With tensions continuing to rise at the campaign events of Donald J. Trump, the businessman will once again reveal his genius to you when he declares his remaining stump stops will be billed as “liberal versus conservative cage matches” with all proceeds going either to the Wounded Warrior Project or to Planned Parenthood. With everything and nothing on the line, you’ll sign up to take out your political frustrations in the Octagon during the campaign’s 15th stop in Mississippi next month.
You’ll pocket-dial your boss during a night on the town — a night in which you might have spent several hours complaining about your job to a friend. You’ll determine that at some point you maintained a connection for three minutes, more than enough time for voicemail to have capture the phrase “pencil-pushing, neck-bearded jackass.” Being afraid of direct confrontation, you’ll discreetly put your boss’ phone into the coffee maker the next morning and refuse to acknowledge any questions about it.
Inspired by the NCAA basketball tournament, your office will set up a round-robin paper football event. The competition will be for bragging rights and exclusive, secret use of the boss’ private bathroom. Disgruntled and competitive, you’ll enter the fray with one goal in mind: to make your boss think the office is haunted by leaving cryptic messages on the bathroom sink. You’ll come up short of your goal, though, when you sustain a paper cut and have to disqualify yourself.
All hell will break loose two weeks from next Wednesday when your local dodgeball league has its own “Purge” night. For one night only, all teams involved in the league will not have to abide by any of the written or unwritten rules of the fringe sport. Balls will literally be everywhere, even in the stands, as rowdy contestants will hit vulgar fans with the red rubber projectiles. Teammates will headbutt each other in anger and admissions to the Mobile Infirmary ER will spike. It’s one way to keep everything else civil.
After learning a college classmate might become the new principal at a local high school, you’ll think back to the hijinks you pulled together to shun authority figures back in the day. You’ll chuckle when you think your classmate will pay in spades for all the disruptions she caused the professor. You’ll also lament the fact that someone in your peer group is now an authority figure. The girl who once wore sunglasses to class to hide bloodshot eyes would now be advising students. Scary stuff.
You’ll return from a week’s vacation only to find the number of unread emails in your inbox so staggering that your only reaction is to set your office computer on fire. You’ll have quite a time trying to hide a small fire inside a standard cubicle, but you’ll buy precious time when you suggest to inquirers that “somebody may have just made another weird Lean Cuisine.” Ultimately, though, the fire will spread and, like your work emails, soon be too great to contain.
You’ll change your name to Nutterbutter Cookiefield in order to participate in next year’s Name of the Year competition promoted by nameoftheyear.com. You’ll find out, unfortunately, that it’s a stacked competition in 2017, with names like Magilla Gorilla Jones and TikTak Fishbreath. You’ll be eliminated from the tournament of 64 when you lose out to Puddin’ Ovaltine in the second round of competition. You’ll have had a good run, but won’t be satisfied. You’ll work harder to come up with a better name for 2018.
After having to enter a CAPTCHA several time in order to pay your credit card bill online, you’ll develop a genuine hatred for “robots” you’ve never actually seen proof of. “I’m a person!” you’ll scream angrily, to the concern of those near you. In response to what you see as a needless security measure, you’ll soon begin demanding that everyday electronics prove their intentions to you — something neither your toaster nor your washing machine will respond to immediately.
You’ll wake up from a 20-year coma and be shocked the country you love has devolved into a situation in which voters must choose between a wild-haired socialist, Bill Clinton’s wife, a Canadian and Donald Trump for president. The news Hollywood remade the classic film from your youth, “Point Break,” will cause further grief and you’ll wonder if life was better in the coma. An Alabama fan from birth, you’ll be relieved to hear that Auburn is still the worst at everything.
When a co-worker installs a weight bench in the break room, you’ll decide to renew the workout plan you quit in your late 20s. Seven years after selling your dumbbells in a yard sale to fund the purchase of a crib for an incoming baby, you’ll remember the real reason you stopped working out: the excruciating pain and intolerable sweat. The first workout on the break room bench leaves you miserable and smelly and you’ll quickly return to a daily cheeseburger lunch routine.
As the youth league baseball season begins, you’ll quickly move into first place in the race for the town’s Fence Dad of the Year award. With little experience playing baseball and a general lack of of sports knowledge, you’ll stand at the fence and fiercely yell for your son to “play some baseball” and “beat the other team.” Following your example, other parents join in and before long everyone will proudly yell their own version of “win the game” to the embarrassed youngsters.
Finally paying off your loan from education lender Sallie Mae, you’ll dedicate your life to finding her and getting that money back. However, because you obtained your degree through the University of Phoenix online, it will take some time for you to discover Sallie isn’t a woman your mom was friends with at all and is, in fact, a large corporation that handles loans all over the world. Undeterred, you’ll go downtown and start throwing arbitrary punches at any businessmen you see while screaming “I’m a Phoenix!”
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