Now I don't want to hear any lamenting from you lot about the Rapture. I first warned you about this on December 22, when I predicted that a plethora of dancing, singing people in penguin costumes is a sign of the coming Apocalypse. Your next warning was on Groundhog Day, when Dr. Phil saw his shadow and I told you about the electric catfish that live in the Nile River.
See? See? I TOLD you people then that the end of days was nigh and to plan accordingly. And did you plan accordingly? No, of course you didn't, because there was a free shipping code from American Girl back then and you were too busy stocking up on plastic crap that you didn't need. Impatient fools. If you'd listened to me, you'd have waited until tomorrow, when you can score all the plastic crap from AG that you want during the post-Rapture looting.
Yeah, too late now, chumps. Tomorrow is May 21 and it's the latest End of Days. For real.
I've got plans. First off, we've got several crates of dry ice that we're going to place in pairs of doll shoes that we leave in the middle of your rooms, and then we're going to hide your dolls so you think they've been Raptured.
(Actually, I'm not sure dolls can be Raptured; the Reverend Harold Camping's website wasn't exactly forthcoming about this. But if we can be Raptured, I'm for sure smuggling along some of those little alcohol miniatures in my backpack. If I leave out the Belize tour guide I should be able to fit in at least half a dozen little bottles of booze. I don't think I'll be needing that Belize tour guide at the Rapture. I've got better places to go).
Anyway, after we freak out all the doll owners, Jiggy goes into action. See, Jiggy looks enough like Jesus that he's going to wake up early tomorrow, don a robe and sandals, and go knocking on random doors crying out "Rise and shine! Shake a leg." Once he's put the fear of God into people, the Entourage sneaks in through the back door and steals all their electronics, jewelry, and sex toys.
Well, maybe not the sex toys; I don't think there's much of a market for used sex toys.
Then we head to the post-Rapture after-parties. What happens post-Armageddon stays post-Armageddon, so no pix.
The next morning, after this bullshit blows over and everyone has a good laugh (except for those people when they figure out that their sex toys are missing), I get back to work. I've completed my first children's book.
Unfortunately there was a content leak and plagiarism and legal issues involving authorship, and what-all, so I've got to put a call into Cousin Antonin. I'm confident he'll still be around after the Rapture.
See you on the other side, people
