Date: Fri, 4 Dec 2009 10:36:23 -0800 (PST)
From: Henry Brooks <hankster1430@bellsouth.net>
Subject: The End of The World

I never go to see disaster movies, monster movies, end of the world movies,
or any films of that ilk.  You see, even though I am almost a senior
citizen, I act like a kid when I see these films.  That is, I have
nightmares for weeks and I can't sleep.  Something inside of me believes
that the disastrous event depicted fictionally on the screen, has a
distinct possibility of coming true, even though my intellect tells me that
it's hogwash.  Rational or not, at least I save the cost of admission, and
I can put the money to better use.

Before I tell you my story, let me tell you something about me, so that you
can digest what I tell you within the context of my background.  Having
said that, I can promise you that my story will be all the more surprising
than if my history remained unknown to you.  A good deal of what I will
relate would be considered sinful by many people, but please don't make
judgments.  As Hamlet's father's ghost instructed the young prince, these
matters should be left to heaven.  I have always maintained that Will
Shakespeare knew everything.  He was the wisest man who ever lived.  His
muse must have been God himself.

So here goes.  I am now fifty-five years old.  My wife died of ovarian
cancer just three years ago, before the bad things began to happen.  I live
in Georgia, but my son lives in Los Angeles, where he is a pulmonary
physician, and my daughter lives with her family in New Haven, where her
husband teaches physics at Yale.  I say, they live, but their survival is
highly unlikely at this time.  More of that later.  I am writing about me.

I am a Baptist minister.  I began my ministry at the age of twenty-five,
right out of seminary.  My church is located in Atlanta and I have been
there the entire thirty years of my ministry.  Why did I say my church is
located...?  Most likely, it no longer exists.

I was married by our senior minister on the first weekend of my ministry.
I didn't want to take a honeymoon, but Reverend Daley insisted.  We made it
short and sweet and returned for services the following Sunday.  My son
Daniel was conceived on our honeymoon.

I guess you could call me a rather liberal Baptist.  I despise
discrimination on any basis; religion, race, gender, and even sexual
orientation.  As I told you before, I firmly adhere to the admonition to
leave all these judgments to heaven.

This is no time for humility, so let me be frank.  I have always been very
handsome and I could have been quite the lady killer, but the deep love I
had for my wife would not permit me to cheat.  Now I am too frail and too
gaunt to be considered handsome anymore.  My blond hair is now peppered
with gray, and my shining blue eyes have lost their luster over the years.
I stand six feet tall and even when things were `normal' I had no excess
fat.  I was always lean, maybe even a little on the skinny side.

My wife and I raised our two kids to stand on their own, and when the time
came, they did.  Before we knew it, they left our cozy home, and Nancy and
I were empty nesters for about five years.  Then she began to feel tired,
and she began to lose weight for no apparent reason.  She died a mere six
months after her diagnosis.  I was devastated, and immersed myself in my
work.

By this time I was the senior pastor at my church, and I had a young
assistant who was just out of seminary.  He reminded me so much of me when
I first came to the church.  He was infinitely more handsome than I, and
many of the mothers in my flock were not shy about wanting me to `fix up'
their daughters with him.  To my credit, I never tried.  If Paul was
interested, he could act on his own.  I was not aware that he ever dated,
but he spent many evenings with a friend of his from seminary days.  His
friend George was the assistant pastor at a church clear across town.

Paul and I had a good working relationship.  Most ministers in my position
would be reluctant to let go, and would probably not assign more duties to
their assistant, but not I.  I was happy to allow Paul to do whatever he
wanted to do.  I still had trouble concentrating on my work after the loss
of my wife, and I was happy to lean on his shoulder.  In fact, Paul had
rented a small room in a boarding house very near to the church.  My house
was large and very empty, and I asked Paul if he would like to occupy my
son's old room.  He hesitated for a few days before giving me an answer,
and before he did, he asked me, "Do you think it would be proper for two
single men to live together?"  I should have known what he was referring
to, but things like that never crossed my mind.  I have already told you
that.  Without even realizing what he meant, I answered.

