I Address My Cult Members From The Food Court At Harrisburg, PA’s Colonial Park Mall The Day After The End Of The World Did Not Happen As I Predicted It Would

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Well, here we are, Gang…still. Please stop crying, Norm. It’s making the Subway sandwich artists stare. You know the worst part of all this? No, Roger, it’s not that you sold all of your earthly possessions and bought 39,802 cans of Post-Apocalyptic Spam, then immediately buried those cans in an unmarked field just outside of Hershey, Pennsylvania. You really should have marked the field.

The worst part is that I feel like I let each and every one of you down. And, boy oh boy, I am just so super sorry about that. You know what? Here. Here’s twenty dollars, Carl. Go buy some Auntie Anne’s pretzel bites for everyone — on me. What flavor, gang? Garlic? Gross. No, garlic is disgusting. Parmesan is fine, Carl, thanks. Sure, throw the change into the fountain.

This is on me, gang:

I was the one who discovered the secret signal.

I was the one who decoded the secret signal.

I was the only one capable of interpreting the secret signal.

But in my eagerness I…

…okay, okay, Allen. We know you were the one who funded the decoding and…