We’re celebrating the fifth anniversary of Dr. Sketchy’s with apocalyptic flash fiction. Sydney T. Bernstein tells a tale from beyond apocalypse, a vision where ghastly spectres dance and pose and people pay for the privilege of watching, an image pleasing to the lugubrious Dr. Sketchy... The Last Sketchyblog      I was there at the beginning, you know. So much has changed over the years, and yet we endure. When the Lucky Cat closed, there were those who were skeptical that Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School could last. When the Slipper Room closed for renovations, there were those who said that the then homeless Dr. Sketchy would not be around for much longer. When Manhattan was evacuated, there was no shortage of doubters who said that Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School would go the way of so many of our cherished institutions. Even now, though, John is selecting the music for this week’s session and Melissa is decorating Aradia Ardor’s skull to suit this week’s theme.      It’s like Molly always said, we’ll be around so long as we’re still profitable. Naked women are popular regardless of the political climate and audiences love our tributes to French theater and Russian literature since our shows remind them of when there were such places as France and Russia. Naturally, we had to lower ticket prices after the government dissolved and people stopped accepting currency. I don’t even know what people are exchanging these days as I could never keep up with you damn kids and your stupid fucking trends.      As for me, I live on Molly’s collective where I hold the rank of “ottoman.” The only trade involved in my life is her providing for our needs in exchange for us catering to her whims, which is the best plan for an economy I have ever heard. It’s amazing the way her following has swelled the more hopeless people have been searching for any sort of meaning in their lives. It kind of gives me the creeps, the religious fervour with which the new recruits regard her. It also makes people of a certain disposition nervous in these days when the word “Apocalypse” is on so many lips. Still, this is nothing new – there have been false prophets for as long as there have been prophets. It’s not like Molly’s going to be declaring war on Heaven any time soon.      All this talk about the Apocalypse has become tedious if you ask me. If these really are the end times, then Eliot was right about how the world would end, as I knew he would be. There was no mass ascension of Christians. If there was, it was such a small proportion of them that nobody even noticed. There were no armies of the undead. When Eve and Steve and Alia and Ryan died, they stayed dead. People always overreact to catastrophes, like when the sun went out and everyone thought it was time for Armageddon, but then Supergirl still ran for seven years after that. I know a thing or two about Apocalypses. My world already ended when Louise Post got married and nowadays I laugh at atom bombs. Besides, I know Molly still has fifty years left in her, and this world isn’t going to end until she’s ready for it. Sydney T. Bernstein is the writer of Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art Blog and anything you want to know about him you should ask him in person the next time you see him. Want to join this cavalcade of flesh-eating fun? Send your short apocalyptic fiction, a one-sentence bio, and any impertinent links to .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) by December 7, 2010.