Daryl was lazily perched on his sun-lounger, alone in his back garden, with a cooler of beer on his left-hand side, and a table full of snacks on his right. Ordinarily, Daryl would set the lounger to face away from the house, but on this particular Sunday, he had lifted the lounger – revealing a squashed outline of grass where the lounger had remained, unmoved, for some time – and turned to face his backdoor. From here, he had a perfect view of the incoming meteor, soaring silently in space, over his roof, turning the afternoon sky a violent orange. Daryl threw an empty beer can over his head, grabbed another from the cooler, and popped it open with a satisfying pssssch, he then grabbed some crisps from the bag and continued to peacefully watch the impending end of the world.
This was Daryl’s standard Sunday routine – minus the world-destroying meteor – and when the news came this morning – after the report that NASA had identified an object on a collision course with Earth, and it was too late to do anything about it, with impact due in about seven or eight hours – and he saw his neighbours frantically packing their family into cars, with tears streaming down their faces and young children screaming, unable to comprehend what was happening, but recognising that something was horribly wrong. Daryl had no family left though, at least none that he still spoke to, and there was nothing else he could really think to do with his Sunday afternoon, other than what he did every Sunday. For Daryl, if his usual routine was not what he wanted to do, even with his last day on Earth, then he would have changed it long ago. His only real friend was Kevin, but Kevin had moved to Oz long ago. They had texted shortly after the news hit.
‘Hey bud, you good?’ – Daryl
‘Yeah man, what are you gonna do? You good? – Kevin
‘Aye, it is what it is. Love ya bud’ – Daryl
‘Love ya too, pal.’ – Kevin
So here he was, with a front-row seat to the apocalypse, and he didn’t mind. Daryl wasn’t religious and he didn’t think much about what came after, if anything. He was content to sit on his lounger, with his beer and snack, and chill the fuck out.