Judgment Day

I know it might not sound like much, but I just found something truly wonderful resting on my doorstep. You probably can’t resist the urge to guess what it is. Most people have a similar sickness, the inability to go into anything fresh. Movies, Mallomars, whatever. But it was not a box of rambunctious kittens, praying for leche. Nor was it a latter-day Moses, one of those fresh doormat basket babies, waiting for someone to school them in the ways of sea-parting and hair-parting. Sand storms ain’t good for combovers, and many an old world acolyte can tell you that. It was not a giant check with lots of zeroes and tricky ol’ cursive. It was a letter from God. Yes, that God. Not J. God Johnson working the graveyard shift at an all-night Dunkin’ on Northern Boulevard. This isn't the other guy, this is the big guy. 

Yet his cursive is not nearly as good as the nice folks at Publishers Clearing House. But he tries.  Any who, he’s invited me to help judge the AICP (The Apocalypse of Independent Commercial Prophets). And oh boy, I am so humbled by the unusual, though not totally unexpected request. You see, he’s made overtures before, saying things like, “when the time comes, I hope you own a gavel.” I actually do own a gavel. It was my grandfather’s. The opportunity to sitteth at his right hand, wow, just wow. I'm almost speechless. The only issue I see going forward is after the end of the world, there aren’t going to be as many job openings with everyone going one of two directions. I’ll figure it out. Lemons, lemonade, you get the idea.

 

As surprising as it sounds, even omnipotent beings need help sometimes. Why do you think Kringle employs elves? Even if one can do everything alone, why would they? It’s more fun to share an experience with good friends. 

 

Don’t forget to send in your entries ASAP. If you have a particularly hard case, it’s important I see it now, ya know, before it stars raining hellfire. Emails are better, given the flammability of paper. The easy thing for me is that there isn’t any middle ground award-wise. Good, evil, next, and that's about it. So I won’t be parsing commandments and handing out complex sentences. This is simple, binary stuff here. Very basic. 

 

My official title is Queens County regional judge, casting aspersions on humanity as people wait for the final judgment. One last thing before I go to this seemingly eternal orientation session. I don’t want to give away the deadline since it should be a surprise. I think it’s better than way. You won’t miss it. It’ll be a real revelation. 

Trust me.