In The Lurch

A door opened, and Joby stepped out.

Strangely unaffected by the surroundings, he started off rather tangentially in a direction, with unsteady step. There was no grass. Parched shitbits of earth with yawning cracks refused to sprout life. The land was irrigated by the blood from the hills. Two men tumbled down the hill, each animatedly trying to slash at the other with black claws. In the east the fires raged.

Joby walked in a trance. The waves of blood lapped at his feet. He passed by some vultures feeding at a mound of the vanquished. Sailing onward he reached the city. Excited mediapersons screamed into cameras bewailed the loss of something. Bulidings crashed down and dust filled the air. Hippies grabbed at women and dragged a few into dark alleys. Monks were shot point-blank. Emos stuck needles in everyone who stopped to dodge a falling meteor. Rabid mongrels barked the beginning of Apocalypse.

Then the army moved in and started killing everybody. Rebels ate sandwiches and threw shrapnel about. Doctors impregnated patients and nurses nursed the young and wounded. Diabolical maniacal laughter accompanied the thunderclaps.

Joby saw all this, and meekly kept going. Nobody noticed him. Not even the lunatics.

Presently, Joby met his mother on the edge of the cliff. They embraced, and jumped.

When they hit the cold water, the resurrected Albatross airlifted them to the other side.

Joby stood hesitating, and stepped back respectfully to allow his mother pass.
His mother shook her head and kissed her son.

Joby ascended the steps, and turned the knob.

And everything was right with the world again.