An Absolutely Remarkable Thing

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Don’t read the comments.

“I’m not scared of being on TV,” I asserted. “Yeah, you are!” she countered. I checked, and I found that she was right.

Of course, I immediately had the Dream again. And again, I didn’t think much of it at the time. You might think it’s weird that Andy and I hadn’t figured out the Dream yet, but it was a pretty boring dream and, in general, talking about even interesting dreams to other people is dull as hell. I try not to do it under any circumstances because of how much I hate it when other people do it to me. And besides, Andy and I probably had said a total of four words to each other that day.

“I weigh a hundred twenty pounds, and I’m the scariest thing you’ve ever seen. Call me when you grow a pair.” She closed the door behind her.

The comments on YouTube, Facebook, and Twitter instantly switched from a small, friendly, supportive community to a selection of the loudest, most over-the-top opinions one could imagine. I was a traitor to my species. I was ultra-fuckable. I was a space alien. I was an ultra-fuckable space alien. And so on.

Since America hadn’t been part of the attack, and Americans are incapable of considering that evil people would coordinate a massive attack and leave us out of it, everyone assumed something else was coming.

Then I pipe up, nearly shouting, “I concur!” which causes a fresh wave of stars in my vision. I have no idea why I can’t ever shut the fuck up. That’s what I should’ve named this book. I Have No Idea Why I Can’t Ever Shut the Fuck Up: The April May Story.