Lauren Rabaino

Sean Michetti: Yes. Today Zotax welcomes us.

Today, Feb. 28, 2008, is the day Ron Crandall has promised us, Heaven’s Goats. A spaceship will be streaking across the starry sky, hidden behind a shooting star. There is no better time, he’s assured me, to poison my earthly body, freeing my soul to soar up to the spaceship Whoraxium, which will take us to Zotax.

Why would I desire to wither away in this world of greed and violence when I can be laughing and partying in one of the many nightclubs Zotax has to offer? Just read page 52 in Ron’s newest book, “Zotax and You: Your Soul Can’t Get Herpes,” in which he claims Zotax women to be the most disease-free and non-selective beings that side of the Milky Way. Can South Beach, Miami make the same claim about their women and herpes? Unlikely.

On Zotax, money isn’t an issue. That’s because the soul requires nothing. On Earth I have to stop being productive every four hours to FEED MYSELF. This body “vehicle” is slowing me down; it’s similar to a malfunctioning car because when it no longer benefits you, you poison it and donate it to charity.

Ron tells us, quite frequently, that Earth is preparing to recycle itself. “How else do you explain polar bears disappearing because of global warming?” he asks. “Animals have a sixth sense for danger, and the polar bears are killing their physical bodies so their souls will live on, after the Earth succumbs to its fiery cleansing period.” Ron was a zoology major at Humboldt; he understands animals.

So today is the day we must die, or else our souls will burn during the recycle. Now that my knapsack is packed and my suit is pressed and fitting nicely, I will drink the punch that Ron has ladled me. The Heaven’s Goats, all sixteen of us, will be remembered for our foresight, diligence and willing castrations. We can only hope more will release their souls to join us on Zotax before it is too late. Thank you Ron Crandall for my vodka and arsenic martini, and once we get to Zotax, you can find me in the club, with a soul full of bub.

Lee Barats: No, but how’s next week?

Well hello there, Death. Oh yes, by all means, come in. Would you like something to drink? You sure are more frightening in person. What’s that? Today’s my day to die? Oh golly, Mr. Reaper, I’ve got a pretty busy day today. I’m not sure I can squeeze you in.

First thing this morning, I have a midterm. It’s a biggie. Even though I may have thought I’d rather die than take this test, I actually spent all day yesterday studying for it. I don’t want to feel like I’ve wasted the last day of my life by studying for a test I never got to take. How about lunch?

Wait a sec. Lunch is no good; I have a big job interview. I kinda had to call in a favor from a friend to get this interview. I’m going for a busboy position at Applebee’s. Have you ever eaten there? Well you should, Grim. You’re so bony. You could use a couple of pounds. Well anyway, my friend really stuck his neck out for me on this one, so I don’t want him to feel like a complete fool when my brakes go out, I crash into a stopped car and I fly clear into a telephone pole. Boy would his face be red!

Oh, and tonight I promised I would have dinner with my roommate Rob. I haven’t seen him for three days even though we live in the same house. It’s like he’s been dead or something! You see, I really cherish his friendship and I want to stay up-to-date on his life events. You could see how contracting an accelerated strain of Ebola would really throw a wrench in our relationship.

Maybe after dinner. Hold on, I have to see a movie. It’s been forever since I’ve been to the theater and there are so many good movies out! Plus, Cynthia just gave me her number. I should call her – thanks for reminding me, Death. Maybe a stray bullet could strike me in the temple, killing me instantly, after the movie.

But then again, if the date goes well, I may not be available for the rest of the day. Sorry, but maybe tomorrow, oh bringer of doom.

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