Mia’s Bakery / 20151101

The end of days was coming in about 2–3 hours. They all got word that missiles from a variety of countries had all been fired indiscriminately at other ones, while simultaneously a computer virus was causing all nuclear facilities to self-destruct. It was a parade of errors that no one saw coming. Tough, sad times.

Harrison Wantin and his wife Juliette were huddled at the Hog’s Tit, a newly-opened barbecue spot in Gowanus, Brooklyn that was all the rage. People from the neighborhood went there to make a plan. Maybe there was a way to survive. A place they could go. They packed themselves into both floors of the Tit and listened as Pedro, the owner, and Martin, the celebrity-writer and resident elite, led a townhall and discussed ideas to get through this. Small groups in the booths traded ideas about the afterlife (maybe?). It was all very quiet and orderly, until someone kick-started classic Alice in Chains on the jukebox. A nineties playlist ensued. People joyfully, zealously screamed the lyrics to Lithium. The barbecue pit heated up, drinks were served, and last-minute hook-ups took place in the bathroom.

As the party rocked, Harrison and Juliette walked outside. It started to rain. Harrison asked his wife what she wanted to do. Should they take 15–25 minutes to call their family members, to tell them they love them one last time? Then they could be with each other for the last hour or so, uninterrupted. What should they do together? Just look at each other? Have sex? Harrison ran through these options aloud as they stood in the rain. Looking at each other. No umbrella.

Could we mentally get into sex, he asked? We could instead play our best game of Jenga ever. Maybe the circumstances would fuel our concentration and we would build the tallest tower we ever did. Or should we cook what’s left in our freezer and have one last meal and get everything cleaned out?

Juliette looked into Harrison’s eyes as raindrops flooded down his head. She kissed him knowing that this would be one of the final kisses she had left before dying. Then she pulled back. She kept her eyes locked into his.

“Let’s break into Mia’s.”

And they did. They raced to Mia’s Bakery nearby, and shattered the display glass. They slashed their hands into cakes and pies, gobbling down cupcakes and cookies and cake pops and even lemon bars. They hated lemon bars. Streaks of icing ran through their hair. They tore apart every item in the store, and got wads of crust under their fingernails. The couple passed out, Juliette’s head on Harrison’s belly, listening to his stomach digest a hunk of pecan pie before everything went white.