"Nonsense.  There's nothing wrong with it."

He accepted the offer and moved in with me.  I was delighted to have his
company.  His friend George even came to dinner quite often, but when they
went out for the evening together, I found myself strangely lonely and
jealous.  It made me realize that I didn't have a close friend to hang out
with.  I sort of made a resolution to alter that situation.

Paul had been living with me a little over two years, when we first began
to notice that something was wrong.  Well, I shouldn't say something was
wrong, rather, something wasn't quite right.  We were three or four weeks
shy of the Thanksgiving Holiday service and Paul and I decided to come up
with a surprise for the congregation.

"Let's do something they would never expect, but which they will remember
for a long time," he said.

I had stopped being innovative a long time ago, so I said, "I'll leave that
to you, young man.  Come up with something that will knock them out."

"I have an idea," he said.  "I'll bounce it off you if I get an affirmative
answer from a friend of mine."

Several days passed.  At dinner that night, Paul was grinning like a
Cheshire cat.

"What?" I asked.

"I don't know if you will approve of this," he started to say, "but here
goes!  I have a friend who sings baritone with the gay men's chorus.
Within that organization, he belongs to a four man harmony group who sing
accappella.  They entertain in hospitals, nursing homes, nursery schools
and so on.  I asked them to sing hymns of thanksgiving at our service,
dressed as pilgrims.  What do you think?"

I was stunned.  I didn't mind a bit that these men would sing for us.  What
stunned me was that Paul had a friend who was gay.  I hesitated too long,
and Paul said, "Well, it was just an idea."

"And a good one," I replied.  "I approve, of course."

I decided to be honest with Paul.  "I was just taken aback a little to know
that you had a gay friend or friends.  Please don't misunderstand.  I don't
think it's wrong at all.  I was just surprised."

"Peter, Peter," Paul replied.  "As we continue to live together, you will
find that I am full of surprises." We both laughed at that.

The service was a huge success.  The congregation thoroughly enjoyed the
harmony group, and was fully aware that they were gay.  The group received
a standing ovation lasting several minutes.  Finally Paul asked them to be
seated and he started his sermon.  He chose the story of Noah and the flood
as his subject.  "How much more thankful can a man be, than for his Lord to
spare his life and the lives of his family?" Paul asked rhetorically.

It was what he said to conclude the sermon that set me thinking and my mind
reeling.  "God placed a rainbow in the sky as a sign that he would never
again destroy the world by flood and water," Paul said.  "I think God is
playing games with us.  This time it will be drought and fire, judging by
the way our weather has been."

It was true.  I suddenly realized that I could not remember the last time
it had rained.  City officials were warning us that water would be rationed
shortly, and we would have to forget about our lawns, and let them die.  I
hadn't seen clouds in weeks, and with no cloud cover, the temperature never
went below seventy-five degrees, even though it should average in the high
forties this time of year.  I began to pay attention to the weather
reports, not only locally, but around the world.

On the Monday after the service, I received an unexpected call from a
friend of mine.  I hadn't spoken to Luke in quite awhile, and I was
pleasantly surprised to hear from him.  "My wife is away for the holiday,"
he informed me.  "She went to visit my son, but she's staying on for a week
or more, so I didn't go with her.  How would you like to go down to the
lake for some fishing, and we'll camp over just the one night?"

God is helping me with my resolution to find a hang out buddy, I thought,
and I accepted right away.  We agreed to leave late Tuesday morning and
return late Wednesday afternoon.  We both felt that was all the time we
could spare.

Luke picked me up at about 11 AM. We arrived at the lake at about 1 PM, and
were appalled at what we saw.  The lake was so low that there was dead
plant life all over the shore line and worse, decaying fish were lying
amidst the decaying plants.  We decided definitely not to pitch our tent
there.

"Let's drive a few miles further," Luke suggested.  "I know another lake up
that way.  Maybe it will be better.  There's a diner along the way where we
can stop for lunch."

