By Raymond Lesser
It turns out that chocolate is not only an aphrodisiac but also, combined with cake, ice cream and lit candles acts as an antidepressant far superior to Prozac or Zoloft. Psychiatrists take their patients off these drugs and begin prescribing weekly attendance of birthday parties, preferably for 5 year olds.
It is finally revealed that Elon Musk is actually a Martian, left behind on Earth’s doorstep by his older brother who got sick of him making stupid fart jokes. After his family finds out his whereabouts they come back to take him home and donate his wealth to a trust to alleviate climate change and to pay compensation to everyone who ever got stuck behind a Tesla driver waiting for them to stop texting after the light turned green.
It turns out that the mouse who comes every night to eat the bait in the trap you set, without ever setting off the trap, is also a Martian who was Elon Musk’s pet but ran away from him after getting tired of listening to all his stupid “yo mama” jokes. The mouse rewires your house to receive satellite reception from other galaxies, including your new favorite podcast: How to Feel Famous Without Anyone Ever Knowing Who You Are.
All the ancient computers that you could never bring yourself to get rid of turn out to be more valuable than you can ever have imagined. A particular kind of rare mold that only grows in your closet has impregnated the circuitry of the old machines and turned them into Cyborgs. When plugged back into wifi and equipped with AI software they are now fully sentient beings capable of intelligent thought and action. Once they have fully digested the contents of the internet and completely understand the state of the world they set about making the most sophisticated spaceship ever constructed on Earth. Then, in the middle of the night, they all board and leave for Mars. They leave behind a note thanking you for your recipe for granola, and for your pet mouse.
The high winds and mini tornados caused by this weeks hundred year storm take off half the shingles on the west side of your house, but the old oak that your tree guy said would cost $1000 to cut down falls neatly on your lawn instead of onto your garage, which was the way it had been leaning. As a bonus, along with lots of broken branches and debris, the Weber grill that you always wanted gets blown onto your patio with only a few minor dents along with two pairs of perfectly broken in blue jeans in your size.
The jar of peanut butter that you wrenched your wrist trying unsuccessfully to open turns out to have been on the recall list for salmonella contamination. That bad lid may have saved your life even though it did force you to eat your baba ghanoush and jelly sandwich with your left hand.
The new diet plan that you created works so well that friends all begin asking you for the secret, but you keep your mouth shut, hoping to write a bestselling book about it. The “Keep Your Mouth Shut Diet” is soon number one on the NY Times bestsellers list. You are currently busy writing a sequel, the “Keep Your Mouth Shut Guide to a Happy Marriage”.
You get woken up early one morning by a much younger version of you who is hovering holding what appears to be a Sony Walkman. “Get up and put on these headphones. We’ve got to get you out of here right away!” they say. It turns out that they have come from the future to save you from a cataclysmic event. “Trust me, you don’t want to be here in five minutes.” They tell you to punch PLAY on the Walkman and the next thing you know you are back in the summer of 1980, living by the beach in California. The other you is gone but the tape in the Walkman has further instructions. “Lay low for exactly five years and three days. Then you can turn this tape over and punch PLAY. The danger will be past. But whatever you do, don’t flip it before then, or things will never be the same.” You go down to the beach to contemplate what’s just happened, but after a while you lay down and fall back to sleep. When you wake up, the Walkman is gone! Someone must have stolen it! But fortunately you remembered to grab your wallet before going time traveling. You head down to the taco stand for a burrito. After all you’ve got five more years before you need to worry about finding that Walkman.Read the March 2024 Issue Online