"Sometimes I see flames and sometimes I see

"Sometimes I see flames and sometimes I see people that I love dying..." The jet black radio murmured as the static faded. "...and it feels like somebody was gripping my throat"

"It's OK" I replied into the walkie talkie. "It's just a dream." "No" he said. "These visions are real." I looked at the wall. The Doomsday Clock ticked off another minute. 11:56.

The flashing lights and klaxon did not help. What if he really did have visions? "OK, do what you need to do," I said. "Push to talk," he replied. The doomsday clock said 11:56:47.

The doomsday clock came with a lovely matching doomsday watch, doomsday hat, doomsday t-shirt and a limited edition gold plated doomsday pen. The doomsday pen

we shared in what small comfort we could get from the gifts. The end of the world had a macabre sense of rightness to it, one supposes, and the gifts were a way of avoiding it.

That's what Santa's attitude about Christmas was, he cuddled Mrs. Claus." "Don't worry dear, once the apocolypse happens, I can retire."

"I don't think I can wait," replied Mrs. Claus, pushing Santa away. "Why, that could be eons from now! No! I've made up my mind. I'm leaving you. I've met someone else!" Santa was

secretly asking himself who Martha was seeing. He might be able to spring the Santa Claus Clause of their prenuptual which stipulated that if Mrs. Claus had an affair with one

s imagination, it might end badly when that said person discovered she didn't exist, plus the elves had forgotten the recipe for making memory wipes. She sat on the pole instead.