We Are All Gonna Die: An Apocalypse Tale

1: Beginning: narrator: Lorna

I guess we really all died when the first wave of nausea hit the world.

A lot of us wanted the apocalypse to start out with zombies and graffiti on the walls. Maybe a burning city or a school shooting. Well, the last two we kind of already had, but the rest came a little later.

Anyway, the world's tummy rumbled and all civilization (and not) lurched.

I was in a broom closet at that exact moment. I wasn't even with anyone either. That would've been more Sexy™ and Rebellious™. But, in fact, I was actually in the closet retrieving a broom, which is the last thing you would expect someone to be doing in a broom closet. 

I gotta stop saying broom.

So I was in my school's Built-In Wardrobe For Mops And Cleaning Apparatus because I had spilled an entire thermos of hot coffee all over the front of my AP Government classroom. Dr Alford, the Gov teacher, was a hot piece of ass which made my hands lose the plot and go all clammy and eventually cause a Vesuvius-style coffee eruption.

None of that matters, but I remember grabbing hold of a dingy Swiffer and wondering if it would do the trick before the ground beneath my feet lurched sideways, sending me careening into the wall of the closet. I slammed my cranium on the doorknob somewhere in the fray, but it didn't knock me unconscious. That would've been cool. I did get a massive egg-shaped lump on the back of my head which was cool for like 5 seconds.

When the earth stopped doing its best Michael Flatley impression, everyone IN the world seemed to hold their collective breath for a minute and listen to their own heartbeats.

I crawled out into the corridor and, momentarily, wondered if everyone had died leaving me to be Tom Cruise in a barren wasteland of shitty cheese quesadillas and algebra homework. Fortunately, no, hell wasn't done with the human race yet, and, when the ringing in my ears stopped, I realized that kids all around me were screaming, running around like decapitated fowl, and generally panicking.

I was probably too dazed to panic. Nobody stopped to notice the skinny 12th grade girl sitting cross-legged on the gross floor, still awkwardly clutching a Swiffer.

to be continued.