Star-Spangled Apocalypse

by Harmon Cooper

  “Russia then declared war on Germany, which obviously incited American tensions and led to a pretty heated scene in Washington considering your prez’s cozy relationship with a big burly bear named Putin, who is just about to be reelected. Next up was Israel, who declared war on Egypt, Syria, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Oman, and the Palestinians, which led to New Zealand declaring war on Australia – And really, Arjuna, I have no idea how that shit got started because both those countries are pretty much Christian, which means they shouldn’t be going to war in this century. I mean, come on, that is so the 1900s.”

  Arjuna batted his eyes shut, getting sleepier with each passing moment.

  “And did you hear about North Korea? Those kimchi fuckers detonated a frickin’ hydrogen bomb that caused a huge landslide and earthquake in Pyongyang. Decimated is an understatement. The US doesn’t even need to bomb them!”

  Arjuna yawned.

  “All right, I’ll get to the point: how in the hell of all hells is Austin, Texas, involved in all this?”

  “Meow…?” Arjuna finally obliged.

  “Well I am glad you asked, Arjuna! Okay, here’s what I know as of now,” Tony said as he manipulated the touch screen tablet near him. He showed Arjuna a picture of UT Austin. “Apparently the University of Texas, yes the university not far from here with all the hot ass sorority girls walking in front of our apartment in their yoga pants.” Tony licked his lips and his wiry mustache.

  “Meow…”

  “Anyway.” He cleared his throat and started petting Arjuna again. “Long story short, UT sent a few study abroad students to Russia before World War Three had broken out. After the war started, one of these students went ballistic and created a makeshift explosive device…did I mention he was a chemistry student?”

  Arjuna shook his head.

  “So, this UT student ended up blowing up a dorm in Moscow, which killed another student who was the daughter of a top Russian general and yesterday evening, the general made a direct threat against Austin because of the loss of his one and only daughter, who was named, of course, Natasha. Molotov Cocktease, am I right?”

  Tony scratched behind Arjuna’s ears, provoking more purring.

  “You see, the news media here in the states were so busy covering the budding four-way relationship between Pitt, Jolie, Kanye, and Kim, that they swept the Russian general’s threat under the radar, figuring it was just a petty threat. Anyways, Arjuna, my hypothesis is, and also what I’m sure the news will reveal within the next hour or so, is that the giant attack that downtown Austin just experienced was indeed an attack by the Russians!”

  Arjuna sighed.

  “Touching, isn’t it? Well, I guess you could say the attack we are watching on TV was originally started by a group of Somali pirates who are probably still vacationing in Bali as of right now. I can’t make this shit up. Welcome to the human species, Arjuna!”

  Chapter 3: The Dream Mask

  “Should we go the back way?” Virgil opened the driver side door of his brother’s white Jeep Cherokee.

  “Good idea.” James loaded the boxes of biscotti and the coffee cambro into the back seat. He ran to his 1993 Toyota Corolla and grabbed a jacket, a couple of wrinkled McStarbucks shirts, three cartons of Skydancer cigarettes, a backpack with a liter of shitty whiskey in it, and a small tool kit.

  He slammed his car door shut and took one last look at the piece of shit. Fuck did he hate that car.

  As he walked back over to Virgil’s jeep, he thought about the incredibly stupid choice he was about to make, and hell, after stealing that lady’s ring, the stupid choice he’d already made.

  It was a bad idea, plain and simple, and the likelihood of it being Armageddon was slim.

  But it is something, he reasoned with himself, and besides, fuck my life at the moment. Just see where it goes.

  James paused, grabbed Ol’ Faithful from his back pocket, and took a swig of whiskey.

  “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself as he got in Virgil’s jeep.

  “Buckle up, Armageddon!” Virgil said as he started the vehicle. The jeep squeaked as the younger barista turned the wheel, and gave a loud thunk as he switched it into drive.

  James pulled out his broken cell phone and looked at the screen. “Still no service. You would think AT&T could survive Armageddon…” He took another sip of whiskey and offered the flask to Virgil

  “Later,” he said, watching a man run across the parking lot, his hands flailing.

  “Watch out for that crazy fucker,” James said.

