Thursday 12 May 2016

An eight week idiot's guide on how to be a Prepper.


Week one
You don’t even know it’s started, but it has. You’re in bed having a final look at the day then you see the link, ‘Are you ready for the coming financial collapse?  “Well I’m not sure… perhaps I should click…holy shit! The banks run out of money? Marshal law! Sifting through bins for food… Really?” You mention it to your wife. She rolls her eyes. ‘It happened in Greece!’ you say, in a high-pitched voice that suggests you’re anything but prepared. She rolls over  “idiot”  sighs out of her mouth. Undeterred you stay up and watch a documentary about the Great Depression. You know, just to get a feel for what it would be like. It turns out the Great Depression, was quite the doozy.  
Week two
You start slow, buying a few extra tins at Lidl. You don’t tell anyone, especially the kids, they’ll give away your position.
Week three
Did someone order a cupboard full of beans?  Padlocked of course, you’re not stupid.
Week four
You go for walks under the cover of darkness, heading to the local ATM, where after making sure no one has followed you, you withdraw as much cash as allowed. When you get back home you stick this money in envelopes and hide it in the walls of your house, plastering over each stash for safe measure.
Week five
The plaster won’t dry and your marriage is barley hanging on.  You try and make jokes like ‘There’s plenty of money in the Banana Stand’ but your wife has never seen Arrested Development and doesn’t get the reference. Nope, she just thinks you’re a fucking psycho.
Week six
You find yourself heading down to the river to feed the ducks. ‘Finally, he’s stopped being weird.’ Have you? Or are you secretly befriending the ducks making them trust you so when the day comes, they waddle right up to the pan thinking ‘he’s a nice guy always gives us… BAM’. Two, three, if you’re quick four, dead ducks right in your duck sack. Plus you’ve been squirreling away the odd bottle of Hoisin. ‘What’s that Wifey? I’m crazy? Yeah crazy like a fox who dragged in some quack quack’s for din dins.’
Week seven
She’s gone. As have the children. They all left the same day you started wearing camouflage pants around the house. Or was it when you ordered the high-powered slingshot? It doesn’t matter, you have enough tins to get through this little hiccup. Oh yes you do…
Week eight

It does not look like she’s coming back which might not be a bad thing as the blood on your gums suggests, you’ve got scurvy. You have no electricity and that solar powered generator you spent all your money on, won’t work in a climate where there’s no fucking sun! On a sour note, you can’t locate your cash. Don’t be put off. Keep punching, you’ll find it.

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