Chapter 1

It should be clarified as quickly as possible, for those that may not be aware, that
humans are little more than animals. If you happen to be a human and take offence to this
statement, it’s strongly suggested that you get over it. If you happen to be a human and don’t
take offence with this statement, then congratulations! You’re probably wiser than that other
guy, and would do pretty well when doomsday comes.
The apocalypse is a strange thing to think about, and has been fetishized to the point
of absurdity. Somehow there is fun in thinking about the end of days, but it can be
guaranteed that anyone who takes offence to little things will not make it to the end of the
end.
Why would I want to live long enough for the world to be destroyed? What’s the point
in that?
Well Mr. Pessimist there are a couple reasons you’d want to stick around until the
Earth was blown away into a billion little bits. Maybe for bragging rights in some ethereal
plane that you were one of the last humans alive? Maybe there’s a chance, just a small
chance, that the world just maybe won’t be obliterated? You’ll never know if you don’t try, so
stop being offended by little things and you just might survive your doom!
Unfortunately, even though we’ve discussed how bad these people are, you will now
be introduced to one of these negative Nancys.
But I just had a change of heart! I’m not offended anymore! Why are you punishing
me?
Because we wouldn’t want you to fall back into your old habits now would we? Teach
a man to fish and he’ll learn for a day, as they say.
What about me! I didn’t take offence to that statement, why do I have to meet Nancy?
First of all, his name is not Nancy, nor will there be anyone in this story named
Nancy. It’s probably better this way since you’ll probably get confused. Come to think of it,
maybe you wouldn’t do so well in the apocalypse. Since that’s the case, you can benefit
much from meeting this man too.
Chapter 2

Nancy climbed the stairs of the apartment building and was in a constant state of
annoyance at the flow of people trying to go up and down the staircase. Normally Nancy
would have taken the elevator, but to her dismay it was out of order. Of course, normally she
wouldn’t be holding a shotgun while walking up the stairs either. And if any of these people
had seen her with a shotgun walking up the stairs, normally someone would have stopped
her and said “Hey, why are you walking up these stairs with that shotgun?”
To put it briefly, it was not a normal day.
When she finally reached the floor she wanted, Nancy took a breather. It was a long
way up there, and the shotgun did not make it any easier. Luckily for the shotgun, that wasn’t
it’s job. If that was it’s job, Nancy would not have put up with it for very long. She had no
tolerance for people that couldn’t do their jobs, and this sentiment extended to firearms as
well.
Luckily for the shotgun, he hadn’t failed in his job just yet. No, his job was to kill a
certain gentleman on this floor. One could make the argument that it was Nancy’s job to help
him do this, and that would be a marvellous reversal of roles. But that’s silly, because
shotguns are not people and that idea will not be entertained any further.
Hypothetically though, if the shotgun were a person he would have most likely blown
his hypothetical brains out while spending time with Nancy.
She continued into a allway with so many identical doors. Nancy had been here once
two years ago under entirely different circumstances. The world had not been ending, she
did not have a shotgun nor her sobriety.
Nancy cringed at the thought and pushed it to the back of her mind. However, as she
neared the door the thought came running back to the front like an excited theatre actor.
Only this actor didn’t remember his lines, was in the wrong scene, and was in actuality a
janitor who somehow found his way on the stage (Should any janitors be reading this and
take offense to this metaphor, please refer to the first chapter).
When she finally reached the door, she knocked as gently as a mother might have.
She hid the shotgun just under the peephole so as to not scare him when he opens the door.
Much like how one must hide the knife right before one slaughters a lamb, Nancy took the
discrete route. Unlike slaughtering a lamb, however, she does not plan on eating this
gentleman.
It should be clarified now that this is the man that you are meeting. He is a tall, lanky,
long haired salesman working an office job at a company that sells office supplies. If he
doesn’t sound very interesting then that means I did my job in describing how uninteresting
he is. His name is Wesley.
You wait one second, buddy boy. First of all, you said you wouldn’t name a character
Nancy and here we are with a character named Nancy with a shotgun. What gives?
It’s important that you learn to accept that sometimes people lie. If you can’t come to
terms with that, then you have no hope of surviving until you die.
Okay. Well then why did you make the person I have to meet so boring? That’s not
very considerate of you.
Well I can’t help if he’s a boring guy. What do you want me to do?
Talk about someone more interesting.
Well that’s why we started off with Nancy. Now I’d like to return the story now, it’s
making me very uncomfortable talking in the first person.
Chapter 3

