It’s done. Over. Finiš.
The curtain closes. One door’s closed, the other’s about to open.
This just in: the final chapter’s read, the season’s ended. The next-in-the-series is about to be released.
The bell’s rung. Checkered flags have been waved.
This is the pause before the plunge. The storm’s calm prelude. The hurricane’s eye. Or was it the tiger’s?
The fat lady’s sung. The milk’s been spill’d.
The eddies are in the space time continuum.
There are snakes on the motherfuckin’ plane.