A few months ago, while I was on a road trip, the world ended. I won’t get into specifics about what went wrong, but it happened quickly, and very few of us survived. I’ve encountered a few camps in the area. The majority of them were fine people. Post-apocalyptic films like to show how twisted people will become in dire situations, but most of us are just trying to find our way through this new world. After feeling like I’ve exhausted the resources, I get into the fastest car I can find, and leave. So I’m driving down the highway, going at least 90 miles per hour, when I hear and see flashing lights behind me. Guy doesn’t know who he’s messing with. I speed up and just try to ignore him. He matches my speed and gets on the intercom, instructing me to pull over. I can’t keep this up. I’ll eventually need to get some gas, so I concede to his demands and check my weapons. Then I step out and point my shotgun towards him. He gets out and protects himself with his car door, shouting at me to put down my weapon. I don’t, of course, so he calls back-up. More police cruisers arrive. What a bunch of dishonorable people, pretending to be law enforcement officers in a time like this. Outnumbered, I give in and disarm myself. The first “cop” stuffs me in the back of his car and drives me into the city where I see tons of other cars driving around; far more than there should be, statistically speaking. All I can think is, “dawut?” After much confusion in the interrogation room, I’m finally able to convey to them that it doesn’t matter how fast I was going, because the world’s ended. They look at me like I’m crazy, and end up showing me a park where children are playing without a care in the world.
Another cop finally figures out where the misunderstanding was coming from. “Oh, no,” he says. “The world hasn’t ended. That’s just what Independence, Missouri looks like.”
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