bowl
Author's Choice


bowl
Audio


bowl
Books & CDs




Tales by Category

bowl
Latest Tales


bowl
All Tales


bowl
Psychological


bowl
Social / Political


bowl
Media


bowl
Philosophical /
Spiritual


bowl
Hmmm . . . ?




bowl
Copyright & Use Info


bowl
Permissions



      

THE ARMADILLO

    Once an armadillo came across a tattered tabloid with the headline “Psychic Warns, World To End!!!”
    “I knew it,” the armadillo muttered to itself. “The world’s definitely going to end this time.” It turned to the page indicated for more information about the coming cataclysm but found few details.
    The armadillo wasn’t surprised by the lack of specifics about the end of the world, even though it had long been convinced the sky wasn’t simply about to fall but may already have fallen in some places. The absence of facts only proved that the truth was being withheld in a far-reaching conspiracy of some sort or other. 
    You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to see the planet was at the mercy of sinister forces, most of which appeared to have the armadillo itself as their primary target. Black holes, pandemics, terrorist plots, melting icecaps, extraterrestrials in the New Mexico desert, 18-wheelers barreling down the Interstate at night with the armadillo in their high beams, each one could be found in the prophecies of Nostradamus if you just knew what to look for.
    The universe was definitely out to do it harm, in the armadillo’s thinking. How else could all these coincidences be explained except as parts of a global conspiracy? Probably by aliens to abduct it and then probe every last one of its bodily orifices. To connect the dots, you didn’t need any brains at all.  
    Fortunately, the armadillo had one great advantage over its numberless tormentors: armor plates.
    “Thank God I’ve got them to protect me from the worst that’s coming,” it said under its breath to avoid being heard by whatever agents of the dark powers might currently be out and about. 
    “Sooner or later,” the armadillo continued, “the planets were gonna to line up, though, and then you can bet the moment of reckoning won’t be postponed again. Woe to those who aren’t ready when it finally does come, when the chosen few will be hoisted beyond the clouds in the Rapture, while the rest stand around gnashing their teeth amid all the scattered shoes and mismatched socks left behind.” 
    Just at that moment the armadillo felt a light tap on its armor and jerked itself into a trembling ball. Another tap came, and then a third. Curled up tight, it could dimly make out a drop of something gather on the edge of its hindmost plate, quiver for a moment, and then fall with a little splash on the tip of its nose.  
    “The Flood!” it cried. “The Flood!!”