"A Momentary Lapse of Reason" Proudly Presents:
Apocalypse Wow! Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The End of the World.
DEDICATIONS/DISCLAIMERS
The following is a piece of fiction. Real-life celebrities, politicos, and an assortment of eclectic persons may pop in between the story but are meant for a pure entertainment purpose (That, and some people would not return phone calls, were rambling incoherently, or had their attorneys hit me with several cease and desist/temporary restraining orders which I am now in the middle of appealing.)
This novel is dedicated to the following people:
To Mom, Dad, Jenny and Devin – I do not know where I stand in the grand scheme of things with you guys any more, but without you this would not be possible.
To Crystal – My muse that is 3000 miles away.
To Sean – Because he is off the funking chain!
To America’s firefighters – Because they do not get enough praise.
To the Royal Canadian Mounted Police – Because they always get their man.
To the Powers That Be – Because if they are not careful, this COULD become a reality.
To Jacques Rougeau – Because he is da Mountie!
And finally, to all the people who I have come across in my life. Some of you made it in here, others didn’t. But those who did should not take offense, it’s only a story.
Enjoy!
Dane Woychuk
Nov. 1/07, 12:09 a.m.
PROLOGUE: IN WHICH WE MEET DEAN, KEVIN AND PENNY, AND WHERE DEAN’S TROUBLES BEGAN
Edmonton, Alberta. February 2001
“Good night, Dan…”
2001 was not a great year for Dean Williams. And it was only going to get worse. Having been forced to drop out of university and lost without his true friend, Kevin Jay Brody, Dean was on the road to mediocrity. He had recently taken a job as a market research interviewer, calling people in the United States of America to ask them what kind of soap they use to get their whites the whitest.
Dean also was having some issues with the ladies as well. Up until this cold February night in the capital city of Alberta, Dean hadn’t been on a date in about year, and last made love to a member of the opposite sex maybe longer than that. Two years, maybe? Three? Who can tell.
“Trust me, you’re gonna love her,” Kevin reassured Dean. “If you cannot appreciate the irony of her name, well, you just never deserve to be with another woman again.”
Dean replied, “Her name is Penny Fields…and she loves the Beatles? How is that ironic? It’s not ironic. It is just a very weird coincidence.”
“Look, we could debate over semantics, or you can just take her out once before I decide to go against my own word and ask her out myself.”
“Wait, remind me why she has been denied a ride on Space Mountain again.”
“Because we disagree on who our favorite Beatle is. Who willfully likes Ringo anyways?!”
So Dean was out with Penny Fields, the Ringo-loving Beatlephile that was not good enough for Kevin, but good enough for him.
Well, better to have an initial Kevin rebuff than a plain and simple Kevin Sloppy Second. Dean thought to himself. It’s been so long, and she seems very smart.
Shoulder-length brown hair, dark green eyes, normal build, the right size of breasts – not too big and not too small. Yes, she seemed like a good fit for Dean.
The date was going smoothly. Dinner at a restaurant. A walk in the River Valley. Away from the bright lights of the downtown core of Edmonton, almost a perfect spot to briefly see the bright winter Alberta sky. It was indeed a clear night. A little nippy outside, but it was not the famous bitter cold Canadian winter that everyone seems to know about.
The night was winding down. The potential couple was on their way back from their walk. As Dean walked Penny up to her apartment, the conversation was about to take a very unusual twist for Dean.
“So, I had a wonderful night”, said Penny.
“I did too”, said Dean with a little nervousness in his voice.
“We’ll have to this again.”
“Definitely. How does this Saturday sound? Kevin has tickets to the Oilers/Leafs game, and I would love for you to join us.”
“I would love to. Goodnight, Dan…”
Goodnight Dan?!
Goodnight Dan?!
Good FUCKING night Dan!
That was all that was going through Dean’s head after the fourth or fifth shot of vodka at the Rose Bowl, a local pub/pizzeria where he and Kevin would go and share their frustrations, their aggravations, and their conquests. Well, usually Kevin’s conquests, but that is neither here nor there at the moment.
Then came another round of vodka shots.
And another.
And another.
Eventually the waitress just gave up and left the bottle at the table.
Dean’s speech was a little slurred when he said “She couldn’t even get my fucking name right, Kevin!”
Kevin looked a little puzzled. “Really,” he said. “I swear to God I mentioned your name like, I dunno, three times maybe.”
“Well, she sure as hell didn’t know there was like an ‘E’ in-between the
‘D’ and the ‘A’, which is so my biggest pet peeve.”
“Yes, yes. I know the whole ‘People who cannot get my name right’ pet peeve story. See? What did we learn here tonight?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Never trust a girl who says her favorite Beatle is Ringo Starr.”
By this time Dean had passed out on the table. One of the waitresses walked by and told Kevin, “You know you have to get him out of here now.”
Just as Kevin was finishing his call for a taxicab on his cell phone, he motioned to the same petite waitress to help him carry Dean off into the lobby as they waited for the cab. While the waitress tried to keep Dean’s head from falling in any which direction it seem to want to go, he could be heard saying in a drunken slur: “She’s gonna regret it. You’ll see.”
Kevin patted him on the shoulder. “Of course she will, champ,” he said reassuringly. “Of course she will. Right now let’s getcha home and tomorrow, we’ll have waffles.”
Waffles sound good. Dean thought as he seemed to no longer possess the energy to talk anymore.
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