Angels of rapture failed to do the dishes

I THINK I’ve been raptured but instead of waking up in heaven, I’ve somehow ended up in a weird parallel universe. And I’m very annoyed.

Like many others, I waited for Saturday for the end of the world. In the back of my mind I thought that just maybe it was a load of rubbish. But, hey, it’s always best to err on the side of caution.

So I prepared myself for the end. My friend Ruby came over and prepared a delicious last supper. It being the end of the world and all, I had two rather generous helpings, and a huge tub of chocolate mousse for dessert. I didn’t think the folk in heaven would mind much about my thunderous thighs. In fact, I’m sure if I asked nicely I could get free liposuction up there. I hear they are highly connected.

After sufficiently stuffing ourselves, Ruby made her way home sometime after 7pm. Truth be told, I had completely forgotten about the apocalypse by then. That is, until I heard a commotion outside.

I immediately went to my window to shoot dirty looks at whoever was outside. How dare they disturb my peaceful night in.

I hate to admit it, but my boss was right. I have been evolving into one of those suburban people who calls the cops at the slightest hint of fun being had by others a minute after sunset. In my defence there are so many people who do call the cops, I don’t actually have to do so myself. But I do think about it – often.

After watching four scruffy and very inebriated boys stumble down the road, I realised they were singing “It’s the end of the world as we know it”. Then I remembered. Rapture time.

Of course, the Americans said 6pm. But I figured it would probably take place later that night.

I left my window and prepared myself. I had a shower, shaved my legs – just in case we were required to wear knee-length robes – and put on some warm clothes.

I imagined sunshine and happiness in heaven, but didn’t think it would be very appropriate to wait in my bathing costume while it was 10°C down here.

I also wasn’t too sure about what to pack, if at all. After mulling it over, I decided that my angel-cum-escort wouldn’t mind if I brought just a few essential items along.

First on my list was the last few episodes of Vampire Diaries. Pained between choosing sandals or high heels, both were squeezed into the carry-on luggage. My toothpaste was also in there. I had been using that brand since childhood, and there was no way I was going to use anything else. I threw in a few more outfits, my favourite bangles, coffee machine, and some mini-shampoos.

There were so many things that had not been properly explained by Mr Harold “Doomsday” Camping. Important things like whether or not there would be cellphone reception and an internet connection up there. It would be cool to send a few e-mails with pictures to the poor sods who didn’t crack the rapture nod.

I tried calling my service provider about activating roaming, but the woman on the other end of the line seemed confused.

I quickly called Ruby to ask what she was taking with her. It took a while for her to answer the phone. It turns out that during the process of bubble wrapping her flat iron, laptop and television – not the flat screen, the one with the fat backside – she somehow managed to tape herself to the wall.

As the hours ticked on, I quietly lay on the couch, wrapped in my favourite blanket, waiting.

Boredom soon set in. I went to bed, figuring it would be so much better to wake up and just be there already. Like Christmas Day.

On Sunday morning I opened one eye first. Strange, it still looked like my room. Maybe that’s how it was designed to make us feel – right at home. Clever.

Descending the stairs, I expected to be greeted by a host of angels who had prepared a breakfast of freshly picked fruit, honey and other healthy stuff. Imagine my surprise when all that greeted me was a host of dirty dishes. Then my alarm went off, reminding me I had an early start to work that day.

Surely this couldn’t be right?

I grudgingly went to work using the same boring route. Went home and met the same boring neighbours. I watched the same boring Sunday night television line-up, and went to my boring bed without further ado.

I was very irritated.

Either my angel took a wrong turn at the corner of parallel and alternate universe, or I was still on Earth.

And this was as good as it was going get.

Well, wherever this is, I guess it’s time to unpack my bags. I have a feeling I’ll be here for a long while.