THE APOCALYPSE Voucher’s precise location is hazy, as are specific details about it. Doesn’t matter. You can’t apply conventional logic. The ones who’ll take charge at the end won’t play that. There will be a knock at the door and a demand like: “We understand you purchased a Number 8 Combo from Popeye’s Chicken on November 7th, 2003.” It’s all arranged and cataloged. Every vital document is there. “Give me minute,” he’ll answer. A short time later he’ll hand it to them. “Here! Here’s the receipt!” Everybody calls him a hoarder. But when the shit comes down, he’ll be ready.

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