The Day the Sun Slept In

The sun didn't come up, so I decided to stay inside. I figured there was no point going out if there ain't no light to see by. I remembered hearing about something like this back in Sunday school – that God had done something with the sun for some battle or something, but I've always been fuzzy about details. I've never been a good student.

I thought I'd paid the power bill, but the lights went off. I kicked my toe against the coffee table and it hurt like hell. It's a wonder the neighbors didn't call the cops with all my fussing. My damn apartment has thin-ass walls.

With nothing better to do, I tried to play some music on my iPod. I thought some Zeppelin would do nice, or maybe some Sabbath? But that damn thing didn’t work either, and I knew I just charged it. Fucking piece of shit!

After sitting in the dark a while, I got tired of staring out the window. The swirling purple clouds were pretty weird, but after a while they got boring. I pulled out the old hookah and lit up some stems and seeds, all that was left in my baggie after the night before. I coughed on the harsh smoke. It burnt like fire.

Hoping to refresh my stash, I called my buddy Roach, but my cell had no charge. I tossed it out the window because it pissed me off.

The phone broke through the window and stopped in midair among dozens of glass shards. They sat a moment, still, and then began spinning before slowly floating up into a black and purple swirl of sky.

Papers fluttered throughout my apartment. A couple taped-up concert flyers from my old band ripped off the living room wall.

I decided I didn't need any more weed after all; my tongue felt like a stuffed sock.

Shuffling my feet and using my hands to guide me through the dark, I carefully walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and spilled my milk. It pooled on the floor. I felt an odd urge to cry, but it passed.

I pulled out a beer – the only liquid I could find since the sink wouldn't work – but it was one of Bob's damned imported pieces of shit. I tried to twist off the cap and cursed as the serrated edge cut into my hand. I needed to find a bottle opener.

I remembered a flashlight I kept on the fridge. I pulled it down and laughed because it didn't work. Of course that piece of shit would be out of batteries, too.

I put the flashlight back in its place and worked my way over to the little window in the kitchen, unopened beer in hand. The cold condensation felt nice on my bleeding palm.

I looked out and knew something was wrong.

Behind our apartment is a school. Normally, when I wake up around noon the place is swarming with kids. They're out there hollering and going on during their recess, generally pissing me off as I try to sleep.

But the playgrounds were empty.

The school was dark and without students.

I couldn't have known it at the time, but I felt it. I knew deep inside that I'd never see another kid again. And I'm glad.

What's left of this world ain't no place for children.