End of Meats

I found the end of My Year of Meats to be a little anti-climactic. I was expecting some kind of confrontation between John and the women, but instead it ended pretty abruptly. At the very least it would have been nice to find out what happened with the documentary.

Alternate Ending

Personally I liked the ending, but I suppose I could think of an entertaining alternate one. Sit back and enjoy.


They wrote away the night, filling the darkness with words until the first pink wash of dawn gathered strength on the far horizon. And still they continued. Page after page. Word after word after word.

Chapter Fifty-two

How to Be Miserable was a complete failure. After Tupak Soiree had denounced his divinity, new leaders of "The New Way" had begun to spring up all over the world. There was nothing that could be done to stop the spread. The United States was the first to fall, followed by Canada, Northern Europe, Japan, and slowly the rest of the world. Within five years there was nothing left of individual cultures. What I learned on the Mountain had spread like a wildfire across the surface of the world.

Edwin de Valu sat in the overwhelming heat of Jack's trailer. Jack had died shortly after the release of How to Be Miserable, and Edwin didn't know where else to flee to. The small, illiterate, backwater town of Paradise Flats had become a gathering place for those who did not subscribe to the teachings of Tupak Soiree and the New Way's leaders.

People came from all over the world to escape the plague of happiness™ as it swept through their homelands. Paradise Flats had filled with the angriest people you could imagine. From America to Argentina, France to Poland, Russia to Australia, even from South Africa, people slowly made their way to Paradise Flats to preserve their anger and hatred. Before long Paradise Flats had started to remind Edwin of life on Grand Avenue, with the yelling, pushing, screaming, and all around rudeness and carelessness of the people around him. Except for the heat, Edwin felt right at home.

"This is the way it is meant to be," Edwin mused. "People are meant to generate conflict with others for no reason whatsoever. This is what makes us human."

"Damn right," said Mr. Mead, who had followed Edwin to their new home after realizing that the world at large was coming to an end. "I'm sure that even Bob would agree with that."

Not too long ago, Edwin and Leon (he had dropped the accent from his name after years of debate with Edwin) had taken a gun to Mr. Ethic's head and done away with him. They just couldn't stand having him around once they no longer needed someone to ethically validate their unethical decisions.

"viver é lutar, para morrer é ser índice," said Edwin. "To live is to fight, to die is to be content."

Leon grunted his agreement and opened a new case of Southern Comfort.

"I don't often agree with you, but you've definitely got..." Leon stopped mid-sentence.

"I hear it too," said Edwin warily, already on his feet.

Silence.

Edwin grabbed his gun and slowly made his way to the door of the trailer. He was sweating profusely, but it had nothing to do with the heat. He took a deep breath and kicked the door open, just like he had always seen in movies.

Leon ran to the door as he saw the blood drain from Edwin's face. The two of them stood there, eyes wide and jaws hanging, not wanting to believe what they saw. Surely it had to be a trick of the desert. They were hallucinating. They had to be sharing the same hallucination. It could happen. Couldn't it?

One of the men from the town, a particularly distasteful man at that, was standing outside the trailer. His eyes were vacant and a soft smile was spreading across his face. The man held out his hand to Edwin and Leon, smiling wider as his hand moved nearer and slowly opened.

Two daisies.

Edwin nearly screamed with terror as he realized what had happened. It was finally here. After five years the world had closed in around them. There was no more running. The last angry place in the world was now flooding with happiness™ and there was nothing they could do about it. Well, almost nothing.

Edwin shot the man in the head.

"A well stated sentiment," Leon said. "But we can't kill everyone in the world. It's over."

Edwin turned to Leon and shrugged. "I suppose not, but it sure as hell felt good. I imagine this will too."

Edwin shot Leon in the head.

"What more is there to lose?" Edwin said to his dead friend. "I sure hope you would rather die human than to live as they do... then again if you wouldn't I suppose it's too late anyway."

Edwin turned and looked out at the desert. With a primal shout, one that would never again be heard in a land devoid of echoes, he turned the gun on himself.