No Rapture Before Pizza
“Duck and Cover!” the call went out.
Bruce had read all about the End Days. He was convinced that Armageddon was in sight. The time had come to collect all he had gathered – including his family.
After all, there was a never-ending war (or three), there was crime on the streets, and his beloved baseball team had lost a dozen games in a row.
There would be no need to step outside again. No need to go back to work at the left-handed belly-button brush plant. His kids didn’t need to learn anything except how to stay strong for the end.
The Credit Card had been maxed out with survival gear. There wasn’t any need for credit cards anymore. After all, in God we trust, he always said, “all others pay cash.”
There hadn’t been a time like this since the Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962. The Cold War had been a shoe-slapping second away from becoming very hot.
This time, Bruce was sure that this would be it.
Just in case things got tense, there were automatic machine guns in every corner of the bunker, one for each child, and one for himself and the wife.
Bruce was proudest, however, of his X10 Global Surveillance System. What a blessing that just before the world ends, X10 had developed a system where Bruce could watch the end of the world from anywhere. He would be the first to know when the Express basket to hell was launched.
Installation was a snap for someone who had engineered a left-handed belly button brush without trouble. The enemy would never detect the wireless source!
The moment of truth had arrived. It wasn’t quite what he expected. There was no sleigh, or tiny reindeer. There were no angels earning wings. There wasn’t even a tank.
Instead it was a tiny compact pulling into the driveway, the driver was carrying a box that looked like a weapon. As the compact approached, the alarms began to ring. The siren, the flashing lights went off as expected. Bruce got his machine gun ready.
“Pizza,” the enemy called out.
The spoils of war must wait. There must be time for pizza.