Somehow, neither of us thought that conditions would improve, so we
lingered over our lunches, chewed the fat, and indeed, we did agree to hang
out together more often.  We didn't arrive at the next lake until after 3
PM.  It was worse than the first lake.  All that remained of this beautiful
body of water were a few little puddles.  All plant and animal life were
dead.  I couldn't help wondering why none of this was being reported.  I
didn't remember hearing anything about it on the newscasts.  We were at a
very high elevation, and it was the end of November, but the temperature
was just shy of eighty degrees.  Yes, something was definitely not right.
Now I could dare say that something was terribly wrong.  Instinctively I
turned my face toward the sky, hoping for divine explanation.

We agreed that the best course of action would be to just go home, but we
decided to have dinner together before parting and plan another evening to
hang out together.  It was almost 9 PM when Luke dropped me off at home.  I
could see George's car in my driveway and was pleased that Paul wasn't
spending the evening alone.  I expected to see the two young men watching
TV or just talking in the living room, but they weren't there, and the
house seemed very quiet.  Maybe they are out walking, since the temperature
is so mild, I thought.

Then I thought I heard a noise from upstairs.  It might have been a slight
laugh or maybe a sigh.  I wasn't sure.  I crept quietly up the staircase,
not knowing what to expect.  Paul's door was open.  What I saw made me
gasp, but I stifled my gasp so that I couldn't be heard.

Paul and Luke were standing at the side of Paul's bed.  They were naked and
holding each other tightly.  They were kissing so passionately that I could
only think that I had never kissed my wife that passionately, nor had she
ever kissed me quite that way either.  I was surprised to note that I felt
a pang of jealousy.  They were fondling each other's cocks.  I should have
been ashamed and outraged, but was surprised to feel arousal instead.  They
were totally unaware of my presence.

Paul took hold of George's shoulders and sat him down on the edge of the
bed.  Then he knelt between George's legs and took George's very erect cock
into his mouth.  I was frozen in place, but I knew I had to do something.

I had options, of course.  I could make my presence known and order George
out of my house.  Or I could go quietly downstairs, re-enter the house
noisily so that they could hear me, and interrupt their play.  That would
be cruel, I thought.  Or I could leave the house and call Paul to let him
know that I was coming home early.  I didn't know what I should do, but I
was certain that I wasn't angry or upset, and that in fact, I was aroused.
That shocked the hell out of me.

I have always been a heterosexual.  I can't remember ever having a
homosexual yearning in my life.  I didn't even know any gays, male or
female.  At least, I was not aware that I knew any of these people.  With
all the ministering I did for my congregation, I cannot recall a single
incident when a homosexual came to me to ask my advice on how he should
handle his life.  Anyway, I would have been ill equipped to offer advice if
it had been asked of me.

I was so confused about my being aroused, and I was so lost in thinking
what my next move should be, that I failed to hear Paul gasp, "Peter,
you're home."  He was forced to call my name again before I could react.  I
looked up to see the two young ministers trying to get their briefs on and
fumbling badly.  I was so embarrassed that I just ran down the stairs, and
collapsed on my big easy chair in the living room.

After awhile they came downstairs, fully clothed.  "I'm sorry, Peter," Paul
said.  I didn't want you to find out this way.  I wanted to tell you soon
in my own way.  I don't ask you to forgive me, just to try to understand."

"It's not hard for me to understand that you are both gay," I mumbled.
"I'm just so shocked.  I wish you had told me, Paul, so I wouldn't have
found out in such a sordid way.  Surely you know that I wouldn't have been
judgmental."

"I know.  I should have told you long ago.  I'm really sorry," Paul said
sadly.

Finally George spoke up.  "Paul and I have loved each other since the first
day we met in seminary.  What we were just doing was not sordid, Peter.  We
were making love.  We have been hesitant to ask you, but we have been
hoping you would perform a commitment ceremony for us, outside the church,
of course."

"Wow, that's a zinger," I said.  "Never in my life did I think I'd
officiate at one of those ceremonies."

"Nobody would know," Paul said.  "It would just be the three of us and a
couple of our friends."

