The fist explosion came from the north

I sat on top of a local mountain that night, watching the stars fade in and out. The fist explosion came from the north, a little glowing spurt of lava shooting from below, intensified by the dark backdrop. And then another, supposedly dead lava streams, waking from a long sleep. The ground started to shake too and I could see trees falling and burning as the town below became a little rowdier. I smiled because this land destruction was timed peferctly– a world that needs the most cleansing finally burns to a pure finish. Their Beanie Babies lined up on the shelf with the glass on the cases melting into liquid: the investment of the ninties. A radio plays the regular top forty trash that was at its all time worst. Soon nothing but ash could be seen floating high in the sky, eye level with me on this mountain top. The heat was getting intense so I put on a pair of sunglasses ands started walking into the carnage. I hear that the explosion that ended it all and took me along in the terrible fate planned for the millenium, could be seen high above in space, little critters cheering at the end. Soon we became a ball of fire, not even as intense as the sun, plummeting.

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