The Last Day

George was always an odd child. He wasn't diagnosed with anything, because mentally, the doctors never found anything wrong with him. He just had a different way of thinking, they had said. A way of thinking that the doctors couldn't understand.

      Overall, the doctors said he was a very healthy child- even if they couldn't find out what was wrong with his mind. Results from the CT scan even showed everything with his mind was sound and working properly.

    He was physically healthy, even if his complexion was a little unusually pale.

     Often he stared at things, looking into all of space. Instead of playing video games, he spaced out at the wall.

 Odd you say? Isn't everyone odd in their own way?

George had been to therapy, but the therapists couldn't hold his attention. He always said odd things- like- "this is the last time I'll have therapy on July 20, 2034."

He was correct, though. Everything ends at some time. For example, this is the last time you'll be reading this in 5 seconds. Then you'll read it again possibly, but that will be the last time you'll be reading it at that time.

Notice how I said time. Time tends to keep going, and each second that it's present time, it turns into your past.

Scary huh?

Continuing with the story, Yes, George was an odd child.

His mother Rebecca was used to hearing George babble about "this is the last time," and "this is the last day."

After all, she had coped with it for about 6. 5 years.

 George was seven.

Rebecca never told George who his father was. The stupid guy was a creep anyway, and she was too young to know any better.  The guy had died the exact time and day George was born- but Rebecca tried to ignore that.

She leaned on Roderick, her *she quotes* "better, hotter, conservative" husband.

 "It's the last dinner we're having on July 25, 2034." George whispered at the table.

"Right on, George." Roderick tried to encourage George and keep him happy.

"Eat your food, Hun." Rebecca said.

George didn't answer; he just did as he was told.

"It's the last day humans will exist on July 25, 2034."

"Then what about tomorrow?" Rebecca asked. "Will we exist then?"

"Of course. It's just the last time we'll exist today."

"How do you know this, George?"

"I just...know."

"Alright baby, go to bed."

Again, George did not answer. He just left to get ready for bed and sleep.

"I'm getting worried... It's more 'the humans will exist' stuff than it was a year ago... Why humans? Why can't he go back to 'this is the last time I'll play stuffed animals in this room on Yadayadayada.'?" Rebecca complained.

"He's growing up-as kids grow up, they change. Don't get worried." Roderick coaxed.

"I guess you're right... But it's nasty how his dad... Died...on the same day- you know what I mean."

Roderick nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by an immediate message on the TV.

The TV turned itself on, and a high pitched noise filled the room. It stopped when the screen's picture developed. A Reporter told an urgent message. "Type B blood is now in danger-as soon as possible, travel to your nearby pharmacy and take a vaccine if you have Type B."