Never Trust a Mayan

“Who do I have to blame for this?” I think this very thought every few hours. It certainly isn’t me, I’m not to blame; it’s those dastardly Mayans. They gave me a dead line and I’m never one to miss a dead line. No Sir, I’m a stand up kind of a guy.
I started researching this hoax a few years in advance because Fox news scared me into it. All the facts seemed to check out; so I started getting prepared for a Kevin Costner type post-apocolyptic world. As we speak I am the proud owner of several thousand pounds of Spam and dried military food that comes in those olive drab waterproof pouches.
I really started making my power plays just a week before the first of the doomed year. I informed my wife, first thing in the morning, that I’d been cheating on her by calling over my favorite Brazilian escort. I think it went well. Veronica, my wife, picked a fight with the escort and wound up in a strangle hold. It is a well known fact that all Brazilians know Jiu Jitsu; silly Veronica. As the escort and I strode out the door I hollered over my shoulder: “You can keep it all!”
Looking back on it all I suppose that was a bit rude. The day before I had sold the house, and all its contents, at a fraction of its value so I cold purchase a super charged Ferrari. The car of my dreams from my childhood; a gleaming F-40. Only a few get to enjoy horse power on this level!
The following day I drove my new toy to work to surprise my boss. I left it in his parking space with a card and a nice big bow on it. As he entered his office with a child’s grin I smashed several of his teeth clear from his jaw. When the little plastic pieces of his keyboard finally stopped raining from above I smeared some blood from my mouth with my tie and stuck it to his face as I walked out. “I quit.”
So I left work in a hurry; leaving a few ounces of my tread in my wake. At this point I should tell you that I promptly emptied my bank accounts to purchase said Spam. I also bought a few hundred pounds of that real tough gas station beef jerky and one condom. Latex condoms happen to be one of the best ways to transport water acrossed long distances.
So I started to head towards the center of the continent. At high speeds and with reckless abandon I drank my way North West. I left Florida behind in my rear view mirror like so many Brazilian escorts. I left behind or burnt every bridge I had left in my shameless life.
So here I am on Jan 2, 2012. I’m standing motionless in some small nameless town in the middle of Ohio. Currently I stare at the worlds largest rubber band ball and ponder stealing it. The only thing that keeps me from doing so is the fragility of my favorite Ferraris rear spoiler. Damn this town!
I am unshaven and unkempt. I am broke and bewildered. I am my own tragedy. So here I am in middle America. Im parked on the side of the highway without a drip of gas or any way to afford some. It’s just me out here. No wife. No house. No job. No money. Just me and my Ferrari… and of course that pending assault charge my boss is so adamant about. The only thing I can truly smile about is that 4,000 dollar optional trailer hitch that I use to tow my ton and a half of apocalypse proof food behind my Ferrari.
“Yup, life moves pretty fast; and if you don’t stop to look around once in a while it’ll pass you by” Said Ferris. Well I say “Never trust a Mayan.”