"Let me think about it," I said.  "My mind is too boggled right now to make
a rational decision.  In the meantime, George, I assume you were going to
spend the night here, so don't let me change your plans.  Just close the
door and try to be quiet."  I laughed as I said that, and that relaxed the
boys considerably.  I was quite surprised when they both embraced me and
kissed me on the cheeks.

"You're a prince," Paul said, as he bounded up the stairs holding George's
hand.  As I watched them hurry to a certain sexual encounter, I was
surprised at how hard my cock had grown.  In fact, I had to go to the bath
room and seek relief.


As the days passed, the temperatures continued to rise.  No rain was in
sight.  I called my son-in-law, the physicist at Yale, to ask him if he had
any idea what was up.  He started to explain that there was no scientific
explanation.  The earth was no closer to the sun than usual, and the sun
was not burning any hotter, but there was simply less and less moisture in
the air.  The ozone layer was no worse off than it had ever been.  Even the
oceans were evaporating and as the surface came closer to the earth's core,
more heat was being generated into the atmosphere.  At the poles, it would
be expected that the ice would be melting, but it wasn't.  The ice was
simply evaporating, and was not replenishing the ocean waters.

We had not finished talking when the call seemed to disconnect, and all I
could get was static.  After that I could never again reach my son in Los
Angeles nor my daughter in New Haven.

That night, a chemical factory in town spontaneously combusted from the
heat.  Their air conditioning system had failed, and the excessive heat
affected the chemicals.  In fact, electric power was being lost all over
the city.  It happened during the night, so fortunately nobody was hurt.
After that, the residents of the earth were not so lucky.

During services the next Sunday at George's church, some cleaning chemicals
which were stored in the basement, combusted.  The church went up in a
blaze and was gone in minutes.  George and twenty-two of his flock were
killed.  I regretted that I had never gotten around to giving him and Paul
their wish to have a commitment ceremony.  I was truly angry at myself for
being so hesitant to unite these two beautiful human beings.

Paul was inconsolable.  Strangely he was able to strengthen himself with
the certain knowledge that it was only a matter of time for the rest of us.
Life did not go on as usual.  Fires erupted all over the city.  Food and
water were disappearing at an alarming rate.  There was panic and looting
all over the city.  Paul and I locked and fortified our doors and windows.
We sat still all during the terrible nights, with my arms held tightly
around him.  I tried to keep him calm, but he cried constantly for George.
We began to sleep in the same bed fully clothed.  We had to stay alert
watching for small fires which might erupt in the house, and we needed to
be together to warn each other of such a contingency.  We were completely
cut off from the rest of the world.

Finally we lost our water supply, but we had hoarded dozens of bottles of
water, which we drank sparingly.  We could not be concerned that the water
was warm, almost hot.  In time we had to shed all our clothing because the
heat was unbearable, and we kept one wash cloth damp so that we could
somehow bathe ourselves.

In the midst of all this tragedy, Paul's naked body began to arouse me.  I
wanted desperately to hold him and to do what he and George were doing when
I first came upon them, but in his grief, I could not even suggest it.
Still I was curious.  One night we were lying naked in bed together,
comforting each other as best we could.  I asked him, "What's it like to
make love to a man?"

"What's it like to make love to a woman?" he answered my question with a
question.

"I don't know.  I guess it's something you can't explain."

"I know," Paul said.  "You just have to experience it.  Look, we are
barricaded in this house.  We are running out of food and water.  If the
house doesn't burn up around us, we'll be dead soon from dehydration and
starvation.  I love you Peter, not like I loved George, of course, but with
such a short time left for us, I would be happy for us to make love so that
I could show you what it's like to make love to a man.  I wish you could
show me what it's like to make love to a woman before I die, but it's not
in the cards for us.  Are you willing to try?" Paul asked me.

I didn't answer quickly.  I thought of a time, just days ago, when we were
both a little stronger, and about how his naked body had aroused me and I
said, "Yes, Paul.  Please make love with me.  It's been a long time since I
made love to anyone.  I'm glad it's with you."

We were both very weak, and we knew that whatever we did, it would be
limited and difficult.  Paul moved closer to me and now our bodies were
touching.  It felt so comforting to feel him, but immediately I became
alarmed.  He was burning up.  I reached over and put my palm on his
forehead.  There was no doubt he had a high fever.

