THE END IS NIGH

The man holding a sign proclaiming: THE END IS NIGH stands in a puddle with holes in his shoes. A dog cocks its leg up to pee over his frayed trousers as passing youths jeer and spit at him. Then, it starts raining torrentially.

  Trudging home, soaking wet, he trips and falls losing his wallet. Without noticing, he gets up; and a speeding car runs him down throwing him over its bonnet. He limps heavily, bleeding internally, somehow managing to stagger off.

  Fire engines are in his street—his house is burning down! His wife and children are burned alive before the fire brigade can save them.

  ‘We’re deeply sorry for your loss, sir.’ A senior fire officer quietly tells him.
  ‘Oh, well,’ he shrugs. ‘It’s not the end of the world.’