymore does it? That same money that was supposed to buy you and your loved ones some form of spiritual whatchamacallit that would allow the aliens to descend upon you. Ah ah ah… Sorry, I just can’t help you.

If you’re detecting some bitterness, you’re right. No, I didn’t give all my savings to some Indian hermit that is now living large in the Hamptons, no way. Thing is, I wanted to be that man, that very same man that conned so many of you flower buds. Something went wrong though. I tried and I tried and didn’t succeed. Yes, indeed. This is a confession. Well, kind of. I tried to set up my own cult, but no one really warmed up to it, except for a couple of penniless lunatics that were real hard to get rid of. As a matter of fact, the judge said I couldn’t get a restraining order since it was I who lured them towards me in the first place. Yup, Bob, a two hundred pound Iraq veteran, and his wife Berta are living on the porch of this shack I’ve rented in Connecticut. Bob and Berta totally redefine the whole concept of “porch monkeys”. You see, they’re white; actually they’re white trash, and proud, as Bob once told me. So, whenever I hear some old redneck saying that awful word (porch monkey), I instinctively think about Bob and Berta, not about African Americans. Anyway, it’s a derogatory term, just like Sea Monkeys is a derogatory term for my pets, the good old brine shrimp, but that’s another story. I should stick to the apocalypse for now. This whole “end of the world” business could’ve settled me for good. Problem is the whole gig is so absurd that a few times I started laughing at my soon to be adepts, real hysterical fits. I soon tried to regain some kind of composure, I tried my best poker face, but it was too late. They smelled something fishy, plus once I start getting the giggles, it is pretty much over…

Photo ©Maureen Keeney

“Are you really sure about this sacred marshmallow god that is gonna save me and my wife?”

“Fuck yeah… he he he… ha…HA HA… sorry…”

“Ain’t you not supposed to cuss? I mean, wouldn’t this marshmallow god of yours get angry at you?”

“Fuck no, he loves people to swear, gamble, and fuck… that’s the thing. Plus I think I’ve got Tourette’s…”

Now, what if a giant marshmallow god happens to exist, reads this mockery of an article, and decides to go on with the end of the world just to prove I’m an asshole? Pretty egocentric, I know, but let’s just pretend for a minute. Perhaps Bob and Berta would try to intercede for me. I’m sure they’d say loads of prayers for me. I’ll tell you one thing, if the G.M. spares my silly little life, I’ll let those two losers live on my porch forever. Meanwhile, since the 12/21 apocalypse is a giant chance for easy bucks, I better go to Mount whatever in France and start cashing in. Although, they say the mayor of the town where all these freaks have started to gather is one tough cookie. The man said he’s tired of hippies and other burnouts staring at the locals as if they had green antennas on their heads. Last year or so, a Spanish hermit was found frozen to death and it was a bitch to remove the guy’s corpse from up there. So when a guy asked the mayor if he wanted to go 10% on the money he’d make by having people say prayers to the aliens on the mountain by his staff (another web scam), the burly frog dude said, “Enough of this bullshit”. Also I’ve heard rumors that the French Home office is aware there might be chance of a giant mass suicide on the 21st of this month. They’re taking preventive measures. Shit. Maybe I could go half way to the top and start selling stuff “Alien t-shirts, anyone? Razor blades… barbiturates, cyanide… all retail… c’mon… before it’s too late…You won’t have another chance… pop-corn…”

I’d have Bob and Berta do all the hard work, and, with the help of the G.M., I will fly back to NYC a rich man. I’m sure our products would sell more than any of my books on the Mayan prophecy ever did… Perhaps my dad was right, I should’ve gone to law school. By now I’d have a lot of drug dealer chums giving me free samples, prostitutes giving me free rides, and then, once this apocalypse frenzy dies out on the 22nd, I could file a giant class action lawsuit against the Mayans and all the other prophets that have made zillions out of this incredible scam…

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