  “All crazy fuckers will be watched for.” Virgil took a left onto a quiet street in Rollingwood, the square mile city next to Zilker Park that Austin elites had created so they didn’t have to pay taxes to the city of Austin.

  “What the hell is going on out here?” James pointed his flask at the empty streets. “Don’t these people know that the city is burning down just a few miles away? You would think Armageddon would inspire some fucking chaos. Do you mind?” He waved his carton of cigarettes at Virgil.

  “Puff away, amigo.”

  James opened a fresh pack of Skydancer cigarettes and lit one up, gazing at the thick smoke materializing from downtown Austin.

  ***

  As the two baristas drove deeper into Virgil’s neighborhood near the University of Texas, they saw more and more people reacting to what the baristas had accepted was indeed Armageddon.

  We’re going to need to weapon up, James thought as he tossed his cigarette out the window.

  All of the disorder in the streets was giving Virgil quite the driving lesson, especially in the category of dodging pedestrians. The anarchy was topped off with a few naked college students sharing a vape pen as they fucked in front of a mailbox.

  “I can’t wait to get out of this city,” he whispered to himself. He’d never liked Austin anyway, and had only moved here because there was an opening that an old buddy told him about. It was easy enough to transfer as a manager at McStarbucks, and it beat tucking his tail between his legs and heading back to Huntsville, where about the only jobs available were at Sam Houston State or one of the five prisons that surround the city.

  Virgil pointed to a red light. “Okay, after the next two stoplights, we’ll be at my street. Hey, here’s a weird question for you. What do you think the odds are of hooking up with a lady during Armageddon?”

  “Ha!” James watched the couple fuck on the street, the lady riding cowboy as she exhaled huge clouds of cotton. “They seem to have it under control. But I’d wager that your chances increase. You’re young, relatively handsome, a fucking bleeding-heart liberal but what else do you expect from a druggie from Austin?”

  Virgil smirked. If he had a pithy reply, he didn’t say anything.

  James shrugged. “For all I know, you might be the man that saves civilization. God forbid, but shit, it’s a possibility.”

  “Hell yes, I’d save civilization.” Virgil pointed to a place about a block away. “There it is.”

  The mustard brown duplex was shoddy at best, dilapidated at worst. The yard needed trimming, and a broken hammock hung from one nail sticking out of an oak tree.

  James noted that there were two bikes chained to a fence near the front door. One was missing a front wheel, the other missing a back wheel, and both were sitting in front of a rusty lawnmower that looked like it hadn’t been used since the end of the last World War.

  Shit, another World War. James shook his head. But America will win, we always do.

  A voice at the back of his skull reminded him that he was now operating under the impression that it was Armageddon.

  James chose to ignore that voice for the time being.

  “We might need those…” James pointed at the two decaying bikes.

  “Nah, we can do better than that. Hey, will you hand me my mask?” Virgil nodded at the glove box. “I have got to scare Tony…just wait. It’ll be hilarious.”

  “Your mask? Is that some sort of joke?”

&nbs
p; “Dude, mask, now.”

  Curiously, James opened the glove box and pulled out a strange mask made of plaster. The mask’s haphazardly cut eyeholes were decorated by two yellow flowers. Shimmery gold rimmed the mask’s nostrils, both nostrils flaring in different directions.

  “What in the actual fuck is this shit?” James tossed the mask into Virgil’s lap.

  “Careful with the goods!” Virgil placed the mask over his face, strapping it on via an elastic strap.

  “A Halloween costume?”

  “I made the mask for a class I had to take at the community college,” Virgil said, his voice partially muffled by the mask. “It’s called a Dream Mask.”

  What in the fuck are these professors teaching people nowadays?

  “That’s really some gay ass shit, Virgil.”

  “Nothing gay about it, and if it were gay, I’d have no problem with its sexual preference. The mask is supposed to represent who I am in my dreams.”

  “Cool, whatever,” James said as he got out of the jeep. “Hey, Mask Boy, look at this.” He pointed at the visible line of fire about six or seven miles away. Sirens blazed, and the sounds of helicopters cut through the impending madness.

