Oct. 27, 2002 * 10:34 a.m.

The basement was similar to the one in my mother’s house - about the same size, but no bathroom. Instead, the bathroom was just a toilet on a long, raised platform near the back of the room. It was dark, like twilight or an overcast sky. I strained my eyes to see where the toilet paper was, and I finally found it on a pile of random items next to the toilet. It had frost on it, like a package of meat from a freezer that badly needs defrosting. After using it, I placed it on a sweater and covered it over with another so the next person wouldn’t have frosty toilet paper. I only vaguely thought about the fact that I wasn’t really very cold, until I examined the shape in front of me. It was like a fridge, but it was actually a wardrobe, one of those white vinyl jobs that you buy at Wal-Mart with a zipper up the front. (Actually, I have one in my own basement.) As I opened it (which wasn’t hard, since the left side didn’t seem to be connected at the seam), I saw that this was the problem. All the clothes (and food?) were frosted, like the toilet paper. I thought something should be done about it, and looked for the temperature control inside the wardrobe.

I heard an electric buzzing, and when I turned around, the toilet was gone. I mean, completely gone. I couldn’t understand it. It was like the movie I saw yesterday (“Annie Oakley, with Barbara Stanwyck). Sitting Bull was staying in a hotel room with a murphy bed, and when he got off the bed, it sprung back up into the wall, unbeknownst to him. When he finally turned back around, he was incredulous. It was as if the bed had disappeared. He intensely examined the spot where it had been (as every set of disbelieving eyes has ever done, as if it would reappear or a clue would be evident). He even looked under the carpet, which made me laugh. This was exactly how I felt. I even exclaimed out loud, despite the fact that not a soul was around. Like Sitting Bull, I examined the ground where the toilet had been. I even looked under and behind the small bits of furniture nearby. (Was someone laughing at me now?) I kept thinking how I would explain this to people, and how there must be some explanation. But I knew that there wasn’t one that would make sense to me or anybody else. After a few moments, my “clue” appeared. The air where the toilet had been crackled with electricity, like a miniature blue bolt of horizontal lightning about three feet off the ground. It only lasted a moment or two. As I stared in wonder, I realized what must have happened. The toilet had disappeared through some wormhole, into another dimension (much like Lyra and Will in “The Subtle Knife,” which I am reading now). Or perhaps it was some advanced race doing experiments.

Before I had time to think of more explanations, I heard a faint noise from outside, like a plane flying overhead, and as I rushed to the window the sky became dark. It wasn’t a natural darkening, but a shadow that blanketed the yard, the houses, and the sky itself. Because I was in the basement, I couldn’t see very directly above. The shadow crept across my field of vision, at about the speed a plane flying too close to the ground would. No, actually, much slower. But this was much, much too large a shadow, even for a jumbo jet. My heart began to pound. In the few seconds in which this took place, my mind raced to imagine what might be moving above, just out of sight. It was also curious that the noise wasn’t louder, what with it so close. With the disappearing toilet, it had to be an alien ship. Because I couldn’t believe that completely, I still thought of it as a plane. Whatever it was, it was much too close to the ground, and I was afraid that it would come crashing on top of the house or close enough to blow the house to bits. Suddenly I caught a glimpse of the aircraft, as it took a nose dive, almost in slow motion, but in the opposite direction from which it came. It was a space shuttle, or something exactly like one, all white with pointy little rockets attached to the sides.

I watched as it disappeared from my sight, and the ground shook ever so slightly. I wondered that it wasn’t more like an earthquake. The sky became a bright white, and the flash radiated into every window, lighting up the basement like the sun. I realized that this was a nuclear explosion, and that in no time at all, the planet as we knew it would be coming to an end. I had only a few moments to live at most, and I lamented the fact that I would be dying alone. There wasn’t time to call the people I love. There wasn’t time to take any preventative action or be proactive. There was only time to wait. Wait for my life to end. Wait for the world to end. The moment seemed stretched out, and my racing mind struggled to slow down and make peace with the end. Powerless. Mortal. Alone.


Nothing - my lease for my truck expired. It's gone. :(
Rubbed my feet last night.

yesterday ><((((º> tomorrow