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- “Totally doomed and irrevocably hopeless,” a friend told me the other day as he snorted a line of cocaine off the play field glass of a pinball machine. “I give our species six years tops.”
- A band of young ruffians had gathered, smashing glass bottles, stuffing lit cherry bombs in trash cans and jerking each other off.
- Dark plots have been unfolding on all fronts. We are nothing if not heavily invested in apocalypse, catastrophe, hysteria and all other forms of end-of-the-world voodoo.
- I was awakened abruptly the other night by a discarnate voice speaking in a robotic monotone. “Life on Earth is at the ever-increasing risk of being wiped out by a disaster, such as sudden global warming, nuclear war, a genetically engineered virus or other dangers,” it said. “The human race has no future. Pack your bags at once. It’s time to get off this accursed planet.”
- And now my suitcase is full to overflowing with hand weapons, homemade drug paraphernalia and rolls of quarters should I chance upon a pinball machine in a shadowy honky-tonk on the outskirts of the known universe.
- Vision of Apocalypse | Fiada Fey
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