The apocalypse went like this. It started with a power failure. Simple power failure in Kackatackacka, Nebraska. A small network went offline. No big deal. Happened pretty regularly out there where the maintenance went unmaintained and the power stations were unstationed and the men were unmanned. Nobody thought much of it until the effects of the EMP blast that had been detonated 45 miles above “Yeah But It’s Still Nebraska” Omaha started rippling outward, radiating like the EMP blast that it in fact was. It went north to Canada, blew out all the electronics at the southern border there. It went west to the Pacific and turned Los Angeles, San Francisco and Seattle into urban wastelands and left the residents without the practical skills this emergency required. It sizzled south to the South, where it ripped through all the high-voltage transformers and caused more damage I’m not informed enough to write about. It also went east. East to the coast, where the surge fried all the grids responsible for a modern comfortable lifestyle.

For thirty six hours the country was in chaos. After that time the chaos continued at a steady rate of 10 units. The internet went down immediately. The routers and service providers fell apart in a grizzly blast of poor reactions. Phones were also useless. Supermarkets across the country ran out of their supplies in these first thirty six hours. Everyone hoarded the apples first because after eating them they could be thrown around at annoying children.

On the third day, a coalition was formed. Comprised of militia men, conspiracy theorists, tough rural folk and bikers, this coalition established a headquarters outside Paquakt’tok’tk’t’kq’t’a, Wyoming. This headquarters had enough food to last for 3 years but only if no more members were admitted into the coalition. What was the purpose of the coalition? Simple. Just ask its founder, M’Hamram J’Famfram:

“What we wanted to do here okay is give ourselfs enough a head start here to outlast the rabble roamin’ round these parts here that’re bein’ all keen on comin’ on up here and askin’ what we got in mind for the big eventual govern’t showdown scheduled to transpire at any strike o’ the clock when we got ourselfs caught with our pants down round the porto, if ya follow what I implicatin’ here.”

Asked if any members of the coalition had read The Stand by Stephen King, they all replied with a flurry of uneaten apple cores.

Around fourteen-odd days into this national crisis the government did indeed step in to take matters into official federal hands. Coupla tanks and a coupla more tanks were all they needed to blast this coalition right apart at the seams which was not so much a difficult task as it was an uninteresting one considering nobody in the coalition had thought to arm themselves with nothin’ more than a bag of apple cores.

The end