Thursday, February 13, 2014

Snow and the Apocalypse: Puffed Water Is Refined Death

Imagine this.  You are are in your house.  After a long day of work, you decided  that a warm cup of milk and some cookies is a wonderful way to wrap up everything.  You nibble at your Great Value Chocolate Chip Cookies while watching the newest episode of American Dad.

A news ticker shows up on the bottom of the screen.  "Oh!", you think to yourself.  "Must have been another school shooting or something.  Nothing important."

"Weather Alert In Your County."

You heart skips a beat.

"Significant snowfall accumulations over much of East Tennessee, Southwest Virginia, and extreme southwest North Carolina."

Your heart rate rises.  Your pupils dilate. Adrenalin starts pumping through every tube in your body.

With complete and utter fear, you look down to the coffee table.

That was the last of the milk.

Oh god, what have I done.

Fight or flight starts kicking in.  You scramble to find your car keys, breaking everything in your path.  You're pretty sure you punched your son in your haste; he'll understand.

Before you can comprehend it, you are on the road.  Snowflakes are already falling.  Each one that hits your windshield makes you wince in pain.

"Why have you forsaken me, lord?!", you cry at the top of your lungs.

You make it to your nearest grocery store, and to your amazement, there is literally a million people here.

"What are these fools thinking?  I NEED my milk and bread!" you scream to yourself, and everyone around you.

You make it to the dairy section.  It is completely empty.  Your eyes slowly start watering.

You turn around.  You see an elderly woman with two gallons of skim milk in her cart.

You make a decision. 

She must die.

You lunge at her.  Unfortunately for you, she came prepared.  After two ounces of bear-grade pepper spray, the feeling in your face is a concept you think you'll never experience again.

"YOUR MILK IS MINE, WITCH!" you bellow.

But she isn't done.  You find out what three hundred thousand volts of self defense tastes like, and it tastes nothing like the Great Value Skim Milk you once knew.

Unfortunately for you, your outburst breaks the uneasy peace that everyone held in fear of the "diablo blanco" falling from the sky.  Hell breaks loose.  People are stomping around, emulating the sounds our primate ancestors made during their hunts.  You start getting trampled.

The adrenaline in your blood is being replaced with DMT.  Your thoughts go from pure aggression to a complete calm and a somber realization: You are about to die.

Blood is flying in every direction.  Scream and cries can be heard for miles and miles.  You somberly utter your final words, but they are lost to everyone but you:

"You know... I don't even really care for skim."