Finis

In a Quebecois suburb, a young man named Conrad wrote down his idea for a screenplay. It was the last new idea anyone could ever think of. He placed it in an envelope and was about to lick the stamp when the first waves of lassitude overcame him. He sat down.

The quiet spread, though no one knew why. Conrad's neighbors slowed, then stopped. Traffic became a trickle, until the highways were a parking lot. All across the world, everyone ceased their striving, their pursuit of endless goals.

They put everything down, folded their hands, and waited for the end.

Costume

“And what are you supposed to be?”

“I am the End,” said the little boy. “I am young now, fresh-faced and innocent. But sooner or later I will grow up. I will gain knowledge and wisdom, but also cynicism and bitterness. I will grow old. I will gather wrinkles with each disappointment, each failure. One day, I will look out at my world and see only broken dreams. At that moment, I will truly die, though my body may live on for months or years.”

There was an appalled silence.

“Okay, I’m a cowboy. Can I have some candy now?”