An Unexpected Customer SamTheSnowman

Bill sat behind the counter in a state of shock and disbelief with a blank expression across his face.

Why he had decided to come to work, he had no idea. He assumed that it was merely routine that had caused him to pry himself away from his TV. Half of the channels were playing reruns while the rest — most notably the news stations — displayed an off-the-air screen along with a loud, piercing beep. From the moment he'd heard the announcement, to this very moment, he'd held that same blank expression.

How was one supposed to act when nuclear war had broken out and the end of the world was hours away?

Oddly enough, most stores weren't being looted. There was no need for the products inside them.

Humanity had devolved to suicides and homicides, sex, and eery calmness. The streets of D.C. were empty outside of downtown.

At approximately one a.m. the President had announced to the nation and the world that attempts to avoid nuclear war had failed. He had made a short speech during which he had informed the citizens of the US that they had launched their own missiles to counter the countless others that were careening toward their country; the demise of humanity would happen before morning. Then he apologized to the nation, said a short prayer, and promptly walked away from the podium.

Bill had made the subconscious decision to spend his last few hours behind the counter of the Gas-n-Go that he'd worked at for the past five years. He'd grabbed several beers from the refrigerators and was treating himself to a beer tasting. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, but his appetite was gone.

Then the bell rang as the front entrance opened.

Bill shook himself out of his near-drunken daze, and looked at the customer.

"Odd time to be at a convenient store. How can I help you, sir?"

The man who had entered looked defeated. The hair that he did have had gone white. His skin, while dark, looked as if he had spent the past several months indoors. He wore wrinkled, dark-grey pants, a whitish-blue shirt, and a loosened tie that bore a pin of the US flag; it mocked him. He had sunken eyes that looked bruised from a lack of sleep, and he walked with a slouch.

The man was none other than President Barack Obama.

Bill stood in shock, "Mr. President... I'm not sure what to say."

"If you're anything like the rest of the country, then you probably want to blame me for what is coming. And you know what, you'd be right to do so," said the President. Bill sat in silence for a moment while the President stood still. Finally he replied.

"No, sir, I really don't have an opinion. But I am wondering why the leader of the free word has come to my store with only hours of existence remaining. I figured you'd be with your family in a bunker."

"Well... my family is in a bunker along with most of my staff, but I'm ready for all of this to end. If I were to survive, then I'd never be able to show my face to the survivors. I've said my good-byes, and my security team didn't put up much of a fight when I stated my intentions." The President had given up, and Bill couldn't blame him. He had held the most stressful job in the world during the most stressful time the world had ever faced.

"I guess there's only one thing to say then, Mr. President. What would you like?"

President Obama sauntered to the fridges and picked up two six-packs of Budweiser. Then he walked to the counter asking for a pack of Marlboros.

"You know those are bad for you?" said Bill sarcastically. The President smirked and picked up a bag of Doritos that was sitting in front of him. Bill had made the President smile; for a moment he felt satisfied with his disappointing life.

"No one ever let me eat these in the White House..." he told Bill referring to the Doritos he was holding before tailing off, "How much do I owe you?" Even facing death, the President refused to steal anything. That made Bill laugh, which, in turn, made the President laugh. The two cachinnated for a few minutes before Bill responded.

"It's on the house."

"Thank you, Bill," replied Obama, reading the name tag with a smile. He stared at Bill for several seconds. "Would you care to join me outdoors?" "But I've got a store to run," said the cashier as he walked out from behind the counter.

So Bill and Barack walked outdoors and sat down on the concrete with their backs to the window. There was a chill to the air that bothered neither. They drank beer after beer, smoking cigarette after cigarette, eating Dorito after Dorito. Bill shared his life story with the President, and in return the President shared the country's most protected secrets. They laughed and got drunk together until dawn approached.

They could hear the missiles before they saw them. Soft whistles that increased in volume until they became innumerable flashes of light that were emphasized against the dark blue sky, leaving a trail of smoke as they came closer. They looked like a meteor shower that was taking place far too close to the earth's surface.

The whistles became howls became screeches. Sirens were now ironically sounding off as if mankind stood a chance.

The rockets were now leaving an arch as they descended. The hours had shrunk to minutes.

The President and Bill had stopped talking and were staring at the bright arrows nearing their destination.

"You know," said Obama, "for something that is going to kill us, those are brilliantly beautiful."

Bill just nodded as the projectiles met land, and civilization came to an end.

Submitted October 03, 2014 at 03:51AM by SamTheSnowman http://ift.tt/1rQM62s SamTheSnowman