Shannon over at The Warrior Muse is co-hosting the Choose Your Own Apocalypse blogfest with Chuck over at Apocalypse Now. The premise is simple: there are many who believe that in accordance with the Mayan calendar, life as we know it will end on 12/21/2012. What they can't agree on is how. So, Shannon thought a party was in order and as long as it's the party season, I'm in. The rules are simple:
Choose my apocalypse
Tell about how I prepared for my survival amongst everyone else's demise
Describe my apocalypse and how it goes down
And so, here is my apocalypse situation. You'll have to
Quick. Over here. I'm writing this from the safety of my basement.
There's been an accident. No, an overtaking. Yes, that's right. An overtaking and I don't think there was anything accidental about it.
Up to my eyeballs in cookies this year, like every other year. I've got trees, people, wreaths, and angels. I can't say who started it, or how, but I think the little guys got tired of me nibbling while cooking. I always eat and cook, so I can't really understand why this time was different.
It was the final two dozen cookies. Or maybe the final 21 since I had grabbed, and eaten, 3 on my way from the drying rack in my dining room to the kitchen.
I was reaching into the fridge for the milk. You know- to go with the cookies. I heard the crumbling, crunching sound of footsteps that obviously were not my own. I was securely placed in front of the fridge moving jars, containers, and endless amounts of butter and eggs to find my milk.
The tree cookies had grown to the size of small conifers- right through to my second floor.
The angels wings came to life and lifted them right off the drying rack.
The wreaths hurled themselves toward me, and I thought for sure one would end up strategically placed right around my body, and not in the fun hula hoop way.
But, the worst was was the cookie people. Walking. No, marching in a straight tight line right toward me.
How did I take care of myself when I was sure imminent demise was on its way to myself and my neighbors?
Yes. I headed to the basement, locked the door, and found a steady supply of milk. You know, for the cookies. Wouldn't want Santa to be thirsty and all that. Anyway, it turns out the sugary sweet little guys, or trees or things, don't like milk. Balances out the sugar too much.
So, for now, I'm safe. In my basement with my milk.
Wish me luck! If the world ends, and anyone asks; Yes. I got milk. And NO, never trust a cookie!
|They do look tasty though, don't they????|