[ WP ] The apocalypse has begun . Not through mass destruction , but through everyone on earth encountering fatal `` accidents '' , one by one .

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 It was n't real until he called me. My father, in his intensity and wisdom, his unending cynicism, whispered pathetically that my mother had `` fallen down the stairs''. I laughed. It was clearly a joke - I mean, what could be a more cliche thing to say. I told him that it was n't funny to joke like that, but he did n't laugh. His voice did n't change. His breath did n't catch. The phone was silent static. `` It's... spreading?'' 
 
 *** 
 
 In Florida, the news called it `` The Clumsy Killer''. Everyone thought there was no way all these people were just dying by weird coincidence; guy drowns in his own bathtub, chick falls asleep in her garage, couple of kids, I mean, young kids, ride their bikes straight off a cliff. At first, people all turned on each other, like people do. Said it was a string of suicides just in the Miami area. But it was n't till the kids, who lived in the Pensacola area, that folks started to wig out. 27 deaths in two weeks, according to the news, and no one was even sure if they were all connected or what. But the news needs a story, so they claimed one person was responsible, kinda like some complex crazy Sherlock Holmes style case where this guy was driving around and killing people in inconspicuous ways that just made them look like jackasses. `` The Clumsy Killer''. Me and my buddies, ya see, we pick up the trash in Orlando. And I have to say, trash tells you a lot about the person who created it. Boy did we have a spike in drinking once this shit started going down. But me personally? I think it's crap. It's the media blowing things outta proportion, that's what's happening. You read about some dame dying and suddenly 10 people die. Why? Because you planted that thought in their heads. Worry is what kills people. 
 
 *** 
 
 I put down the phone and touched my wrist. The delicate strand of silver that caressed my skin, given to me by my mother, felt cold now. Everyone in Atlanta had heard about `` The Clumsy Killer,'' or whatever he was being called these days. I was horrified, living just close enough to the border to give me panic, but I had n't thought my mother was in danger in Texas. There was true tensity in the voices of the hosts of NPR each morning, as they continued to warn their listeners not to overplay what was happening, as that behavior has encouraged copycats in the past. How could a man have gotten into my parent's home to push my mother down the stairs? My father, the enormous intimidating former rugby player would've snapped the neck of anyone he thought would hurt his wife. How could this have happened to me? 
 
 *** 
 
 My name is David. I am 11 years old. I have two hamsters named Bob and Fred. My best friend is named Joe. I live in Charleston, South Carolina on Lee Street. On Saturday, my mom went to be with Jesus. When she was hanging up our Christmas lights she fell down. The lights caught her and she could n't breathe anymore. Now I live with just my dad and the hamsters. My doctor is named Dr. Pace. Dr. Pace likes when I write in my journal. I like to play kickball with Joe. I miss my mom. 
 
 *** 
 
 The worry, it's killing everyone, I tell you that. 27 in two weeks, ha, seems like a blip. Last week there were 48 and counting, all over the southeast US. One of my buddies reads those `` international real truth'' news sites, and he says other countries got the same thing going down. Says in Africa, people are just getting eaten by animals day and night, like they're going out unarmed from the smaller villages, acting mighty freaky. England had to totally shut down their subway on account of so many people falling in and getting crushed or electrocuted or whatever. But I got ta tell you, me and my buddies, we're just fine. Taking in a cold brew each night, watching the game, just staying calm is saving our lives. 
 
 *** 
 
 The funeral was completely tasteful, but I did n't understand why a single policeperson had yet to speak to us. It was like the Austin authorities believed my mom had truly just tripped and fallen. Three more cases in Austin just over the weekend - all children choking to death on leftover Halloween candy they had hidden. They were triplets. God, the family must be crushed. NPR was at a loss for what to say, but they talked more than ever. But no opinions, no suggestions, simply reports cropping up all over the US and internationally. This could n't be a string of copycats. It just could n't. It had to be some kind of organized terrorism force or something. I stroked my silver bracelet and wished I could speak to my mother, have her reassure me as she always had. I needed her strength, her guidance. I had only my father and brother now, both silent, these sturdy creatures completely fractured and unable to cope. 
 
 *** 
 
 One of my hamsters ate my other hamster. Now I have only one hamster. I was really sad so my dad bought me a cool snake. My snake's name is Rex. Rex is cool and his skin is really cold. Dad said I ca n't take Rex out to play when also I'm playing with Bob, cus then Rex would eat Bob. Rex is a python snake. I do n't know if there's kinds of hamsters, but if there is, Bob is the coolest kind. Even though he likes eating other hamsters. 
 
 *** 
 
 I'm stressing out. I said it, there, I'm stressed. Not because I think it's some kind of end of days crap, but because of what happened today on my route. Charlie was driving and I was loading, and I should've noticed something was up but I just wanted to get through the day. I just picked up the can, it was heavy but so are most these days, filled up with pizza boxes and beer bottles on account of no one recycles anymore, and just tossed it in. I did n't hear anything at all, but I saw it, I saw it probably a second too late. Just this little foot, tiny little toes, the hem of some kind of pajamas around his ankle. I turned everything off, I hollered for Charlie, I hollered for God but I knew it was over. The parents tore out of the house like it was on fire, screaming for `` Justin'', who I guess it took them a while to realize was gone. Cops say he had just climbed in the bottom of the can and threw a bag on top of him. His folks had been really lighting each other up about whether or not to get out of the country and Justin had just snuck out. He was eight years old, and I crushed him to death with a trash compactor. I did that. It was just an accident.
