not exactly the rapture 

not exactly the rapture

the man's face cracked into a grin. "yeah, i get that a lot. i think it's the crippled deal. and the hair. makes people project angelic. name's boog."

"but... but... then how did you know my name?" mike stammered.

"it's embroidered right there on your jacket. hell of a uniform you got there. say, by the way, i'm a winter too. though for some reason i can't do purple. sydney?"

"yeah. guy's a fuckin' genuis. hey-- do you know where the hell everybody is? it's like empty around here. i mean i know it's early and all-- but i haven't seen anybody hardly all morning. gives me the creeps. that's why i said that, about the rapture. i know it sounded crazy-- but the empty
streets, then you coming out of nowhere--"

"nah, it wasn't nowhere. i was down at 'nena's house of beauty and terror'-- there's a big nude poetry reading mudfest happening-- quite a crowd, let me tell you. you never heard of it? sort of northwest burning man, but without all the fires, dehydration, and pachouli. i just took off to get some air."