What do you do when the sun stops working?


Unload all your stock in Coppertone.

Switch to the back up.

Put your sundial in the basement, next to your Ray-bans.

Teach your plants 'lunasynthesis'. Prepare for life as a fungivore.

Get out the jumper cables.

Freeze to death.

I sure as hell ain't crossing the picket line.

Get real cold and die after awhile. Not a very pleasant thought, is it?

Gather firewood.

False, a yellow solid.

Nothing, for about eight minutes.

Is that rhetoric?

You sprinkle powder on a zuccini, make an S, cross it out, tap once on each shoulder, and it will lead you to the crime, er, criminal.

Sit back and watch the show. If I'm still around then, I won't be in any shape to depend on it for anything.

Buy every tanning-booth business in the country and liquidate my Coppertone stock.

At most you will have 3 days to eat all the chocolate you ever wanted, phone loved ones one last time, bundle up and lay in a heavy supply of something to end your life as an alternative to freezing.

Make tea inside.

Kick back, pop open an ice-cold beer, and call it a day.

Say "DOE!"

Depends. If it was fired, I'd apply for the position (pay has to be better than what I'm making now). If it simply quit for the day, then I'd wake from my slumber in the earth of my homeland, and begin my nightly pursuit of human blood. If it stopped because the economy could no longer support it, I'd reflect on the recession.

Throw away your hourglasses and sun tan lotion. PUNT!

Call in the scabs or raise its wages and benefits.

Go inside.

Don't panic.

Copyright © 1991-1998 by Pete Magsig