CHAPTER 25

The End of the World

(July 1, 2015)

On the way to work I happened to see a homeless man standing on a street corner. He had a long gray beard and a tattered robe, giving him the appearance of a down and out Moses. In his dirt-caked hands was a large cardboard sign that read “The Apocalypse Is Nigh!” I just stood there staring at him for a second, wondering if the man would recognize The End when it really came.

That night, this is what I wrote in my journal:

Nothing seems funny to me anymore. It’s hard for my old fans and colleagues to accept this. Many of them actually think I’m playing some kind of elaborate Andy Kaufman trick on them, that I’m still performing comedy in disguise, planning a future comeback that will somehow propel me into fame and fortune. The harder I try to convince them this isn’t true the more they believe it. As you might imagine, this can grow rather annoying. After hours of contemplation I’ve decided there’s only one solution to this problem: stop talking to my old fans and colleagues. Of course, this might fuel the myth even more but I don’t care. I don’t need their attention. If they want to accept me for what I’ve become, fine. If not, they can just leave me alone. As a very wise man once said, “There’s more important things in life than trying to impress people, on or off a stage.”

I haven’t laughed in a very long time. Occasionally I feel as if I should regret this, though I’m not sure why. Most of the time … most of the time I don’t think I would have it any other way.

Looking back on it, the Apocalypse might’ve been the best thing that ever happened to me.

To all of us.