Drink to the End of the World

Here's to the end of the human race! It's lucky I had an old bottle of martini in the trunk. You know, I can't remember when I put it in there, or even who it belongs to... Oh, hell. It doesn't matter. Humanity is finished, and I missed the only submarine ride out of Nalcott Island by 5 little minutes. Of course, even if I'd caught my ride, it wouldn't have made a difference. Not long after that submarine set sail, a stinking great behemoth swooped down out of the sky and into the ocean. That particular nightmare had been assigned the observation number Deviation-0681, and can swallow an adult sperm whale whole. Anyway, the dirty great thing fished the submarine back out of the water, and is currently chewing it up into iron froth before my very eyes. It looks so feeble, like a helpless cuttlefish caught in an albatross's beak. The sun is setting, and I can see thick, billowing smoke standing out black against the crimson sky. From this distance, it really is a magnificent sight. We are history's eternal sinners. This looks like the end of human history. So, I drink! Drink! Before the Deviants in the sky find me. I don't want to die sober.