Dubs and the Last Day

If you haven't been following, this is the fourth and final post about my gullible, Mayan apocalypse-fearing, whiskey-guzzling  friend, Dubs McClusky.  If you want to understand this post I strongly suggest that you read the first three parts first.  Parts one and two have been combined and can be found here. You can read part 3 here.

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He  was back, looking spiffier than I'd ever seen him.  He had really cleaned up.  None of his clothes had stains, and it looked as if he might have attempted to iron his shirt.  He really wanted to look good for the last day of the  world.

"Wow, Dubs," you really look good.

Smoke on the steps of the cathedral in Chichicastenango, Guatemala are part of mystical Mayan magic.

"Yeah, thanks.  Well, I just thought I should... just in case... you know.  It's the big day and we're still here, so I guess I got here in time.  And you've got your camera.  That's good."  He looked around. "Where's Maria?"

"She's out, Dubs.  She'll be back in a while."

"I hope she's not too late.  I wanted to spend my last minutes with both of you, you  know."

"She shouldn't be too long, Dubs."  The truth is that I had told her of my elaborate plan to make the end of  the world really exciting for Dubs, and she wanted to have nothing to do with it.  She told me she would be back after my cruel joke was over.

A couple of days earlier, I had talked with my buddy, Rob Coleman, the news director and well-known anchorman at one of the local television stations. We had gone to college together in the radio and tv program, and both of  us had worked together at the same station for awhile.  He agreed to help me  produce a newscast just for Dubs, which we would record immediately after the 10 p.m. news on Wednesday night and play for Dubs on the world's last day, as if were happening live.  I had written the script for Rob, and also produced some graphics for the video production.  Rob even agreed to send a news truck to my house at just the right time if it wasn't too busy of a news day.  

"Well, Dubs, it's a little early to be drinking, but this might be the end of the world, so why don't you go to the bar and get that last bottle of 18 year old Scotch,  and we can drink against the end of  the  world again."

"Okay," he said.

"And I think the local TV station is supposed to be doing coverage of  the end of the world.  I'll turn it on and see if anything is happening."

"Okay," he said, as he started to the bar.

As he was gone, I turned on the TV and inserted the DVD that I had recorded.  I turned the sound on the TV loud and clicked play just as Dub appeared at the doorway with two big tumblers of whiskey.

Rob Coleman was at the anchor desk, looking just like he does every weekday night at ten.  Now, though, his face seemed filled with worry.  "...and this really does seem to be the end of the world, just as the Mayas predicted," his voice echoed over my surround sound speakers.  "Cities across the world seem just to be disintegrating..."

"Noooo..." screamed Dubs. 

"Tokyo, Rome, London, now gone," intoned the newsman, somberly.  "Other places across the globe crumbling...."  He then paused for a second as if something even bigger had happened.  " I don't know if our viewers are feeling this," he said, "but here in the studio, we're  feeling a shaking, sort of like you might feel with an earthquake..."

At that moment, I quietly hit a foot pedal switch that controlled a small electric motor I had put under the sofa.  I had placed an off-center flywheel on the motor and attached it to a leg of the sofa, so vibrations would be carried to the seats.

"This is it," screamed Dubs.  "This is it!"

The news anchor continued, "We're told that a mysterious crystal skull in Guatemala, Central America, has been speaking in Spanish to news people there and said that the end of the world could have been avoided by a simple sincere toast against the end of the  world.  And we're told that the one man in the world who could have made that toast lives right here in our own hometown....  Okay,  this just in Paris, France, now gone along with Moscow, Berlin, and Geneva.

A museum curator holds the mysterious Crystal Skull.

I hit the foot pedal again, and the sofa moved again. 

"Those vibrations in  the studio getting stronger now," said Rob Coleman.  "As I way saying earlier, I seems that a local man named Doobes McCloosky may be responsible for the end of  the world.  We have a remote truck out now to interview Mr. McCloosky if we can find him in time, to get his side of the story."

"Noooo... nooooo...nooooo," Dubs was in tears.  "Against the end of the world," he yelled and took a gulp of whiskey.  "A most sincere toast," he screamed, "against the end of the world."

Just then there was a knock at my door.  I got up to answer it.

At the door stood newswoman Sandra Boskey, and a man with a TV camera on his shoulder.  The  light on top of the camera was bright in my face.  

Sandra Boskey with Action Witness News she yelled while holding out a microphone.

I moved aside and let her in.

"Are you Doobes McCloosky?" she asked.

"No, he is," I pointed.

Dubs was in a panic, just screaming, "Against the end of  the world."  He would then take another  drink, the repeat the process.

Rob Coleman continued speaking on  TV.  "Apparently the skull is saying that there's still time for the end of the world to be averted --- yes, this sounds wild --- but that one sincere toast against the end of the world by this Mr. McCloosky would create a time warp, and none of this would have ever happened...."

"Put down the camera, put down the the microphone," Dubs insisted.  "I promise, I'll give you an interview, but first we're all going to toast against the end of the world."  He quickly filled two more glasses and handed them to the news crew.  

Dubs was calm now.  "Gather 'round,"  he said, "everyone sips when I do,  Raise your glasses and repeat after me"....

"Probably not long left now," said the anchorman.