I felt him lay his hot hand on my thigh.  He began to rub it gently up and
down, and when he rubbed on the inside of my thigh, my body actually
chilled for a moment.  I was overwhelmed with a sensual emotion.  He
continued to rub gently until I could feel his palm cup my balls. I erected
immediately and he wrapped his hand around my cock and stroked gently.  I
figured that he was going to masturbate me, but when he could tell that I
was very hard, he sat up and then leaned over me.  He enveloped my cock in
his mouth and began to suck it gently.  His tongue was parched and rough,
but I was beginning to emit some precum.  Paul caught it with the tip of
his tongue, and lubricated his mouth and my cock as best he could.  His
moistened tongue licked up and down my shaft and his lips pumped from the
outside.  His hand played gently with my balls.  I could not remember the
last time I had cum, and it was welling up in me fast.  I wanted to warn
him, but I was too weak.

I came in his mouth and he lapped up every drop of cum.  When he was done
and he had recovered somewhat, he said, "That's very healthy, you know.
Lots of protein.  You should have some nourishment yourself."

I smiled sheepishly at him.  I was shocked that I went right down on him,
without reticence, without hesitation.  In fact, I went down on him
greedily, and when his time came, I swallowed his protein as well.
Afterwards, we lay on our backs, holding hands, trying to recuperate.

"Did you like it?" he asked curiously.

"Yes," I said, "very much.  I thought I would be revolted somehow, but the
experience was very pleasant.  You taste really good, Paul."

"I hope we have the strength to try anal sex in a little while," Paul said
as he fell asleep.

I lay there thinking about what he said.  He wanted to have anal sex with
me, and I desperately wanted to experience it.  I couldn't believe my own
thoughts as I too fell asleep.

I woke up at dawn.  I had to pee.  I hadn't peed in a couple of days, for
lack of water.  I could hear Paul snoring lightly.  I looked over at his
naked body and his flaccid dick.  I laid my palm on his cock and stroked it
lightly.  There was no sign of arousal, so I leaned over and kissed his
parched lips.  His breath was foul, but I reckoned mine was just as bad.
He lay still but he sighed.  I knew he was too weak to do much else.  His
forehead burned even hotter.

I peed, but there was no way to flush.  The house stunk of human waste.  I
went into the kitchen to scavenge for liquid and food, but the cupboards
were truly bare.  I thought about swallowing Paul's cum, that's how hungry
and thirsty I was, but I sincerely doubted that I could arouse him.

The wet cloth we had used to cleanse ourselves was bone dry.  I had wanted
to put a cold, damp cloth on Paul's sweet forehead, but alas, it was not to
be.  If I could produce some sweat, I would have bathed his head with it,
but I couldn't even do that.

The trip to the kitchen had expended my final energy.  I just about crawled
back to the bedroom and lay down next to Paul.  I took his hand, but it
felt different somehow.  I listened carefully, but I could not hear him
breathing.  I looked at his face.  It was no longer red and flushed.  His
face had taken on a serene expression and, I swear, he was smiling.  I
dared hope that at the moment he died, he saw God and smiled.

I wanted so much to cry, but I could not produce a single tear.  I rolled
over on top of him so that my cock rubbed against his.  Gently I dry humped
him.  I didn't expect it to happen, but I could feel an orgasm emerging
from deep within me.  As I held Paul tight and spilled my seed upon his
lifeless cock, I thought I smelled something.  I rolled off him and smelled
deeper.  It was without a doubt the smell of smoke.

As we had long expected, the house had combusted.  All the windows and
doors were sealed and I didn't have the energy to pull off the boards and
run outside into the searing heat.  I kissed Paul on the cheek, and took
his hand.  I knew that I was either about to enter an eternity of darkness,
or an eternity reflected in God's light.  My faith prevailed, and I made my
choice.  I squeezed Paul's lifeless hand as hard as I could, with the
unquestionable certainty that in a few short minutes, he would introduce me
to God.