The End

 

It’s the end of the world as we know it- and I feel fine…

 

            The song kept running through Jim’s brain as he scanned his article for errors one more time. It had been on the radio several times in the past week; sound bites played before every talk show from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to Halifax, Nova Scotia and beyond. An odd blend of that song and White Christmas, coming from the office radio, drove Jim to take two concentration pills, just to get those songs out of his mind.

            “End of the world driving you nuts?” Donald drained a cup of water and threw it into Jim’s trashcan. “Or is it just the Crosby deal?”

            Jim saved his work and swiveled around in his chair to face Donald. “It’ll be the end of the world to Penguins fans if Lemieux goes through with it,” Jim yawned as Donald helped himself to the candy dish.

            “So you don’t think it’s gonna happen?”

            “Not really. It hasn’t happened now, why should it?” Jim questioned, taking a Tootsie Roll. Donald shrugged.

            “Well, it is December 21, 2012: Our Final Day, as predicted by the Mayans,” Donald pointed out. “Even Fred Hansburger is letting people know!”

            “Fred Hansburger is a talk show host who’s never taken a Theology and Theological History class in his life. He’s a political analyst; Hans is just as ignorant on the subject of the Mayan calendar as any member of the media present. But how should I know? I’m just- ”

            “Jim our Canadian hockey writer! How’s the article coming? Is Lemieux’s decision to send away Sid Crosby gonna halt the world, eh?” Harry knocked on the side of the cubicle before entering. His bright beam was almost too supercilious for Jim to handle. He turned back to his computer screen, scowled, pretended to look over the article, and turned back, wearing a new façade. 

            “Lemieux is not making a statement on Crosby’s position until after Christmas, Harry. I think it’s the Pittsburgh media causing the Earth’s imminent demise,” Jim replied.

            “No statement! We won’t be here at Christmastime!” Harry proclaimed.

            “We will be,” Jim said. All the while, he fingered the little jewelry box inside of his pocket. “We will be, or else I can’t give Alexa her Christmas Eve gift.”

            “Shame,” Harry said, not really listening. “Can’t you get some sort of statement? What about Crosby? Aren’t you guys buddies? You can get a statement from him, right?”

            “Harry, for the last time, I don’t know Sidney Crosby! I know of Sidney Crosby, I’ve interviewed Sidney Crosby, but I’m not friends with Sidney Crosby!” Jim said before he could stop himself.

            “Well get acquainted with him soon! Before this world ends, please!” Harry demanded.

            “You know how improbable that is, Harry. The world won’t end today. Some say the Mayans never actually finished the calendars. There’s even one source saying when Europeans began drawing up the calendar for the next hundreds of years, they offset the actual year by one hundred years! So now it’s either 2112 or 1912, and either way, the world won’t end today,” Jim huffed.

            “If it’s 1912, I better get Don on that Titanic article! Ships gotta sink!” Harry laughed. “Get in contact with your buddy Crosby. I want some sort of statement in your article!”

            “He’s oblivious even when you’re the smartest of smart asses,” Donald observed as Harry left for his office.

            “Oh yeah. I know Crosby. We’re best pals, seeing as there are only three other people living in Nova Scotia besides us,” Jim grumbled, ignoring Donald.

            “You know Harry’s clueless. It’s not his fault he’s a prick,” Donald said, grabbing another piece of candy from the dish.

            “He hired me because I’m Canadian. How much of bullshit is that?” Jim saved his article one last time and closed the document.

            “But you wouldn’t have met Alexa otherwise,” Donald reminded him.

            “I know. I know,” Jim said. A smile returned to his face. “We’re having dinner tomorrow night.”

            “Really? Where?”

            “The William Penn Omni Hotel. Don, do you think I should pop the question there? Or wait until Christmas Eve?” Jim asked.

            “Wait. It’s more romantic that way,” Donald patted Jim on the shoulder. “I’m going home. It’s quittin’ time!”

            Jim passed his eyes over the computer’s clock and grinned. He logged off and snuck out of the office before Harry, who was on the telephone, could see him.

            “If the world is ending, Harry, why are you still putting out a paper?" He laughed to himself.

 

            That night, Jim sat at his home phone, attempting to reach the number of Superstar Sid Crosby, just to make Harry happy. After hours of frustration, he hung up and sat back in his chair. Useless. If anyone had a chance to get hold of him, the other Pittsburgh paper would have already picked up on the story. He shook his head. Slowly, Jim removed the little box from his pocket and cracked open the lid. A brilliant diamond stared back at him; it cost half a year's paycheck to buy, and he was proud of it. Would he be able to give Alexa this precious gift? The entire world would soon come to an end, and he would be left... where would he be left? No one knew what was to come; suppose nothing happened? The media wrenched into everybody's lives. Because of them, grocery stores were empty. Because of them, people overstocked in blankets. Because of them, churches were full. The world was in frenzy; after work, every man and woman, with child or children, flocked to the shopping malls to buy any last-minute necessities for when Satan devours the world. Jim thought it was ridiculous, however, a part of him said the lie was true. The world couldn't end just because an ancient calendar stopped on that certain day. It was almost laughable. Just as laughable as the millennium "Y2K" incident.

            Jim closed the ring box and left it at his desk. The moon lit his entire apartment as he snapped the door to his room shut. December 22, 2012 would be a busy day. Jim fell asleep wondering how he would explain to Harry that Sid the Kid had no statement. At 11:59 pm that night, The Final Word swept across the world. The paper would never reach press.    

Reviews

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That was a great idea to think of that! I had completely forgotten! Thanks for reminding me. :)

I like the way you wrote this story, they way you had the characters just continue on with their lives as if nothing eventful was going to happen. Most "end of the world" stories are thought to have dramatic events leading up to it but the way everything was so calm made it eerie and ironic.

I also like how you compared it to the Y2K scare because that's exactly what I relate this theory to, as I'm sure many others do. Great job!