The well-known genius Kirk Cameron was preparing for the Apocalyptic event that he knew would be occurring on Saturday, May 21, 2011. He had his suit pressed so that he would get to heaven looking sharp, and he bought some healthy snacks like some mixed nuts and some fruit and a Vita Coco just in case the Rapture took a little longer than he anticipated. The way he figured, he and his family would get up early–if they could even sleep, they’d probably be so excited–and head up to the roof with a beach blanket and a transistor radio so they could watch the whole shebang. What a show! Best seats in the house! (He actually said stuff like this at the dinner table and while he and his wife were flossing at their his and hers sinks at night. She would smile and laugh and found it charming. She married him after all.) And then, poof! They would all be in heaven, and all of the other stupid cretins and also Jews would spend an eternity in hell.
Kirk Cameron was a very smart genius and he would debate anyone on just about any topic and he knew that he had the smarts to back it up with his giant brain and his deep repository of John Lennon lyrics to cite at random.
In the hallway of Kirk Cameron’s house, which was more of a scientific laboratory, and a graduate library than a home, what with all the smart stuff that was going on in there all the time, were framed diplomas from MENSA and all the colleges and stuff. He had, like, a million certificates for being the smartest, and some of them even had ribbons on them, because he’d won prizes for it. For being so smart. He was incredible.
“Something about the bible,” Kirk Cameron said.
He went on FOX News and complained about everything.
Everyone, of course, is entitled to their beliefs, but still! And on Sunday, May 22nd, 2011, Kirk Cameron, the genius, was driven to the hospital by his wife after suffering from severe exposure due to spending more than 36 hours on his roof with very little to eat or drink (the Vita Coco was only 12oz). His face was red and blistery and his tongue was swollen in his mouth and he had messed himself. When she had found him this way–the rest of the family had returned inside for a proper meal and some videogames and crotchet and whatever hours earlier–he insisted that he be allowed to stay because he “didn’t want to miss it.” His wife put her hands on her hips. “Let’s go, Einstein,” she said.
During the three days Kirk Cameron had to stay in the hospital, IV drips all in his arms, staring out the window hoping to see Christian souls ascending to heaven, all the doctors called him “Smartypants.”