Doo be doo be doo…just another day of wandering through the mall, fishing for soccer moms. Whenever one gets close, I start beatboxing and twerking. 90% of the time, I earn a few singles which get stuffed into my booty shorts. It ain’t my dream job (raising dinosaurs) but it’s still fun as hell.
A twenty-something year old lady walks up to me with a clipboard. She innocently asks, “Would you like to take a survey?”
Not really, but seeing as I have nothing else to do, I shrug and accept. I go down the list, checking off boxes. Do I like cartoons? Yes. Do I like exercise? Yes. Have I eaten a burrito? Check. Oh man, super burrito from Gordito’s with both green AND red sauce? Jesus in a Voltron, put some extra guac on it and—
The survey-taker is snarling in rage cups her hands around her mouth and screams, “THIS CULTURAL APPROPRIATOR EATS BURRITOS, EVEN THOUGH HE’S NOT MEXICAN! MOTHERFUCKER’S AN ALT-RIGHT NAZI!”
A wave of snarling faces condenses all across the mall’s escalators, food court, and walkways. People come surging at me, clawing the air, ready to rip my fucking nuts off. Holy SHIT!
I start doing my best (admittedly shitty) imitation of parkour aficionado David Belle, leaping over banisters and tables as a bunch of politically charged zombies come running at me. After I dive over a set of tables and roll to my feet, a clean-cut dude rushes up to me, with a seemingly rational expression and a clipboard in his hand.
“Quick!” he says. “Take this survey! If you answer right, we’ll help you escape!”
I snatch the clipboard from him and start penciling in answers. Do I like the beach? Yes. Do I have a computer? Yes. Do I have gay friends? Yes. I knew plenty of gay people in the service who did a damn good job and—
The dude cups his mouth with his hands and hollers, “THIS GUY LOVES GAY PEOPLE; HE’S A LEFT-WING COMMIE! LOCK AND LOAD—YOU ARE WEAPONS FREE!”
People with rifles pop up all across the mall, cutting loose with full auto. Chintzy mall fixtures explode around me, showering the air with plastic fragments. I keep sprinting, covering my head with my hands as best as possible. Rounds spark near my feet, kicking up angry clouds of broken linoleum.
No options left. I reach in my pocket and open my eReader to Echo, activating its reality distortion powers. Magic flash.
Soccer mom commandos bust through the skylight, sailing down on tactical rappel-lines. Four of them surround me in a diamond formation, bustling me forward while firing submachine guns. A dozen more get behind cover and set up a base of fire. They mow through politicized idiots with surefire precision, aggressing forward in leaps and bounds, grabbing position and high ground in a swift, professional manner.
The team leader who’s shepherding me hits a jam in her submachine gun and she switches to her Glock, blasting the face off a pink-haired social justice warrior, then an Ayn-Rand worshipping Crossfit bro. “GET THIS MAN WHORE TO SAFETY!” she yells to her badass teammates. “HIS LUSCIOUS PENIS IS THE KEY TO OUR FUTURES!”
Huh. I always hoped that critical thinking and evidence-based assessment would eventually solve our political differences.
Who knew it could be my girthy hog? 😀
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