@TheEndsOfTheWorld

There are no secrets. Everything leaks.And in the end, there's no place you can hide from what you've done.General Maquino wanted to end civilization and rebuild it in his image. His plan required recruiting the best and brightest and promising them a place in the new world.The smartest of them were too smart for that.In a secret silo in a hidden location far from the General's devastation, they thought they'd be safe.They were wrong.From the Author: It's a pretty grim story, about terrible people doing horrible things to each other. Yes, there are secrets revealed. No, there is no redemption here, only Armageddon. And then some more Armageddon.These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us. He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.

These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.Claudia's bit into something that has bitten her back. Like the crawling insect she is, she runs when the bright light shines upon her, as if she deserved the darkness. This ends tonight. Humanity cannot claim it didn't get the error-message.Solve et CoagulaThe world falls apart when she comes under the spotlights, playing against the Computer in 'The Game of Your Life!' which, like all things, must come to an end. And Claudia will become a god.The World is Dead! Long Live 'The World'(TM)! He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.

These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.Tod Donavon (59), Las Madres Police Department, has detected something horribly wrong with his ex-wife, and it just might have something to do with the thrill-kill cult he's investigating. And possibly his frequent blackouts.If only Internal Affairs would quit chewing his ring, he could finally get some work done and maybe even find some of these missing kids. Someone's not doing their job, but if he's left alone to do his there won't be any work left, nor anyone to do it.This is how Tod's world ends, and how he's ending yours--yesterday was a crimson blur, and tomorrow brings the rising of the Black Sun.CONTENT WARNING: LanguageThis main character has a particularly foul mouth. Cursing throughout. He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.

Beware-you might get what you thought you wanted.Elena's a faceless 20-something trying their best to survive in a hostile environment full of predators.They'll find out the environment itself is trying to survive them.When nothing is certain and it looks most like all hope is lost...That's the time to strike.From smallest to largest, lowest to highest, least to greatest-the weapon now assembles itself from within.These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us. He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.

(NOTE: THIS IS A SCREENPLAY-FORMATTED DOCUMENT - CONTENT WARNING: LANGUAGE THROUGHOUT)The sky is falling! The sky is falling!The sky IS falling, but also the dead are rising from their graves, alien fleets are invading from space, and weaponized super-virus germ-cultures are rattling around loose in the backs of semi trucks.But this is nothing new.It's one goddamn thing after another, and it always has been. The world's always ending, somewhere, for someone...Alex has lived with peril his whole life; it's made him tough, hardened. The world's a little darker, a little less friendly, and now he is too.Surviving the day-to-day, the name of the game has always been 'Git Mine,' until all that's left to snatch is each other's crumbs.Prepare to laugh yourselves into your graves!Fuck you, this is...CRUMBSNATCHER He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.

(NOTE: THIS IS A SCREENPLAY-FORMATTED DOCUMENT)F o O L p r O o F i S h !Mike thought that 'going with the flow' meant being laid-back. He didn't realize that meant everything going downhill.Mike thought that 'taking tomorrow as it comes' was a guarantee of a tomorrow to come.Mike thought.Mike's not sure where his life is going, which should have been determined by where it's been, but even that much is yet to be determined.The mind left too far open for too long will eventually fall out, or have something dropped into it--but what could possibly go wrong?These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us. He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.

These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.You got yourself into this; now it's time to get yourself out.You burn from the inside with the knowledge of everything wrong in this world, and you may not know how it should be but you certainly know how it shouldn't be.You know all these things, and the more you know them the more real they become.With death after death after death between you and your enlightenment, there is only a single step to take before you reach your end, and it's a step that spans the infinite. Once past it, you can turn to look and see that it was never really there at all, that the self-maintaining illusion of separation was never necessary even as it was absolutely essential, and that you are surrounded by many broken reeds.And there is a great wind coming. He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.

These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.Dear fellow Traveler;Though we may be separated by thousands of years, I cannot find enough space to put between us. The heat of your touch still lingers where the flesh separates and turns to dirt, and smoulders there with the sting of love's decomposition. Yes, I understand that you'll know an awful lot about how things break down. It's what you do. It's *all* you do.Truly, I will never forget you. I know that you'll hope I will.As this world falls apart around us, I trust that this letter finds you in good spirits, as I never *ever*, ever wish to meet with you in these bodies again. I don't know if you'll be a different person when next we meet, and we will. I don't know either if I will recognize you, as I'm sure I'll be very different then, too.And I'm uncertain whether that world will be a different place, one in which we could get along side-by-side while not tearing each other apart. How wonderful could this be if we weren't pitted against each other so often in mortal combat? I cannot be certain that either of us would ever come away again as whole people if once more we clashed as lovers, as enemies, or even as total strangers--but I know with all surety that there would only be pieces remaining.Of this I am *very* sure. I myself would make sure of it.Masonna can't dig herself out from under all the dead, Dennis can't help but join them, and Old Man Grampus just keeps adding to their numbers. Every little tweak, every little corrective course-change, every dodge and avoidance brings them further out of balance and closer to the inevitable collapse. Across the span of ages, our problems remain the same in new and ever more exotic fashions and the same old extinction awaits us at every turning of the Great Big Wheel.NO ONE HAND TURNS THE WHEEL; ALL HANDS TOGETHER STOP IT He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.

A man hopelessly lost, Saul can't afford to give any more of himself away to a decoy reality-he's about to meet the woman from his wildest fantasies.This isn't a good thing, not by a long-shot, for either one of them.Phoebe's an artist so frustrated and stunted by failure that she's forgotten the person she was supposed to be, and now it may be too late for her. She'll go to any lengths to catch her dreams in her net and pin them into frames, even if the characters she envisions have lives of their own and very different ideas about how they want to live them.Troubled by crossovers from the dream-world, the lines between fantasy and reality are so thinly-drawn and shaded with blood that everything's gone all backwards and lopsided, but there's still an answer. Will he be able to recognize her for who she really is? Or will these two people meet just to finish the job of finishing each other off? No problem is insurmountable-there's a machine to help with that.Third-party built to maintain a system long since destroyed by a race gone extinct aeons ago, this machine will precisely delineate the law and set everything straight, once and for all.That which was secret shall be made known; that which was hidden shall be revealed.EVERYTHING WILL BE MADE CLEAR He is a fictional character in the Horror-Play "The Greatest Practical Joke Ever", by Shaytan Komp'ü'tor. He has never made love to a beautiful woman, never wallowed in fresh kill, never found a briefcase full of hundred-dollar bills. In fact, he doesn't even exist at all. So there...And another:Boris D. Schleinkofer is a slave, just like you and everybody else. He lives near the monolith of Baal. His number is 5x2-00x1-11. He is a good citizen. These are the ends of the world; we are at them, they are at our throats.Whether or not we choose to shout ourselves awake from these nightmares is up to us.