Our Final days

The comet is careening towards Earth. With only days left, I am lost.

Out of habit, I go to work. No one is there. On the drive home I see people fornicating by the side of the road. I stop at a bar. The parking lot is full. Inside half the people are naked. Half the people are doing drugs. Someone gives me heroin. She teaches me how to inject it. I watch as blood moves like thundering clouds into the syringe. Then, I push down on the plunger and watch it go back into my body. Almost instantaneously, I stop thinking about the end of the world. My eyes close. When they open, a woman is sucking my cock. I rest my hand on the back of her head and close my eyes again. When they open, a man is sucking my cock.

After the sun has set, I wake up. The bar is still full but it is all new people. I find a couple of lines of coke just sitting on a table next to a bottle of Jack Daniels. I do the lines and drink straight from the bottle. Outside the sky is illuminated by what seems to be many small fires. It makes me think of all the people who wronged me. I drive to David’s home with gasoline and a lighter in my trunk. When I get there, I see him standing in the front yard looking up. He’s holding his wife. She’s looking up, too. I get out. I look up. For the first time, the comet isn’t just another star. It’s smaller than the moon but bigger than anything else. It’s a blueish green. It’s kind of beautiful.

David sees me standing there. He walks up to me and apologizes. We hug. I hug his wife. They ask me if I want to have a threesome. I do. We go inside. David and I kiss as his wife takes turns sucking our cocks. David and I argue about who is going to top and who is going to bottom. We decide that neither of us is ready to be that bi. Instead, we both fuck his wife, me in her pussy and him in her ass. We try not to make eye contact as we both cum inside her. I take a shower. When I come out, they are cuddling. I say, “I don’t belong here,” but they ignore me.

It is almost morning and I am exhausted. I don’t want to go home so I stop back by the bar. I do a couple more lines of coke. Then I smoke some meth. I get my cock sucked by a woman and two men. I suck a man’s cock and I eat two woman’s pussies. I fuck one of them on a pool table while she licks another man’s asshole. Then I leave.

Alone in my car, I try to call my sister but the phone isn’t working. I haven’t spoken to my brother in six years. This is the text that I send him. “Fuck you. The way you acted when mom died was bullshit. It was $70,000 split three fucking ways. Why did you have to make a big thing out of it? Why did you have to be so greedy? The money didn’t even matter. It was the idea that you thought the best son should get the most money. Fuck you. I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough for this family. I’m sorry we are both going to die. I thought we’d make up at some point. I don’t know if this text will ever get to you in time. But I love you.”

The sun rises. An elderly Hispanic couple is giving away free tamales. I get five and thank them for their kindness. I eat. They are the most delicious things I have ever tasted. Alone in my car, I cry. I masturbate. I cry some more. I return to the bar. Everyone is asleep. I leave. I walk to nowhere. I fall asleep at a bus stop. Hours later I wake up to someone robbing me. I give him the $37 in my wallet and my watch.

I go to church. The church is filled with people either praying or fucking. The priest is trying to get the fornicators to stop but they keep grabbing at his cock and he has to slap their hands away. I ask him if I can confess. He looks at me and then at the blonde bent over the alter. She is getting rammed by a heavyset Italian-looking guy. The priest looks back at me. He sighs and waves me over to the confessional.

“Dear, father. It has been twenty-seven years since my last confession. I think the thing I am most sorry for is being relieved when my parents died. I loved them but I didn’t like them much. They loved me but they didn’t like me either. I felt like when they were gone it was the first time I could breathe. That is a fucked-up way to feel about the people who raised you. I’ve never admitted it out loud before. Another thing I am sorry for is, I treated most of the women I loved poorly. I have a temper. I am on the controlling side. I react very poorly to having my feelings hurt. I wish I had been better. I didn’t know how. I still don’t. I love my sister but I only talk to her on Thanksgiving and Christmas. I should have been a better brother. Talking to her is awkward. I never know what to say. There’s never much to talk about. I used to shoplift when I was young. I have impure thoughts about pretty much every woman I have ever met. When I leave here, I’m going to a bar to do as many drugs as I can. I’m going to fuck as many people as I can. I’m not sorry about that but I just want to cover it in case God is a prude. Um… what else. I cheated on my first wife. The relationship was nearly over. I had already tried to leave but she made it hard for me to walk away. I know that doesn’t make it right, but it is what it is. I hope God understands. Oh, and I am an atheist. If there is a God, I’m sorry about that, too.”

When I’m finished, I go to the front pue. I kneel next to a redhead straddling a man with gray hair. She is crying into his neck as her hips move in waves on his cock. The priest told me to say five Our Fathers and two Hail Marys. I said seven Our Father’s because I couldn’t remember how the other one went. Before getting up, I turn and look at the gray-haired man. He makes a motion with his hand to his mouth and his tongue in the side of his cheek like he is sucking a cock. I politely wave him off, “No, thank you.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He goes back to fucking the redhead.

