You can see him standing on his street corner in sunshine and in rain, waving his sign to warn his neighbors of the coming end. He has a few different signs with varying copy. He picks which one to wave each day according to how he's feeling that particular morning. If he's feeling particularly generous, he'll go with 'Repent For The End Is Nigh.' If he's in a funk and he really doesn't have much hope for the capacity of the human soul, he'll go with 'The End Is Nigh. Justice Is Come For The Sinner.' And then he's got, 'The End Is Nigh: Haha!' for when he's really pissed.
Most people give him a wide berth, thinking he's just a loon off his meds. But you can see something deeper there. There's his dedication to task for one thing. He certainly works harder at warning the populace of the coming doomsday than your last boyfriend worked on that 'novel' he claimed to be writing. You're pretty sick of guys who are all about 'tomorrow.' I'll change your light bulbs tomorrow. I'll look for a job tomorrow. What if today I have an orgasm and I give one to you tomorrow.
Maybe it's time to get yourself a guy who believes that there isn't going to be a tomorrow.
'The end of the world is nigh!' he'll be shouting when you spot him outside your office today. 'Repent! The end of the world is nigh.'
Sounds like he's in a good mood. Approach him.
'The end of the world is nigh,' he'll say. Then he'll spot you smiling at him. He'll look into your eyes and he'll say just to you, 'The end of the world is nigh.'
Say, 'Then let's make the most of it.'
'Now that's what I call a prophecy,' he'll say. Then he'll toss his sign in the trash, grab you by the hand, and pull you into a tango. You'll dance on the sidewalk and into the oncoming traffic, your feet barely touching the ground as your sage flings you this way and that, sending you twisting towards the gathering crowd only to yank you right back to cuddle up against his many filthy overcoats. When he gets thirsty from the activity, he'll drag you into a liquor store and he'll hold a hunting knife to the counterperson's neck while you take your time picking out several bottles of the finest champagne. Night will be falling and off you'll both go into the dark and dangerous city, running and screaming and drinking from the bottle as you dance in and out of velvet adorned clubs and the most romantic of private lounges. The next dozen hours will be a blur of laughing, kissing, dancing and champagne. Not a single moment will pass wherein you don't feel your prophet's hand in yours. It will be clear he's been waiting for someone like you for as long as you've been waiting for someone like him.
At sunrise, when you're laying in the middle of a rooftop garden you broke into, staring off at the cityscape with your head in your prophet's lap, you'll ask, 'Is the end really nigh?'
'I sure hope so,' he'll say. 'If the world ends tonight I'll die the happiest man on the face of the planet.'
You'll kiss your prophet and he'll wrap his arms around you tight, and you will be overcome with such bliss that when the storm of hellfire rises up and incinerates the world, the world will react with a loud and unanimous shriek of terror and pain, but the two of you won't be able to add anything to the chorus beyond a single soft and contented sigh.
Happy Fall In Love With A Prophet Of Doom Day!
