What's at the End of "The Road"

I have a thing about the end of the world, namely that I believe in it. Worse still, I’m sure it will happen in my lifetime. According to a life-expectancy quiz I took this week, I should make it to age 77 assuming nothing random happens to me like choking on a marshmallow or being hit by a flaming meteor (which we all know could totally happen).  In any case, simple math dictates I’ve got 37 good years ahead of me. This is plenty time for either A, the Democrats to confiscate all of our guns and force us into same-sex marriages thus leaving us defenseless against a Chinese invasion or B, the Republicans take control and plunge 98% of America into extreme poverty after funding a pork barrel project that results in a zombie army, hence setting the stage for a World War Z.
Truthfully speaking, my beliefs on the earth’s demise are aligned with the events prophesied in the book of Revelations which are totally plausible according to a Discovery Channel special and Kirk Cameron. Nutty, I know, but a guy’s got to believe in something, and besides, what’s the harm? If I’m wrong you all get to come back to this post and tell me, “I told you so” in the comments.

Lest you think I’m about to go on a religious tear, allow me to put your mind at ease. I’m not. Unlike the crazies that manage to end up on FOX and Friends, I actually respect other people’s beliefs because who’s to say I’m 100% right. This reminds me of a joke.


Cinnamon or Powdered Donuts

I roll over and look through the blurry haze of my half-open eyelids. My phone says it’s 7:27. I sigh in dread, not because I have to load up the family and drive the 1,300 plus miles from Texas to Indiana, but because I will be taking my stepdaughters away from their father. 

Ten year-old Allie carefully opens the door and sticks her head in. “How long before we’re gonna leave?” she asks in a whisper.

“Probably in an hour. As soon as I get everything in the van,” I reply from under the covers.

She rolls her eyes in disgust.

Normally I would correct her negative reaction. Not this morning, not after she just spent a week with her dad. A selfish part of me wishes Allie would just suck it up and accept the fact that we don’t live here anymore. We live in Indiana now near my three boys. Why can’t she understand how important it is for the boys to have their father. Except for a few select holidays and short vacations, my sons have had to do without me for close to five years.

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