  “It’s getting closer…”

  “We’ll hurry and get out of town then, but first, it’s time freak the shit out of Tony.”

  Chapter 4: Shitty Roommate

  Virgil positioned himself like a defensive lineman in front of Tony’s door. It could have been the greatest scare ever except for one small thing – upon breaking the threshold of the door, Virgil’s foot got caught on a small snag in the carpet (presumably caused by Arjuna), and he faceplanted at the entrance to Tony’s room.

  “Arrrrghhhh!” Virgil screamed in pain as he gave himself a rug burn on his knee.

  “What in the actual fuck?” Tony sat up on his bed, surprised and angry as Arjuna dug his claws into his belly upon hearing Virgil’s shout.

  “Meow!”

  “Fuck, Virgil, fuck! Fuck, Arjuna, off! This isn’t goddamn Jackass, you jackass shitty blow hard motherfucker.”

  Arjuna hopped off his belly, jumped over Virgil and sprinted into the living room.

  “Sorry, Tony,” Virgil said, his voice muffled by his flowery dream mask.

  “Austin is on fucking fire and you’re wearing masks trying to scare me!” Tony pulled his covers up to his chest and sat up, his red mustache flaring as Virgil slowly picked himself off the ground.

  “My god, you are an idiot, an idiot! My fucking heart is racing over here. This isn’t good for my health!”

  “Dude, I was just playing.”

  “And who the fuck is he?”

  James stood in Tony’s doorway now, not quite sure if he should laugh or not.

  “He’s my manager, James, and, ahem, as a pseudo-eschatologist I do believe what we are experiencing is in fact Armageddon. Therefore…”

  Tony pointed to his door. “Get the fuck out of here with all that, escha-whatever the hell you just said, you deadhead dumbass.”

  Virgil pulled the mask off his face and glared at Tony coyly. “Happy? And the word is eschatologist, which is someone who studies various interpretations of Armageddon. And although I don’t have a PhD in Armageddon Studies, I do believe that what we are experiencing is in fact the start of Armageddon. So, me and my tall and handsome associate here,” Virgil pointed at James, “are heading to Denver, Colorado to get his son, but first we need some supplies. Hey, do you still have that large container–”

  Tall and handsome? James gave Virgil a funny look. He wasn’t normally described like that.

  “Wait a fucking minute. Did you say you guys were trying to leave the area?” Tony started laughing.

  “Dude, we’re out, what part of ‘we out’ do you not understand?”

  Tony rolled his eyes. “Virgil, and, um, James, I know I am not the first to tell you this, but you two are morons.”

  “Come again?” James said, his fists clenching up.

  “There is a freaking World War going on outside these very windows and your plan is to take some kind of vacation to Denver? What’s happening out there isn’t Armageddon, it was an attack by the Russians because of, well actually it’s a long story, but anyways, the fact of the matter is you two are being completely irrational, and I wouldn’t go with you guys to Denver if my life depended on it!”

  “It was the Russians?” James shook his head as he looked from the fat man to the MS-CNN news anchor. Fuck me, does Virgil’s roommate really believe this fake news bullshit?

  “Yeah, what part of ‘Russians are our enemies’ do you not understand?”

  “Now hold the fuck on, Tony,” James said, his voice rising. “The facts aren’t in yet, and there is no evidence that Russians have done anything wrong, at least since Ronald Reagan was president, and definitely not since Putin took over. He’s a strong leader.”

  Tony looked from James to Virgil, who was shaking his head in a way that said, ‘don’t get him started.’

  “Sorry, Virgil, someone has to say it. Putin is a murdering fucktard who finally got America by the balls. The fact that you don’t believe the Russians did this is evidence of just how badly he’s got his hand up there.” Tony gripped a pretend pair of balls. “Twisting, yanking, pulling. You get my drift. It was the Russians. I’m sure BreitFox has already reported on it and somehow blamed Obama, the Clintons, Pelosi, and hell, Michael Moore, just to make sure they cover their bases. Fuckin’ bullshit.”

