I told my friend Uggums to pull over. He looked at the dash and said he needed gas, so the next time we found a town he'd stop at a gas station. I smiled at his naivety and reiterated my command. This was no request. This wasn't "when you have a moment would you mind pulling over?" This was "Stop the car now or we're about to pick up a sixth passenger that no one is going to enjoy." He looked in my eyes and he knew. And suddenly, as though Heaven itself had pierced the fog with a miracle, the cornfields gave way to a single building, lit bright against the dark night. A 24-hour truck stop/doughnut shop. Saints be praised.
It's like Heaven, except for shitting in public.
We pulled to a stop and I practically Dukes of Hazzarded my way from the car window, sprinting into the building. A handful of truckers and a waitress looked up at me. The waitress began to say something but my feet were already blazing a trail toward the promised land. I muttered something incoherent like, "Med the fritz," and barreled through the bathroom door and into a stall.
The events that followed need not be detailed with any great specificity. To maintain my own dignity and your own sanity, let's not delve too deep into the Cthulhuian bioterror that laid waste to that poor country doughnut shop, for legend says to invoke its spirit is to invite it into your reality across both time and space, and let me just assure you, that's not a thing you want. Suffice it to say a day of high-heat dehydration and abundant fried foods had merged to create the perfect storm of high-density regret. It wasn't pretty -- not that it should have been. And then I flushed.
Time slows to a crawl in those moments when it dawns on you a bad situation is about to get worse. In this moment, as I stared at the toilet bowl, at water that didn't even pause to consider going down the drain, rather it began to rise like the Mississippi in flood rains, I knew I had erred.
And soon, this will be my life.
Through no fault of my own, I had created a monster and, like the good doctor from Mary Shelley's novel, I was absolutely in no way equipped to deal with the repercussions. And so I fled.
I ran like a bitch from that bathroom. I'm not proud of it. It was late and I was sore and tired and young and stupid. And as the waters crested the bowl and crept across the tiled floor like a thing possessed, I said nothing to anyone. I fled the shop and returned to the car.
"Drive!" I commanded. Uggums looked at me perplexed until our eyes met, mine a frenzy of panic, his briefly hooded and sleepy.
"What did you do?"
"Drive!" I hissed. And, having known me for many a year, he questioned my motives no further. We drove. We never looked back.
Which Sci-Fi Trope Would You Bring To The Real World, And Why? Every summer we're treated to the same buffet of three or four science fiction movies with the same basic conceits. There's man vs. aliens, man vs. robots, man vs. army of clones and man vs. complicated time travel rules. With virtual reality and self-driving cars fast approaching, it's time to consider what type of sci-fi movie we want to be living in for the rest of our lives. Co-hosts Jack O'Brien and Adam Tod Brown are joined by Cracked's Tom Reimann and Josh Sargent along with comedians David Huntsberger, Caitlin Gill, and Lizzy Cooperman to figure out which sci-fi trope would be the best to make a reality. Get your tickets to this live podcast here!
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