254 | Ho Hum and Ho Hos

December 9, 2012
Sunday, 9:00 p.m.
Letter #254: Ho Hum and Ho Hos


Dear Family,

I can’t believe it’s almost here: the End of the World as We Know It. Apparently, December 21, 2012, will be The End of this book of life, though most good books have epilogues, letting you know that the main character went on to do great things he or she somehow never had the time to accomplish in the prior 11 chapters. But this end of the world shouldn’t have taken you by surprise, since the signs have been quite plain.

For starters, Hostess has gone out of business after being an American brand for decades! No more ridiculously named pastries (Ho Hos, Ding Dongs, Twinkies), and it’s all because we didn’t buy enough of them. Now we have to survive off of the stockpiles of these tasty treats. (No stockpile? Word on the street is that my twin bro has enough for all of us.) And there’s no doubt the Twinkies will be just as fresh seven years from now, right?

Another sign: I wrote the above paragraph while asleep. Look at the raggedy edge and sloppy font. (Wait. The first paragraph too. I didn’t even make any sense.) I woke up, pen in hand, and have resumed writing this next morning. Now I can say I’ve written so many of these guys I can write them in my sleep. This is scary. End-of-the-World stuff.

Another sign that the end of the world is nigh: Elmo has been forced to retire, due to inappropriate sexual conduct with minors. What?!? Elmo has become one of the most-beloved Sesame Street characters of all time, trusted by millions of parents and educators alike. We can only surmise what may have transpired that led to this, and I hope for his sake he gets Michael Jackson’s legal team to represent him; otherwise, our favorite redhead may find himself doing hard time where you get beat up, not tickled.

Another sign I’ve noticed that indicates we’re in the last days: China is fast becoming a superpower. Don’t ask what this has to do with the price of tea in China! It has everything to do with that. Once they become more powerful than us, they can charge whatever they want for their teas, forcing us even deeper into debt, and making the so-called “fiscal cliff” seem like a great way to end it all.

Yesterday, a bunch of guards burst into our 120-man pod yelling that everyone needed to evacuate. I was writing Christmas cards in my cell, so I had time to put on sweatpants and a jacket before my door was unlocked so I could join the organized stampede out of the building into the frigid morning air.

I was hoping this wasn’t the End of the World a couple weeks early, because this evacuation thing seemed like a dumb plan. Why would you take me outside in the elements when I live in the perfect place? My living quarters (more accurately, my living sixteenths) consist of a concrete-and-metal bunker surrounded by a high barbed wire, electrified fence away from major population centers in the middle of the Arizona desert. Bring on the tsunami, the firestorm, the flood, or hurricane. I’m ready!

Thanks, Fire Drill, for freaking the life out of me and for making me think of the Mayans, a people who weren’t smart enough to schedule the Doomsday scenario after Christmas. Somehow, we think they were smart just because they drew a calendar. I’ve seen much prettier calendars, and those included all of December.

You trust the Mayans? They all died because they used their drinking water source as a toilet, which is why I’ll never buy bottled water from Central America. I’m just sayin’.

I’ll see you on December 22, 2012, Twinkie or not. You’ll survive.