2020 is Dead. Long Live 2020

You sit with half a bottle of champagne at your solo, quarantined New Year’s party. Soon it will be time to end this God forsaken year. The TV illuminates the dark room as the ball begins to drop. 

10…

Goodbye, 2020. Rot in hell. 

9…

Finally, we can move on. 

8…

Things will eventually go back to normal. 

7…

Next year, this will be a real New Year’s party. 

6…

Remember gatherings? Those will come back. 

5…

It’s weird to think that one day we won’t have to wear masks. 

4…

Holy shit. The fires in Australia was THIS year. 

3…

This is the first New Years that REALLY means starting over. 

2…

That’s it! No more 2020!

1…

Wait. Something’s wrong. The ball reached the bottom, but there wasn’t a giant 2021 sign. The lights spelled out…2020. What a perfect end to a perfect year. Someone messed up the New Year’s celebration. Figures. That tracks with the rest of this wretched year. It wouldn’t be 2020 if things didn’t go bad at the end. 

Your phone chirps. Here come the mass texts! You glance down at it. It’s your sister. She texts, “Happy 2020!” Before you can text back you get another message from your coworker. “Here’s to 2020!” More and more texts pour in. All of them…every single one keeps mentioning 2020, but not in a “go to hell” way. 

Switching from messages to the calendar app, your stomach sinks. It’s right there. January 1st, 2020. 

You race to the Far Side daily calendar that your mother got you for Christmas. Tearing the box to shreds, you almost vomit the cocktail franks you were eating minutes ago. Christmas morning, it was a 2021 calendar; now in large Gary Larson handwriting you only see 2020. 

A slow sickening feeling comes over you as you realize the horrible truth. 2020 doesn’t end at midnight, it only restarts.