Video: Sit-down Comedy on the Rapture
Touching Upon What to Wear to It
The Rapture
Cereal aisles confuse me, as do people who say they’ve returned from the dead for “one more try.”
That’s what this guy is saying as he leans against a porcelain sink, divining meaning from the mist rising from my urinal.
He has two plastic eyes sewn onto a face that glows like a new basketball, and I’m waiting for him to punch me in the back of the head.
I’m at the airport, trying to remember where I’m supposed to be.
That all-too-common confusion, like when you discover the owner of Billy’s Grill is named Angelo.
And now this guy.
He’s waiting for a trumpet to sound.
Until then, he’s followed me into my favorite restaurant.
It’s a place called Angelo’s owned by a guy named Billy.
He says, “All the nations on earth are in mourning.”
“I can accept that,” I say, feigning interest while licking a last spoonful of clam chowder. Trust me, my friends, I, too, am aware of that encroaching white light this guy says we come from. How, like a hooker, it never stops whispering into my bad ear.
I, too, am aware of Mr. Death hovering over my bed at three in the morning, bragging about the size of his penis as my old-fashioned mahogany clock cracks its knuckles.
There used to be a ringing in my ears.
Now a hoarse laughter like post-nuclear waves crashing on shore.
Annoyed, I ask him to pass the salt, but he says it’s “out of reach”—no doubt code words for the Great Beyond.
Or at least that’s what my Old Guy’s Manual to Life after Death says, though with so many people being resurrected it’s hard to believe anything anymore.
You can find Peter Johnson’s books, along with interviews with him, appearances, and other information at peterjohnsonauthor.com
His most recent book of prose poems is While the Undertaker Sleeps: Collected and New Prose Poems
His most recent book of fiction is Shot: A Novel in Stories
Find out why he is giving away his new book of prose poem/fragments, even though he has a publisher for it, by downloading the PDF from the below link or going to OLD MAN’S homepage. His “Note to the Reader” and “Introduction” at the beginning of the PDF explains it all: Observations from the Edge of the Abyss+
Thanks, Jeff. I wonder how many readers took it seriously.
Great piece; I laughed a lot. I imagine that if I were ever sent back, I’d land in my late father-in-law’s walk-in closet and have to wear one of his cotton-candy-colored double-knit suits, non-wrinkle shirts, and a tie made of repurposed plastic. I’d also have to attend a Kiwanis Club meeting.
On a more somber note, your Rapture riff reminds me of an Atlantic story I read a few years ago about the migrant crisis. The writer described a trail in the North Mexican desert frequently used by Coyotes guiding groups of desperate people. As he came over the rise, stretched before him as far as he could see were abandoned backpacks, plastic bags, empty water jugs, clothing—a lot of it children’s clothing—worn sneakers and flip-flops covering the valley floor. Did the owners make it to their maker?