A Snickers Bar During the End of the World

1.

Scientists told us that the end of the world would happen in April. I always thought April was the most boring month, so it seemed fair that the universe wanted to give us something to look forward to this year. I mean, a dying star hurtling into our atmosphere and incinerating the entire planet is a pretty big way to end it all, isn’t it? Not a lot of people are taking the news well, but I guess that’s to be expected. A lot of people joined cults—my gym instructor did, to no one’s surprise. I was planning to go to Paris, but it looks like that isn’t going to pan out. I am honestly more upset by the fact I wasted so many hours doing French Duolingo.

2.

At age sixteen, clad in a shoddy black dress and stupid cat ear headband, I spent my Halloween trick-or-treating with friends. I didn’t get why we needed to trick-or-treat (couldn’t we just buy candy at the store ourselves?) but they insisted on it. Their greedy hands grabbed the candy while I stayed back, looking at the trees. Well, what was left of them. The sky glowed red and I felt the sticky heat of polluted mist on my cheeks. Scientists hadn’t learned about the star yet, and chalked it up to global warming. When we went back into the house, my friends dumped their candy bags on the floor and huddled around the TV. Bundled on the couch, they feigned terror at old horror movies while I snuck into their candy stashes, trying to find Fun Size Snickers bars. Mom liked them the best, and I did too. Our favorite day of the year was the one  after Halloween, when we could buy a week’s worth of discounted Snickers bar bags to share over Friday movie nights.

3.

The first time I truly felt alone was when I went home with a guy my junior year of college. I think his major was biology or chemistry—I can’t remember exactly, and it doesn’t matter anyways. He whispered tequila into my ear at a party where the only person I knew was gone (she threw up in the bushes before I showed up). He tried to get me to understand the emission levels and radioactivity in Canada, but I could only focus on the burning liquor coating the inside of my throat. When he finally invited me over,  I obliged, numbed by the fuzzy, warm haze of vodka (and tequila, and rum). I sat on his bed, feeling eight again, waiting for my Mom to bring me a glass of water after a bad dream. But Mom wasn’t there to help me with this one. Under the sickly yellow lighting, he climbed on top of me, and I laid motionless, fixated on the dirty glass of water.

4.

Mom died three years after I graduated from college. She was driving home from the local school Christmas pageant when a power line toppled onto her car. The burning star caused an unprecedented power surge, and the world went into total blackout. I was at the movies on some bad date, thankful that I had an excuse to leave. When we shuffled out of the theatre, I was greeted by a voicemail box full of frantic messages from my aunt and the police station. They wouldn’t let me see the body, which was probably for the best. I barely remember her funeral. All that comes to mind is sitting in the car afterwards, staring at an old Snickers bar wrapper, wondering if she was eating one in the afterlife.

5.

The end of the world is today, according to recent calculations by scientists. I’m thankful that I don’t have to track the fiery ball of impending doom hurtling towards us, but I guess there’s some sense of security in knowing when this will all end. Unfortunately, I have nothing to do today and no one to be with; I broke up with my long-term boyfriend five months ago (he cheated on me). I guess being alone at the end is better than being together. I mean, I don’t have to see someone I love die in front of me. To be honest, getting incinerated with everyone else in the world isn’t the worst way to go.

6.

With nothing better to do,  I decide to go the donut store Mom and I would frequent on Sunday mornings. I pick up a hot cup of crappy coffee—but no donut, because I’d rather not feel sluggish when it all ends. Then I make my way to the park. I sit down on a bench—my favorite one, with its prime view of the ducks and the pond—and wait for my coffee to cool down. Across the pond, a man is walking, his head down and brow furrowed, lost in thought. When he looks up, I toast to him, and he stops pacing to wave back.

7.

The emergency text system buzzes to let me know the world is ending in two minutes, and  I can’t decide if it is a helpful or annoying last text message to receive. The man heads in my direction, and I offer him the seat next to me. He sits down, and I can tell he’s scared. I reach into my bag and take out a Snickers bar, and tenderly break it in half, offering it to him. His shoulders relax a little, and he smiles. We enjoy the nougat as we watch the star’s bright light engulf us all.

I remember how during the summers between fourth and fifth grade, Mom and I would freeze Snickers bars. Anytime I came home from camp fuming at a stupid boy’s joke or bruised and battered from an intense game of kickball, Mom would always be waiting for me with a nice, cold Snickers bar in her hands. Now, as the dying star swallows me whole, the Snickers bar feels surprisingly cool in my mouth. I imagine the heat around me like Mom’s hug, keeping me safe and warm, as the world dies with me.

Rose Bueno is a Cinema and Media Studies senior from Northern California. Her previous work can be found in the Lifestyle Section of the Daily Trojan and in the pop-culture publication Nerdist. On campus, you can find Rose spinning tracks as a DJ for USC’s student-run radio station, KXSC. Off campus, you can find her exploring the sights and sounds of Southern California. You can follow the rest of Rose’s creative journey on her Twitter.