“Hmm, yeah, it appears I have gathered enough food to last me the rest of the week so I guess I’m going to go back to my cool-ass treehouse and have sex and eat a fucking coconut or whatever.”

—Humans at some point in history, maybe

I saw a picture of you and it made me feel so sad

And I hate that I just wrote that sentence but for god’s sake at least it was an honest one

Above my desk is a tarot card I mysteriously found in my kitchen a few months ago. It was from an incomplete deck, which I have been told is bad luck. I took the card anyway because I liked the look of it, which is just as good a reason as any other.

On it, an enormous blond-haired angel blows a horn while pale, naked humans rise from their coffins to greet the sound with outstretched arms. They’re so excited, I imagine, because wherever they’re going is probably a whole heck of a lot better than being stuffed inside a god damn coffin.

I look at this card at least once a day and say aloud to absolutely no one at all (no friends): “Hurry the hell up already.”

When is judgement day? I wonder. Is it today?

So I sit here at my desk and wait. I have no wooden box to spring from, not yet, but I will meet the wail of the trumpet just the same. I do not know anything of the process after that, but I will say to the creature in charge of my fate, if it will hear me, “Do what you will, but know this, sir: mostly it was bad, but I really did try my best.”

Once I met a lady from Los Angeles and she told me she wanted to come to my house and meet my cat and sit by a fire in my backyard

I didn’t know why she wanted to do those things, but I told her she could

I figured it would be nice, or whatever

See, she had good taste and was ten feet tall and had a cat and lots of plants

She told me she wanted our cats to be friends

But there was a bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park, and she went to that instead

I didn’t hear from her after that; it must have been a really good bluegrass festival

And so she never got to meet my cat

And so she never got to sit by a fire in my backyard

A week later I was at an Apple Store in Pleasanton feeling like a rusted-out oil drum full of dead gophers and there she was on a god darn iPad advertisement hung up above a row of computers

Man that was so weird

standing there watching them dance i thought that maybe i was sad after all that humans would eventually die

and riding home i was cold and my skeleton ached and i wondered how many times they have heard me screaming and hollering under lonesome oakland tunnels

What you do is you take a staple gun and you pin a bunch of Pop-Tarts to the back of, say, convicted felons or political enemies or whatever and then barricade them inside an abandoned football stadium

Next you release hundreds of half-starved raccoons

Maybe they’re rabid as well

Film it live, put it on pay-per-view or whatever