Notice: The Sky has not Fallen on our Heads.

The end of the day usually finds us FCN contributors huddled over our computers playing pac-man or chatting about our miserably failed love lives with people we've never met (presumably mass-murdering 50-year-old circus freaks). Last night was not one of those nights. The fact is, last night was special. The world nearly ended.

We know. We should have posted a warning to tell you to call your loved ones and say that one thing you had been putting off saying. But after extensive deliberation, we decided to keep quiet about doomsday and post an apology the day after. That seemed easiest.

Also, we didn't want to get too close to our computers. A friend of ours directed us to the following research:



We stared at the screen in stunned silence for a full thirty seconds after watching. Then we sprang into our Cloverfield Survival Plan (which doubles as an Asteroid Survival Plan in a pinch). The bulleted procedure is listed below. We followed it to the letter.

1) Get to the highest part of the building and look around.
2) Make a few wise cracks.
3) See something. If it is Cloverfield, it will be on the horizon obscured by buildings. If it is an Asteroid or a Nuke it will be in the sky. If it is Relatives, it will be on the road.
4) Person who was defamed most by the wise cracks says: "Did I tell you or did I tell you?"
5) Panic and run around for awhile.
6) Scramble, tripping, to the lowest part of the building.
7) Scream incoherently.
8) Person who was defamed least from the wise cracks says: "We can take this thing."
9) Any remaining person says: "Are you crazy?"
10) Run outside, preferably using the back door, preferably barefoot with shorts and a tacky t-shirt.
11) Stand in a circle facing out.
12) Wait until someone begins running in a random direction, at which point all others must shout: "Are you crazy? Come back!"
13) When the someone does not obey, the others must follow reluctantly, muttering grim prognostications.
14) Proceed in this direction until any noticeable event occurs. Examples include: a) Being stepped on by Cloverfield, b) being struck by an asteroid c) bumping into a Relatives, or d) getting lost.
15a) If the world has ended: post an apology on FCN.
15b) If the world has not yet ended: sprint in a different direction.
16) Find a place of ostensible cover. Gather in a loose group and pant frantically.
17) Propose a few hair-brained theories for the origin of the threat.
18) Dig a hole.
19) Get inside.
20) Fill it in.
21) Have everyone call their moms and let them know where they are and to call them if and when the crisis is over (how's that for a sentence?).
22) Wait.
23) Improvise from then on.

It worked perfectly. We ran upstairs and peered out the window. For a few moments, we said nothing. We made jokes at the expense of the anonymous contributor who found the video. Then we saw a red flashing light moving slowly toward us. Within moments, we were scrambling out of someone else's backyard pool yelling: "It's over! It's over!" The neighbors joined us because they had no common sense and/or like to play along and/or don't read FCN. All of us were barefoot (we scrupulously removed our socks on exiting the house in accordance with the plan).

Led by a neighbor, we ran out into the street and stood in a loose circle looking. The neighbor saw the light and pointed. We all squinted. Then the neighbor started running down the road. "Are you crazy?" One of us cried. "Come back!" But he was long gone.

"Must be the radiation from the thingie," I said. It passed as a wise crack. We followed the neighbor.

Then we heard a honking horn and a bright light lit up in front of us. We didn't stop to think. We ran, screaming incoherently. I dimly remember crashing through a window and over a couch on which people were sitting watching a movie and eating popcorn. Eventually we reached a city park and stopped, gasping for breath.

"There's only one thing left to do," I said. My fellow contributors, the neighbors, and the two dozen people who had joined us in our flight nodded in unanimous consent. We tore apart the monkey bars and used them to tear apart nearby cars, the pieces of which we used as shovels. We dug a nice big hole, then climbed in and pulled the dirt over us, using the monkey bars as breathing tubes. Then we called our moms, even though the reception was terrible. A few hours later, our moms talked us into coming back out and we went home, covered from head to toe with dirt and sweat.

Well, the world didn't end, so it was worth it. The plan worked.

You're welcome.