“I dunno, mate.” Julian watched the bodies floating up into the sky. “I’m pretty sure this is the rapture.”

“…fuck.”

In a concerted effort to avoid being one of those irritatingly over-excited types I’d resigned myself to a life full of understated appreciation instead. I would save my excitement for when it really mattered. Yet here I stood, existence crumbling around me, unable to muster more than a half-hearted four-letter expletive.

“Not necessarily,” I finally added, “maybe it’s an alien invasion.”

“Ha!” That short, sharp laugh I used to find so attractive. “Don’t be stupid. What use do aliens have picking up idiots from Port Talbot? The idea that a race of super-intelligent extra-terrestrial beings would choose this dump for their nefarious scheming is absurd. Fucking laughable. No, this is definitely the rapture.”

I hated it when he was right. But he was right, and all we could do now was wait for the inevitable. I wondered what it was like on the other side. I wondered what Julian thought of the other side. And then I wondered why we hadn’t started rising yet. Would we even make it to the other side?

“We’re good p…what’s that?” I caught him putting his hand into his pocket surreptitiously. “Julian?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Julian.”

Sheepishly, he pulled out three-quarters of a potato waffle.

“In case I got hungry.”

“It’s the fucking rapture, Julian!”

“And that makes me hungry!” He held it out to my mouth, invitingly.

“No. Thank you. What else did you bring?”

“That’s all. You?”

I fished through my jacket pockets and pulled out a ticket stub.

“I went to see A Christmas Carol last week.”

“Ooh! Michael Caine?”

“Tim Curry.”

“Oh. Oh well, never mind, eh?”

“We’re good people, aren’t we, Julian?”

Before he could answer, next door’s slated roof disintegrated and Mrs Louvna began her journey to the heavens, sobbing uncontrollably and clutching a portable sewing machine in her heavy-set arms.

“She loves that Singer.”

“They won’t allow that up there.”

“Why not?”

“It’s all holographic, surely. Material goods mean nothing in the afterlife.”

“For someone who only found God fifteen minutes ago, you seem to know an awful lot about the rapture.”

“You have to stay informed.”

For the first time that morning, I smiled. I reached for Julian’s hand and clasped it in mine, his greasy fingers rubbing against my knuckles. As if on cue both of my feet lifted off the ground, and so did his. Julian turned to look at me, pure exultation on his face. I felt his grip tighten around mine and, together, we looked down at the shrinking speck of grey that used to be Port Talbot. As we looked back up, we spotted a rogue sewing machine hurtling back down to the ground. Julian nodded knowingly and broke into a whistle.

“Can you stop that, please?”

“But It’s The Muppets. You love The Muppets.”

“Good people don’t like The Muppets.”

“Good people don’t watch Tim Curry films.”

I hated it when he was right.