December, 1999

December, 1999 - John & Joana Dunkin were losin’ their gosh-darned marbles over the news reports on the TVs claimin’ the world was gonna end the night of the ball drop. Neither one of ‘em had the intellect to understand what sorta “bug” was gonna ruin everything - nor the foresight to comprehend that perhaps, all would be swell and everything would be fine. John had lost his job down at the travel agency, and Joana had been outta work since before the previous New Year - back when the scares of the “Why-Two something’ Bug” had all been a bunch of mere hoopla. Faint murmurs of some dreaded event no one could comprehend. 

“They’re sayin’ all the computers’ll be wiped out clean, all the databases and the data collection, and all the banks hooked up to the internet’ll shut down so no one’ll have any money anyways. All the stores will shut down cause there won’t be any power, cause all duh electrical grids are hooked up to the internet”.

“Where the hell did you hear all that?”.

“On the TV…”

John didn’t have a dime to his name and all his credit cards were maxed out. Joana had been sittin’ in-front of the TV filing her nails since last Tuesday, and their poor daughter Jeanine wasn’t gonna get anything decent for Christmas. She played with her tattered little barbie doll in the bedroom. John was three months behind on rent (they lived in a two bedroom motel room along the interstate to Disney World), and the only reason they hadn’t been kicked out on their stupid asses was cause the landlord was a real sweet guy, who knew they had a daughter. 

John pranced around the living room nervous. 

“What are we gonna do?” Asked Jeanine. She was 6 weeks pregnant and didn’t even know it.

“What can we do… World’s going to shit and I just happen to live in it”

“You and me both, baby… But what about our little girl?”

John had no response. He looked over at the bedroom with saddened eyes baring self loathing desperation. His little girl played with her doll. She hadn’t a clue how broke they were. 

“Fuck it… World’s going to hell in a hand-basket anyways… I’m gonna go get little Jenny some Christmas toys”

“You are?”

“Yeah… And I’m gonna load up on some survival goods so we don’t end up washed away in the tidal wave when the shit hits the fan”

“When the shit hits the fan?”

“Yeah… When they’re burnin’ and lootin’ in the streets, all the street lamps zapped out. It’ll be just like them riots down in Miami”

“Don’t do nothin’ stupid” she pleaded to John in a mundane tone.

“I won’t…”

John rummaged through the closet retrieving his 9mm. Before he left, he stuck his head through the bedroom door his daughter was playing make belief in with her doll.

“Hey honey”

“Hey daddy” she answered, without looking away from her doll, and the little made up scenario she was playing out, with Barbie and her missing Ken. 

“Whatchu playin’?”

“Barbie is looking for Ken, but she can’t find him, cause all the lights in the whole wide world went out. Zap! Just like that” she explained animatedly. 

“All the lights?”

“All of em”

“Why? Cause of the Y2K thing?”

“Mhm”… 

John had had to sell his truck a month prior, to cover bits of his unpaid rent, and other expenses he didn’t care to think on (brought too much shame), so dead in the middle of the night, he strolled down to the interstate and stuck his thumb out lookin’ for a ride. No one picked him up. After a while, John would realize that whatever vague semblance of a plan he had cookin’ up in his head, would probably fall apart flat on it’s face entirely, if he made some well-to-do driver an accessory after the fact. So he walked 15 miles south along the interstate, towards the bright neon-lit retail signage of some lonesome liquor store glistening in the smog of a humid mid-night. 

John enters the shop, without a mask. Some punk-ass teenager sits behind the counter. He looks about as miserable as John does. 

“Empty the register” John says calm, without pullin’ his gun.

“Wha?” asks the bewildered kid. 

“Just do it”

The kid says nothing and stares at John a minute. 

“I got a pistol, and I don’t wanna use it”

“Alright man… Take it easy”

The kid does as he’s told. 

“You know…” he says to John, who’s 9mm is tucked into the back of his blue jeans, hidden rather sloppily under his dirty white shirt, “We got cameras in the front and right up there” he says turning around to point at the camera sitting idle in the upper corner of the ceiling. 

“Yeah?…” John says dumbfounded, like the kid behind the counter were the stupid one. 

“Just saying’ man”

“Don’t you know the world’s gonna fall apart after the New Year?”

“It is?…”

“Yeah. All the computers will shut off cause all the clocks and calendars were only pre-programmed to count on past double digits. So all the computers are gonna think it’s 1900 when it’s really 2000, so they’ll all malfunction and reset, and that’s gonna cause a big ol’ power outage and the whole countries gonna go to shit”

“It will?”

“Yeah. And everybody’s gonna be looting stores and burning shit. Stealing supplies just to survive. Betchu people will be stealing guns and weapons, and what not, shooting at each other for sport”

“Holy shit…” says the poor kid behind the counter, wide-eyed, eatin’ all of John’s bullshit hook-line-and-sinker.

“I’m just getting’ myself ahead of this thing before things get real bad”

“Well shit partner” says the kid as he presses a couple of buttons to pop open the register, “If that’s the way it’s gonna be, I may as well jump ahead of the line like you are”, he adds, grabbing handfuls of cash outta the register. 

“Hey man! Save some for me!” John protests, grabbing outta the register whatever crumpled up bills or change the kid behind the counter had left over. Hopping over said counter, the kid grabs a couple of bottle of gin and splits-on-outta-there, runnin’ out to the parking lot to hop in his truck. John sees an opportunity and seizes it. 

“Hey kid! Think you could give me a ride home?” 

John shows up back to the house with $35 cash and a bottle of whiskey. 

“That’s all you could rummage?”

“Shit… It’s better than nothin’, bitch”

Jeanine rolls her eyes and turns her attention back to the TV. Within minutes it slowly dawns on her, that perhaps the whole Y2K thing was/is just a bunch of hornswoggle. A load of bologna to trick dummies like her, and her husband. She watches Oprah speak to Dr. Oz about weight loss and liposuction, as her sweet little daughter plays Barbie lost her Ken doll in the bedroom.