Here's the next part of my 60-word sentence story.

The band played on but I was in no mood for frenetic frivolity as I furiously stomped away from those frantic fools infatuated with the flugelhorn-playing fop tooting like tomorrow was never going to arrive and we could continue to frolic in the fatuous style of fulsome lasses let loose upon a hapless world of binge-dancing and sloe gin fizzes.

Didn’t they know that the Four Horsemen were approaching and our way of life was teetering precariously on the precipice of destruction and doom? Life isn’t just about fun and frivolity; someone has to be aware that an immense danger to our way of life lurks in the shadows and hidden corners of our foolish society.

I am that someone. No, I don’t look all that impressive and I can’t leap tall buildings at a single bound but underneath this mild-mannered exterior resides a Hero. I see things no one else sees, I hear things that go unheard in the public venue, and I sense things that those intent on pursuing mindless activity cannot sense.

But back to the band and the fools dancing and drinking. They were celebrating the end of the year when they should have been planning for the end of the world. All the signs were in place and anyone with the teensiest bit of sense could tell that disaster was not far down the road; in fact, it was actually within sight. Sense, however, was no longer in vogue and hadn’t been for some time. Probably disappeared forever about the time of the World Trade Center disaster – 9/11/2001. The date was significant but no one had figured it out but me. Add all the digits together and what do you get? 2021. That would be the year it all happened. And the year end they were celebrating was 2020.

So how did I know that adding all those numbers together was what one had to do to arrive at the date the world would end? I don’t know but it was apparent, that’s all I can say. As far as the actual day, I wasn’t sure – it could be September 11th, or it could be November 9th depending on whether the 9/11 was month/day or day/month. See, I told you those numbers were significant!

However, common sense, again, dictated that it would be one or the other of those 2 days. So, I had either 8 months and 10 days to save the world or 10 months and 8 days to save it. I was secretly hoping for 11/9 but I was fearful that it was more likely to be 9/11. 9/11/2021 would be a Saturday and 11/9/2021 would be a Tuesday… hmm, which of those was the more significant? Aha! It had to be Tuesday – after all, the word Tuesday comes from the Old English Tiwesdaeg and the Middle English Tewesday both of which translated from the Latin dies Martis or MARS! The god of War! How appropriate – the world was going to end in a massive war.

Hold on just a minute, hoss. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions – I should think about the possibility of it being Saturday. So, the word Saturday comes from the Roman god Saturn who was the god of agriculture and harvest. Therefore, it could still be 9/11 since there would undoubtedly be a harvesting of souls when the earth was destroyed. And, perhaps the harvest was going to have something to do with food – a pandemic caused by the outbreak of some hitherto unknown fungus or spores developing on the food supply! Oh, how devious it was all getting to be.

Well, regardless of whether I had 8 ½ months or 10 ½ months, I needed to get busy – I didn’t know how the earth would be destroyed so how could I stop it? Obviously I needed more information. And I knew just where to get it.

With a certain degree of disdain, I looked back at the festivities one more time before I left. Fools, I thought, they’re just fools. Too bad my girl friend Rosetta was part of that crowd – I was gonna miss her. Still, sacrifices had to be made, so I resolutely turned my face away and started the lonely trek away from the party. I hadn’t been having a good time, anyway, since I can’t dance and alcohol turns my skin a crimson red with yellow splotches – some kind of allergic reaction the doctors said. Rosetta, on the other hand, loved to dance and could drink almost anyone under the table. I have seen her drink a full quart of tequila in a night of partying and still get up at 7:00 to go bear hunting. Tough, tough girl, that one.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too far to 34th and Vine – that’s where I would find out the rest of what I needed to know. There’s a certain gypsy that lives there – Madame Rue. She looks a little odd with that gold-capped tooth but I’ve tried her products before and they work. Hey, how did you think I would get a sweet gal like Rosetta without Madame Rue’s help? That little potion she mixed up in the sink worked wonders for my love life.

Now, though, I needed to think about how best to approach Madame Rue. If she was aware that I was trying to find out things like how the world would end, she might charge me more money than I could afford. After all, my government stipend would only cover so much. I know, I know – I’m supposed to be happy with my government dole but sometimes I think that it might be better to get a real job. Gosh, I hope my case worker doesn’t read this – I’d be in real trouble with him. He might have me assigned to the Obama Youth Brigade and those are some real hard-core, scary folks. Gives me the shivers to think about it.

In less than 10 minutes, I was at Madame Rue’s but she was closed. Gosh, what had I been thinking – it was a quarter after midnight on January the 1st! I just shook my head and started to turn away when I noticed that the door to her pad was slightly ajar. I know, I know… one is not supposed to break into someone else’s house but the door was open and it wasn’t like she didn’t know me.