Like this:

Not that I’m keeping track in an official capacity, but there are blinking neon signs that guide humanity’s path to the apocalypse.  I experienced one such sign last night, a sign of such magnitude that it broke the second law of dealing with the general public, the one about all children being annoying beyond belief, screaming bloody murder, playing with the carousel while the cashier’s using it, etc. I forget the exact wording.

It was a cool and crisp evening, and the moon hung low in the sky. I was working register fifteen when a woman and her two children came through with a gigantic box that was bigger than both the kids put together. It was a kit to build a Millennium Falcon replica that looked like it would be close to four feet long when it was finished. The thing’s like $160, and the kid was paying for it with his own money–his birthday money. I asked him how old he was, and he said seven, and I told him that from now own, he should turn seven every year. I was actually so excited about the Falcon (yes, I’m one of those SW nuts), that I actually knuckled the kid.  He was not annoying in any way, spoke like an adult and actually got the joke.

I almost died of shock (a normal, well-behaved kid in WALMART? Paying for his own CRAP? It’s a tale of science-fiction itself!) until I realized this is probably a sign from God that the world of the end is neigh.

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