When the door opened, Nancy was quick to aim the gun at him.
“Hi.” he said.
“Hi Wesley.” she said.
“What are you doing?” He asked
“I’m going to kill you.” She said
“Why would you do that?.” His eyes quickly glanced down to the shotgun.
Wesley continued “You realize that the world is going to end in…” he looked at his
watch “about an hour?”
“I do.” she said. It was making him uncomfortable how cool her demeanor was and
how little she was speaking. Normally she was always stressed and wouldn’t shut up in the
office. Then again, today was not a normal day.
“You realize that when the meteor hits us and the world explodes that I will most
likely go with it, right?” he asked.
“I do.” she said.
“So then why do you want to kill me if I’m going to die anyway?” he asked.
“Because I want to kill you, and this seems like the perfect opportunity to do that.”
she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that you wanted me dead. To be honest when I
saw you in my little peephole I figured you had come for some last minute fling befo-”
Suddenly Nancy’s face dropped and her cool demeanor melted away like an ice cube
in a bowl of tomato soup making it slightly too watery and taste worse than it would have had
you simply let it cool on it’s own.
Nancy tried to cock the shotgun to intimidate Wesley, but failed in doing this.
Consequently this led to Wesley not being intimidated at all. She swore as she struggled.
Wesley began to feel awkward. He had never had someone try to kill him before, but
he could tell that this was not how it was supposed to go.
“Do you need help with that?” he asked as politely as he could. He figured if he could
get on her good side, she might change her mind.
“No!” she snapped.
“Rats.” He thought to himself.
She continued to struggle. Silly as it may seem to us, Wesley was in a pickle.
Somehow he had to survive this and she was as stubborn as a ox. So, he decided to fight
fire with fire.
Wesley grabbed the shotgun and snatched it from her. Nancy was not only surprised
by this, but she also felt a strange sense of betrayal. She had walked up so many stairs with
that shotgun, and here he is aiding the enemy.
“Hey! Give that back!” she yelled.
“What? No.” He replied while looking over the shotgun. It was a handsome gun, truly.
It was the kind of gun that, if it were a person, would be the kind that you would be excited to
introduce to your friends and family because of his charming attitude and chiseled features.
He would have a quiet yet strong demeanor that would draw respect from any father and
envy from any mother.
But in reality it is simply a shotgun and to think otherwise is ridiculous.
 “Where did you get this?” asked Wesley as he continued to admire the gun.
“It was my neighbor’s.” She said proudly. “He always talked about how powerful and
well-crafted it was. I figured it was the perfect weapon to use. As soon as I heard the news
about the meteor coming for us in forty-eight hours I went over and took it. Luckily he wasn’t
home, or else I’d probably be the one dead.”
“You say that as if you already killed me. You haven’t killed me yet.” Wesley said,
satisfied with himself that he now had the upper-hand.
Nancy grimaced. “Don’t remind me.” She crossed her arms. He shifted his focus from
the gun back to her now. As sassy and vengeful as she might be, one would have to be a
fool to deny that she was a pretty little thing. Her short black hair was well kept, even now in
the wake of Earth’s doom. She was very short too, a head and a half shorter than Wesley.
Had this information been available to you earlier, the image of Nancy holding the gun at a
60 degree angle would have looked downright silly, and was thus omitted in order to avoid
that. It is advised that you do not imagine the scene again in order to not only preserve the
image you had originally, but to also save some imaginative energy as well.
“You never really told me why it is you want to kill me so bad.” Wesley said to her.
“Give me the gun and I’ll tell you everything.” She said while tilting her head.
“Tell me everything and I’ll give you the gun.” He said while pointing the gun.
Nancy sighed. “Fine.”
Wesley beamed. “Excellent! Come on in and tell me all about it.” He said while
stepping inside.
She hesitated and said “I’m not going in there again. You probably still haven’t
cleaned it since last time.”