The war is going to start
when Trump gets confused and feels threatened because some other idiot let go of 99 MAGA balloons.
The impending threat
of nuclear annihilation has me questioning every decision I make.
For example,
do I really want the last song I hear to be Sister Christian by Night Ranger?
I’m not above
rocking out to this song,
just as I’m not above rocking out to,
say,
Heat of the Moment by Asia,
or,
Your Love by The Outfield.
But
time could be more of a precious commodity than I realize.
However,
I DO hope that if I ever happen upon a time machine and I show up in 1985, it’s blasting wherever I pop up in the future, preferably a mall parking lot at night where teenagers are leaning against cars.
*scratching back of neck*
Gosh,
I mean,
I don’t need to fly like,
Jet Blue or anything,
but I certainly can’t afford first class, so …
—emily duchaine
Flommist Emily Duchaine lives in the Pacific Northwest. She likes to drink mead, learn about sharks, and listen to the Talking Heads. She pretends to be a professional businesswoman most days. Copyright © 2017 Emily Duchaine.
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