I siphon some gas and I drive around for a few hours. I look at the fires. I see a couple in their mid-50s walking their dog past an orgy in the park. The street lights had stopped working and there were accidents in almost every intersection. My phone vibrated. I saw a missed call from my sister. I tried to call her back but it didn’t go through. Apparently, my brother had sent me a text before he got mine. This is what it said: “You were a huge dick when Mom died. You didn’t realize how much time and effort it took to handle everything. I missed work I couldn’t afford to miss. I wanted to be compensated for that. I’m sorry for what that caused between us. I can see how that might seem greedy. I loved them. I really loved them. You couldn’t stand them but I know you loved them, too. It seemed fair at the time. I love you.”

It is almost night, and I head back to the bar. The party has spilled out into the parking lot. No one has their clothes on. I go inside. Shockingly, there are still some drugs left. I do them. I sit on a stool and stare at a blank TV. I drink some whiskey. A woman tries to unzip my fly. I push her off me. She huffs and walks away. I say to no one, “I should have done anything else. Looking back I think I did nothing.” I turn to the girl getting fucked on the bar next to me. I hold up my glass to her. I say, “I guess it all seems like nothing, now.” She ignores me. I go back to staring at the blank TV.

I am not crying, but I want to. I feel it inside me. I have about thirty-seven hours left. Another woman tries to rub my cock through my pants. I let her. She unzips my fly. I stay staring at the TV. I drink my drink. She takes me in her mouth. It feels incredibly warm and kind. It feels like love. I rest my hand on top of her head. She looks up at me. Tears are in her eyes. She goes back to sucking my cock. I begin to cry. I hit the bar with my fist. It startles her, but she doesn’t take her mouth off of me. By the time I cum I’m sobbing. She’s sobbing. When she stops, I look into her water-filled blue eyes with my semen dripping off her face. “Please let me do that for you,” I ask.

She shakes her head, “no.” I watch her as she walks away. She stops in front of another man and drops to her knees. She takes him in her mouth. I finish my drink and throw it against the back of the bar. Then I get up to leave. Outside people are looking up at the comet. It is about half the size of the moon. A naked man with an uncircumcised cock screams in French at the sky as he swings a baseball bat towards the comet. I take my clothes off, too. I leave them there on the ground. I grab some rocks and throw them as hard as I can upwards. People see me and the Frenchman and they join in. We all scream and shout until our voices go hoarse. Everything we throw up comes back down. It rains rocks, bricks, and dirt until our bodies are covered in grime.

I have no more energy left. I collapse onto the cold asphalt of the parking lot. The Frenchman collapses next to me. One by one, everyone falls. We lay there all-night cuddling, crying and sleeping. When I wake up, I look at my phone. I have no signal but there are about eighteen hours left. I try to call my sister, anyway. The call doesn’t go through. I get up. There is a sea of naked people on the ground. The sun is warm and bright. I look up. It hurts my eyes. I can still see the comet.

I get in my car and I drive nowhere. But I end up home. I open the door. My dog greats me. “Fuck!” I forgot all about him. I take him out. I clean up the messes he left me. I look in the freezer. There is some meat that has almost defrosted. I put it in his dog bowl. I fill up his water. I sit on the floor and pet him. He chomps at the raw meat. And that’s when you walk through the door. You’re naked. You have dirt all over your body. “You were at the bar?” I ask.

“The one on Hudson Street,” you answer.

“I was at the one on Richmond.”

We hug. We take a shower but the water is freezing. We dry ourselves off. We get into bed. The dog gets into bed with us. I hold you tight, as tight as I can. “How was your day,” I ask
.
“You know, the usual,” you answer. “Drugs, fucking, setting fires, more drugs and more fucking. I knew this was where I’d end up, though.”

Just then, my phone rings. I answer it. It’s my sister. “I love you,” she says.

“I love you. I wish I had seen you before we died. It’s been so long. It’s been four years, I think.”

“No, it’s been six. When mom died,” she says.

“Fuck,” I answer. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She tells me. “It’s just as much my fault. Good luck. That’s a weird thing to say, but I don’t know what the right sentiment is.”

The phone cuts out before I can answer. I start crying. You hold me and you cry, too. This is where I want to be. I wanted to do everything else I did, but I wanted to end up here. Soon we will all be dead. The whole human race will be gone, and I plan on dying with my lips pressed to yours. I plan on squeezing you against me so tightly that I just might be able to shield you from the Armageddon heading towards us. You are the only person to ever make me feel comfortable. I trust you. I love you. I fucking love you. I am sorry it takes looming death to make me say it as emphatically as you deserve to hear it, but I love you. Hold me close. Nap in my arms. Let your tears fall from your eyes onto me. It will be OK. I don’t know what happens next. But I know we are OK, now.

I wake up and you are sound asleep in my arms. I feel more rested than I can ever remember feeling. I look at the time. Then I look out the window. The comet is so close it obscures the moon. Our dog is snoring. My hand is petting him. I watch as the sky above catches fire and turns red. I squeeze you a little tighter when meteorites come crashing down. You don’t wake up. I kiss your forehead. And, I love you as we are wiped away.