With all the glasses raised, Dubs said, "to the skull, and most sincerely against the end of the world."

Everyone took a sip as Dubs gulped down a big measure.

Apparently I had timed everything well.  The TV screen went blank with static for a moment.  Then Rob Coleman was back, looking cheerful and relaxed.  "It appears the Mayan apocalypse is just another doomsday story," said the anchorman.  We'll all be telling our children about waiting for the end of the world on a day that turned out to be like any other day...."

"Well, thanks for inviting us in for a whiskey," said Sandra Boskey, "but I can't really remember why we're here."

"Funny, me neither," said the news cameraman.  "And thanks for the drink, but we probably shouldn't be drinking while on the job."

"It worked," Dubs said in disbelief.  "I saved the world.  I saved the world with a sincere toast to the skull."

"What are you talking about, Dubs?" I asked.  "I mean you didn't really think the end  of the world was here did you.?"

"Huh?," he said, "you don't remember, either...  And Paris, and Rome and London are all still there?"

I switched off  the TV because it was reaching the end of the production.  "What do you mean, Dubs?  Why wouldn't they still be there?"

Just then my wife came back in the door.

"I saved the world, Maria.  I really did!  I really did!"   Dubs looked intently at her.

Maria looked at me and said, "You're mean!"  She then walked away.

" Why's she upset?" asked Dubs. He then smiled. "Take a picture of me Tom," he said.  "I'm the only one who will know why, but we have to document this moment."

I lifted my camera and photographed Dubs standing proudly with the glass of Scotch in hand, as if he were making a most sincere toast.

You can view my website at:  tombellart.com.

The Mayan End of the World: The Perfect Subject for Photography and a Drink

My best friend, Dubs McClusky was at the house the other day.  Dubs is really more than a friend: he's a confidant, someone I can trust with my darkest secrets (he thinks a dark secret is one you tell at night); he's someone who will keep refilling his glass with my most expensive single malt whiskey without feeling the need to ask for permission about something so trifling.  I've known Dubs for more than twenty years, and if nothing else he's consistent (especially with my single malt).  Not being a photographer himself, he always tries to say something nice about my work, despite the fact that there's not an artistic bone in his body.

"I love your pictures, but they would look so much better in color.  You know, color pictures are just so much more colorful."

 

Worshiping the Maximon by Tom Bell.  Copyright 2012.  All rights reserved.  The Maximon embodies Mayan mysticism.  By the way, this one's in color for Dubs.

"It's a matter of preference, Dubs.  Some people really love black and white images."

"I know, but they stopped making movies in black and white because people like 'em in color more."  He poured another glass and looked silently pass me for far too long.

"Something wrong, Dubs?"

"I'm worried, Tom," he lamented.  "They're saying the end of the world's only a month away."  He took a big gulp and stared deeply into his glass. "You know about that Mayan end-of-the-world stuff, don't you?  I mean your wife is from Guatemala and speaks Spanish and stuff."

"Right, Dubs.  I also have some friends who are archaeologists.  They say there's nothing to worry about."

I saw a glimmer of hope in Dubs' eyes.  "You know I saw a Three Stooges where the guys were archaeologists.  They found Rootin' Tootin's mummy."  He smiled deeply as his thoughts went back to the movie short of long ago.

"That was in black and white, by the way," I noted.

Magic by Tom Bell.  Copyright 2012.  All rights reserved.  

He nodded, as if I had revealed something important, then he was lost again. "The world can't end before Christmas.  What about the presents!  This Mayan stuff is serious business!  By the way, there's just a little left in the bottle; you don't want any do you?"

I picked up the bottle and poured the rest into his glass.

"You should keep this 15 year old Scotch all the time," he noted.  "Its really good."

"I bet."

"But what if it really is the end of the world?  What then!"

"Well, Dubs, I'm really looking forward to it.  If it's really the end of the world, it's the best event a photographer could hope for."

"What do you mean?"  The confusion on his face intensified.

"Can you imagine having something like that to photograph?," I asked.  "Every photographer in the world will be looking for the best angle, that fine art shot that defines the moment!  It's going to be something great!"

"Huh?"

"Mine will be in black and white!"

"But you said those archaeologists say there's nothing to it."  Dubs was almost in tears.

"What do they know?" I said.

"Really?  But.... you said...."

"I know what I said.  But this is it, Dubs.  My wife told me not to tell you.  But this is it..."

His eyes were huge. "Noooo.  You're just playin' with me aren't you."

"Sorry, Dubs."

Silence.  Dropped jaw. Owl eyes.

"Listen, Dubs, if I were you, I'd enjoy it since there's nothing we can do. Why don't you buy a case of this single malt. Make it a couple of cases and you'll get a discount.  Since you won't have to pay it back, use your credit card and buy a  couple of cases of the 18 year old stock.  I can store it and we can drink to the end of the world anytime you want.  We'll show those archaeologists!"

His mouth was still agape.

I wasn't sure if I should slap him slightly, but I decided to speak instead.  "It's okay, Dubs.  I promise that the last photograph I take as the world ends will be of you."

"Okay," he said after a while. He hesitated, "...but would it be okay if you did it in color?"

You can view my website at: www.tombellart.com.