An Ending

What hath thee wrought? I'm standing on the shore with nails in my hands, staring out at the ocean. Alien vessels fly by, and I don't know why. Seven minutes to midnight and they're in the backroom arguing about the bathroom, we've got full on doom. God bless you. I'm trying to think of this joke that I heard back before ya'all came down the hall, picked me up by the shoulders and dropped me in the heat. I fall to the sand and whisper "My lord" as the aliens drop from the sky, apparently bored.
The oceans and valleys swallow up. The highways and rivers shrivel up. There's a 109 percent chance of cancer: from your microwave, from your cell phone, from your computer – radiation emissions in bone. Wrap up in a special jacket, throw cards around and practice magic.
She came in doors, from the out door, she waved hello and then goodbye. She sat at the end of the bar and began ordering milk after milk. The stomach concave, the face grave, she never gave a name, but somebody called her Pam.
The trees began to leave last year. There today and gone tomorrow, the trees left the woods hollow. Paper made from plastic, oxygen squelched from elastic. Dryer sheets sold like gold, truffling in the dead forest for signs of mold. The forest left in ashes – let's all raise glasses.
Toilet bowl talk in the middle of Congress. Global warming and rain in acids. The debate goes on for the big win. The one side with finger pointing, with the yelling, and the pouting. The other side just won't admit it, while the dead charred bodies keep on shouting.
Water wars begin in Northern Ireland. Flanks of tanks storm the belly of the island. It's the Queen's last wish to save her goldfish and it's Ireland's last sigh as the heat beats them into a frenzy and they all die.
Paris Hilton is like 96. She lives in a palace in Dubai. They have her ready to make a statement on why war is totally gay. She limps up to the microphone and coughs for a bit. She's 96, so this leads to high heels covered in shit. "People of Earth, I wish you well. I want to signal a change in policy with this golden bell." She rings the bell and P. Diddy drops from the roof. He wants to teach us about Jesus and how he saved the couple 3 months ago. The rope breaks and we watch him go. Down to the ground he yells "Fire!" for some reason. Hilton cries over his body as she succumbs to stroke. The curtain falls down and we all vote. Paris and Diddy win funniest home movie. And for the life of me, it did move me.
Scores of camera men descend on the house on the hill. The Olson Twins have been murdered and we want retribution for sin. Their bodies were found in 500 pieces, Scientologists were brought in to cure them with leaches. L. Ron Hubbard was a hell of magician, his follows believed or, at least, kept on wishing. We all gasp and sigh, but we all know it was Lindsey Lohan with a candlestick in the conservatory. Even celebrities die.
Big plan Martian move to outerspace. There's nine shuttle fueling and they say it'll be the best reality show ever. There's Tim the black guy, and the obnoxious Nebraskan, Heather. 88 more bodies are stuffed in the shuttles and we get to watch them on nine different channels in our own brains. When it pours, it fucking rains. Angela is the lesbian from Tennessee, Donnie loves ping pong, and Cameron can't see. There's a fight between Dederick and Thomas over Chloe and Promise. Just as we're about to get a little closure, airlocks rip out and all four die of exposure. The other eight land on Mars true. The Martians meet me them and decide to turn them into glue. This evokes the great invasion that left us dead. It woulda been smart to send some ambassadors with brains in their head. Blame George for calling Martian King Prince Alxxiniur a homophobe, or blame James for slapping him in his external brain lobe. Either way, we made a bad impression, did we come in peace? It keeps me guessing.
Finally, the Earth is in a nice smoldering package. What's that old thing about needed an old adage? Who gives a shit really. Dinosaurs, asteroids, and dead human gore. When you look back it's really been a bore. Just a survival game to get to Mars and we got there, they closed the bars.
Learning isn't part of human nature. Sure we can count and read, but in the end we never learn from greed. And that's why the CEOs left before you all. We live on Jupiter and it's a ball. We're selling their planet back to them in bits and pieces. My nephews own Titan, and Saturn's been leased by my nieces.When we get a chance, we'll go back to Mars. We just need some fucking stars.