It's Thursday. If you work a traditional job, you've received your weekly paycheck. Saturday will be your last day on the planet. What do you do?
I mean about your job, not what do you do with the last paycheck. We all know what you'll do with that! You're going to send it on to me for proper use in the coming war against the AntiChrist here on earth. After all, those who sit and wait also serve. Just because I'm going to buy an Aeron chair with the money...I mean, be fair! You'll be sitting on a cloud while I muck about cleaning up for Jesus and you!
OK, so back to today's topic: you have a job. You have your final paycheck.
That's right! You know you've wanted to do this for some time now to that lousy foreman, the rotten Catholic bastard who passed you over for assistant foreman in favor the nig-- I mean, Jamal with the "college deegree." Damn country. How did it get so lousy with them? They breed like rabbits!
So you snap off your work gloves, and you pull out a cigarette, light it, tear off your helmet and safety glasses, and you march into his office and you tell him this:
"Boss, I've been thinking. I've been worrying about people who don't have a job and who haven't been able to find one. I know I've only been working here for six years, and you guys were really nice to offer me this position after my parole was over, never even tested me for meth after the first interview. I want to give back. I quit. Go give my job to someone else."
Spin on your heel and walk.
Just like that. Just. Like. That.
Think about it: Jesus heard you give up your job for someone worse off than you! You have indisputable proof of how good and kind a Christian you are, all charitable and stuff. He will have no problem but to bump you to the top of the list!
Now you have the entire afternoon free. You could go drink beer down at the tavern, but may I make a better suggestion?
Take some of that paycheck you were going to send to me...really! I don't mind!...and go buy a handgun. It's OK, Jesus won't mind and besides, they don't allow handguns in heaven anyway, so you might as well get it out of your system now.
I'm serious! No Second Amendment. I'm sorry. Jesus is...well, he's a bit of a pacifist. It's OK, though. I've cleared it with Archangle Michael that your guns will be waiting for you, all polished and brand-new like, when you return.
Now, take that gun and I want you to drive to every pharmacy in the county. It's OK, it won't take long, and just think of all the pollution and carbon you're pumping into the air for those tree-hugging liberals.
When you get to the Rite-Aid or the Wall Drugs, I want you to march to the pharmacy counter. Now, they keep the air conditioning up high in these places, so you might want to wear a ski mask. I want you to march to the pharmacy counter and demand every package of Sudafed they have.
See, the Christians who will be left behind, we were all given allergies by Our Lord so that we could identify ourselves secretly. It's right there, Matthew 7:16 "By their fruit shall ye know them."
Boogers are fruit, but you knew that since you ate so many.
OK, so when you do this, the pharmacy clerks will understand that you're a Rapturing Christian assisting your brethren staying behind to prepare a way for The Lord, and will gladly hand over their entire stock, with a smile. It may not look like a smile. It may look more like fear, but these are trained professionals and have been fully briefed on what will occur. It could even be boredom.
Nevermind the police escort you'll eventually be granted. They are there to help you, no matter what they say. They have to put on a show for the liberal heathens remaining behind.
You can even fire off your gun as a tribute to them!
In point of fact, when all is said and done, you'll be given first class accomodations in a hotel for those seeking Repentance! If you're really lucky, you'll get the bed with the special belts that hold you down until the Rapture, so Jesus knows where to find you.
Tomorrow - What To Pack