Halloween is always a special day over the Monson house.
That's why Mike chose today to tell you about the End of the World.
That's why Mike chose today to tell you about the End of the World.
The End of the World by Mike Monson
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Hal hid in the alley behind the diner where Karla waited tables
every morning. He held a gun. While he waited, he prayed to Jesus and thought
about the Reverend Jimmy Jack Collie.
The Reverend Collie said on the radio the world would end at
midnight tonight. The Reverend Collie studied scripture for years, and he knew
God’s word backwards and forwards. The Reverend Collie, he even knew God’s
intentions—up to the minute.
So, if the Reverend Collie said at midnight tonight all the
righteous folk would be sucked up into heaven, leaving only their empty shoes
behind, then as far as Hal was concerned, it was true. It was gospel.
Most mornings Hal drank coffee at the counter while he watched
Karla and prayed and read his Bible. He adored the beautiful Karla and did not
understand why she liked her heavy-metal-rocker-wannabe boyfriend. The skinny guy
dressed in tight black jeans and t-shirts. He wore big black boots. His face
was pale and he dyed his long hair black, like charcoal.
Hal had taken the anti-schizophrenic-medication Zyprexa for seven
years. But two months ago, when he first heard the Reverend Collie’s
predictions, he stopped cold turkey. He wouldn’t need medication in heaven.
Hal planned to kidnap Karla and her boyfriend, take them to his
trailer out in the country off of Paradise Road, kill him and fuck the shit out of her
until seconds before midnight. Then, quickly, he would repent—just in time for
the apocalypse. The Reverend Collie said there was only one way to get pulled
up into the rapture and go straight to heaven: repent and take Jesus into your
heart. Didn’t matter how horrible you were or what you had done.
Maybe he could even take Karla up there with him, if he got her to
say the right words, got her to accept Jesus Christ as
her personal Lord and Savior before the clock struck twelve.
He had a special outfit all picked out for her—a green silk lacy
teddy and green high-heeled shoes. Classy, just like Karla.
For weeks he had visions of his last night on earth. Of Karla
yelling, “Harder, do it harder! I want it hard, and rough!”
At 2:00 p.m., the boyfriend pulled up in his crummy old Chevy
Impala and tooted his horn. As Karla came bounding out the back door, Hal ran
over from his hiding place and pointed his gun at her chest.
“Get in,” he said, opening the passenger door for her. His plan
was to get in the back seat, point the gun at the boyfriend and make them drive
to his place. The usual ‘kidnap the woman and the man while stealing their car’
move. He’d seen it all before in movies. He knew what to do.
Karla saw the gun first, and stopped for a moment. But, when she
saw that it was Hal who was holding the pistol, she gave him a little annoyed
smirk.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Karla said. She peered
in at the driver. “Wayne, it’s that stupid born-again asshole from the diner.
Look, just look at him. Jesus, Christ,
he’s holding some little gun. What a joke.”
Wayne looked over at Hal and laughed. Karla laughed too. Hal had
never heard her laugh before. It sounded evil, like a devil’s laugh, like a
she-devil. He’d never seen Wayne up close. He was shirtless today and Hal
noticed one of those Satan-worshiper things tattooed on his chest, one of those
pentagrams or whatever. Hal looked at the tattoo and at Wayne’s empty black
eyes and he listened to Wayne laugh at him and he shuddered.
He wondered if he was already in hell, or if maybe the Reverend
had got it wrong by a day or a few hours and he’d been left behind and all the
sinners had taken over earth.
Oh, shit.
He dropped the pistol and started to run. Wayne had somehow gotten
out of the car—super fast—and grabbed him by the back of the
shirt.
“Where the fuck do you
think you’re going, asshole?” Wayne said.
Man, for a skinny guy he was strong.
He picked up Hal like he was nothing. He took him back to the open door where
Karla was waiting, the pistol in her hand. She laughed that horrible evil laugh
again as Wayne punched him three times in the face and shoved him in the back
seat.
Hal felt sick to his stomach as he watched Wayne get behind the
wheel and Karla get in the front next to her man. She turned around and pointed
the pistol at him. She smiled. Big. She’d never smiled at him like that at the
diner.
Wayne pulled away. Karla put the gun down and loosened her long
black hair from her usual tight bun. She shook her head back and forth and Hal
finally saw all that hair hanging down, all the way to her lap. As he stared he
watched the mane rapidly change colors from black to red and back to black
again before turning into thousands of writhing, hissing snakes.
“Let’s take him home Wayne,” Karla said, “we could have us a
little fun, don’t you think?”
“You bet,” Wayne said. “I’m always up for a little fun.”
Karla pointed the gun at Hal. She laughed her evil laugh and her
face became a demon’s face. She said, “Jesus can’t help you now, dickhead.”
Wayne looked back at Hal out of the corner of his eye.
“Dude, you’ve got no idea what you got yourself into,” he said,
laughing. “Karla is a real devil and she likes it rough and she likes it hard.”
