Day Two.2


With another beer in my hand, this time a fresh glass bottle, I strolled along the sidewalk past the many boutiques.  Maybe later, when or if I figure out what’s going on I’ll have time to go in.  I stop dead in front of the hardware store.  Taking a gulp from the beer I enter, and begin surveying the store.  Nails of all sizes, shovels, picks, hammers, hoses, grills, cables, and tons of other things that I couldn’t identify are lining the walls.  It seems too early to begin stockpiling; who knows what is going on?  Whatever it was, it could have been a false alarm.  Christ, I’m too nonchalant.  I should be more terrified. 

The truth of the situation is that I’m appallingly bad at fixing electronics.  That’s not my path to salvation.  Without the chance of contacting someone myself I have to rely on satellites, planes, or I have to go find people.  If it’s a nuclear explosion I’m a goner already.  If it’s a disease, I either already have it, can’t avoid it, or I am isolated from it.  I can’t think of what I need to prepare.  Everything is readily supplied for me, except a car.  I can’t go anywhere without a car.  Perhaps I’ll just keep walking. 

Before I exit the store I notice cans of spray paint on sale for $4.99.  Sounds fair.  Some of them are glow-in-the-dark, too.  I begin stuffing the cans into my backpack until it is bursting and I am carrying extra cans under each arm.  I try to get Cleaver to carry one but he only lets it drop to the ground.

On the front window of the hardware store I begin to spray in big navy letters:






Cleaver and I continue walking, moving away from home and away from Main Street.


The End

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