Or How I Spent the End of this Aeon
The elevator 'DING'ed, the doors began to open, and I was bathed in the warm glow of digital- fluorescence. The gentle humming of ten thousand portable digicams all simultaneously capturing my arrival soothed my soul. These cams all zapped my super-sexual visage to the teeming masses, who nail-bitingly sat with baited breath, slumped over monitors, salivating at the merest hint of my ungodly appearance. I was wearing my RockStarSelf™, complete with my retro-MourningBlue™ mohawk, and matching FauxFur jacket. The kids love it. I was using Pose 17, a personal favorite, as it was the one I used on my first Rolling Stone cover. The shimmering elevator doors were dramatically pulling back to reveal the top floor of New York's Kirby Convention Centre. (I purposely had them slow the gears of the doors down so as to tease my fans to a near orgasmic state. I like to start strong and go from there.) This was my twenty third convention appearance of the season and I still got that raging hard-on I always get when making my entrance. I always wondered where I'd be when it all came down. And here I was, the night of December 20th, 2012 at the fifth annual NYC Comicbook Convention. Twelve hours to Doomsday!
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