  “Let’s just get what we came here for,” Virgil told James. “And, as always, fuck you, Tony. Not that I disagree with your analysis of BreitFox – to be clear, it is in fact state-run media akin to the shit they have in China – but now isn’t the time for debate, now is the time for action! We’re going, no matter what you say, and we need some supplies. Besides my collection of you-know-what…”

  “Oh, that sounds like a great idea, Virgil!” Tony shouted. “Take a box full of drugs and hallucinate your way all the way to the mountains of Colorado. Wow, a proverbial Hunter S. Thompson meets Timothy Leary travel plan, huh? Asshattery and hallucinogens. How could either of you concoct such a stupid plan?”

  “Listen, Mr. Tony, you can fuck off,” James said, stepping in front of Virgil. “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

  “Well what the fuck did you come here for?”

  “For supplies, Tony, like I told you,” Virgil called over James’ shoulder.

  “Fine, whatever, get your fucking supplies. I just want it to be heard right here and right now that I think the two of you – yes, you too mister guy I don’t even know yet whose worldview I find dangerously predictable – you two are complete and utter morons for not only attempting to drive across the country at a time like this and bringing Virgil’s little box of mind horrors. So good luck, I’ll see you two assclowns in Hell.”

  The MS-CNN anchor launched into an update before James could step out of Tony’s room.

  ~~~~BREAKING NEWS STORY. America is under attack! The Russians dropped what appears to be a Syvolichovic missile on downtown Austin, Texas, a little after three PM today. It is estimated so far that nearly 8,000 people have been killed or misplaced because of the attack. The Russian General, Dmitri Ayn Aleksandr, just released a worldwide broadcast stating that another American city will be attacked in the coming days.~~~~

  “No fucking way, turn to BreitFox.” James couldn’t stand MS-CNN, and he knew better than to accept whatever skewed leftie news they were hawking.

  “You want to play that game?” Tony asked as he switched to BreitFox to find a blonde with perky tits reading the hour’s top stories.

  ~~~~News coming in from the terrible attack on downtown Austin, Texas. While Russian General Dimitri Ayn Aleksandr has claimed responsibility for the attack, which has killed an estimated 50,000 people, it is believed that there may be other players behind the attack, with reports coming in that the Clinton Foundation once sent an email to an attorney representing General Aleksan
dr. So, what’s in the email? That’s the question on the minds of many Americans, and further, was it really the Russians? Aren’t we done blaming the Russians by this point? Can’t the mainstream media find another scapegoat? Sure, General Aleksandr has claimed responsibility for orchestrating the attack, but how do we know he isn’t just a mouthpiece for the leftist Antifa DNC? Before we start pointing fingers, maybe we should first honor the victims that lost their lives in the attack today. Now isn’t the time to place blame, now is the time to mourn.~~~~

  That’s right, James thought, now’s the time to mourn.

  “Happy?” Tony asked.

  “No, why would I be happy about this? You heard the man, now’s the time to mourn, besides–” James gulped, not quite sure if he believed what was to come out of his mouth next. He went with it anyway. “But neither news source reported on the truth, the truth, of what has happened. It’s the start of Armageddon. Sure, call it an attack, but it’ll only lead to nuclear holocaust, which is, for all practical purposes, the Apocalypse.”

  “Fuck me sideways you’re doubling down, aren’t you?” Still in his bed with his belly hanging out of his shirt, Tony reached for a half-eaten slice of pizza and started chewing it. “Whatever. Like I said, you two are fucked. Just be back in time to pay rent next month, Virgil, or I’m fucking finding a new roommate. Hell, that’s not a bad idea.” The American-Canadian weighed this idea for a moment. “Yeah, not a bad idea.”

  “Let’s get what we need,” James grunted, leaving Tony to his fake news.

  “Sure thing,” said Virgil. “I’ll text you, Tony.”

  “How? Your phone has been out of service for a week.”

  “I’ll hit you up from another phone. Don’t worry. Or better, do worry. The End Times are coming, buddy, and I hate to leave you here, but you definitely can’t come with us.”

  “Go ahead, leave me here.” Tony took another bite from his cold pizza and laughed. “You’re going to feel like a real dumbass once you realize that all this is some shit you’ve concocted in your drug-addled mind, that your cat is at the animal shelter, and that you no longer have a home in Austin.”