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.
