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Monday, May 23, 2011

NO RAPTURE. Now I Have Post-No Rapture Depression

Me waiting in my front yard for the Rapture.
I was all set on Saturday, May 21st for the Rapture. I had everything in place. I waited and waited and NO RAPTURE. Now I have Post-No Rapture Depression. Help me. 

Preparing for a Rapture is no easy thing. I had to make sure all of my affairs were in order. I mowed the lawn, so that I wouldn't get lost in the 8" tall dandelions. Plus, I wanted to make a good first impression on whoever was coming to get me.

I had my final meal early - two fat, smoked Slovenian sausages on buns. Traditionally, we only have Slovenian sausages on special occasions, and a Rapture definitely qualified as a special occasion.

I had even made plans once the world had ended. I was going to meet a friend at Dairy Queen to celebrate the demise of our planet. I figured it was a good way to kill time, assuming there would be a big line at customs, waiting to get into Heaven - and I hate lines. A Snickers Blizzard seemed like the way to go, once I got there.

Several days before the Rapture was supposed to occur, I sold all my worldly possessions and collected $1,700. On Friday, I spent the money on cigarettes, gas and lottery tickets. I got two packs of smokes, two gallons of gas and 1,600 lottery tickets and had $3 left over. None of the lottery tickets hit Friday night, so that sucked. With the Rapture pending, I wouldn't have had a use for the cash anyway.

According to the book of Revelations, the angels coming to sweep you away during the Rapture would be looking for "those clothed in white." For eons, Mormons have always worn white cotton or linen undergarments, day and night, because they wanted to be prepared in the event of a SUDDEN Rapture, which could cause a rupture, if you weren't properly dressed.

To keep in accordance with the "clothed in white" concept, I rented a Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man suit from the local party and costume shop. Head-to-toe white should make me stand out. And speaking of standing out, I stood out in my front yard, waiting for the Rapture.

Then, I got a text message from a friend that said, "The Rapture is 6 pm PACIFIC TIME, not EASTERN." Damn. Now I had three hours to kill, and that marshmallow suite took two hours to put on, so I wasn't about to slip into something more comfortable. Where do you go dressed up as a marshmallow?

I decided to go to Dairy Queen BEFORE the Rapture, because this was really pissing me off about the time zone mix-up. What was going on? Was this going to be televised? "LIVE FROM HOLLYWOOD - THE RAPTURE & DANCING WITH THE STARS" - it seemed unlikely, but I had to wait it out.

All the waiting around created a big problem. I had to pee. And the marshmallow suit, like most cartoon characters, had no accommodations for genitalia. When the Rapture finally went down, I'd be white on top and yellow on the bottom. I figured the angels wouldn't get too picky.

Then, my mind started racing and I thought, "What if they take us past the sun? I'll fuckin' melt? Then, I'll be a burnt up marshmallow in Heaven. That can't look good standing next to all those sparkling white Mormons. I took a double dose of my anxiety medicine - which are just a controlled substance that is really a muscle relaxer. I voided my bowels.

At three minutes to 9 pm ET, I called my best friend from high school and said, "Thanks for being there for me all these years. I guess we'll be dead or floating into the sky any minute." He thought I was nuts. Some people just don't believe what they see on TV. If I can watch two episodes of Castle, where a writer follows a detective around and helps her solve crimes and not kill myself, then this Rapture thing is even more believable.

My neighbor's kid in her Klan outfit. Asbestos?
I looked at my sundial. It was dark, so I had to pull out my cell phone. Since I hadn't paid the bill, anticipating the Rapture, I spotted my neighbor's daughter in her front yard, waiting for the Rapture in her Ku Klux Klan outfit - which is scary because we live in a black neighborhood. I was thinking that she might not be swept away with the Rapture, and I was hoping that her KKK outfit was made of asbestos. I yelled to her for the time and she said it was 9:05. Maybe the Rapture was having technical difficulties or Obama's media team was running it, so we'd have to wait another 45 minutes.

By 9:30, I gave up on the Rapture. It took me until nearly midnight to get out of that god-awful marshmallow suit. I don't think I'll be getting my deposit back when I return it to the costume shop on Tuesday.

Now, I feel like a kid that gets over-stimulated at Chuck E. Cheese or Disneyland. I was so pumped up, now I want to cry. I'm so depressed. NO RAPTURE. What a waste of time. And I sold all of my stuff, too. Since I'm unemployed, I wish the wold would have ended. Now, I feel like I'm in hell.

I've spent all day popping anti-depressants, those muscle relaxers and drinking coffee. I feel like I need weed - something, anything to get me through this. Maybe I'll go back to Dairy Queen and try to complicate my internal chemistry with a massive sugar high.

I feel worse than when the bird house I made at summer camp took 5th place and there were only four kids in the class.

You just can't count on these religious types. I'm not falling for another one of these fake Raptures until I feel Satan poking me in the ass with a pitchfork saying, "Move along. Make sure to buy plenty of sunscreen at the kiosk on the way down."

NO RAPTURE. Now I have Post-No Rapture Depression. I wish the world would end.

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