W
e’re friends, right? As your buddy, I need your help. I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. Don’t let your best friend down. I know you, pal, and you’re better than that. You’re like a sibling of unspecified gender to me. Here’s how you can help me. I’m just a man, like you perhaps, or the one sitting closest to you, or maybe the one next to him. It’s hard for me to see from here, but I’m guessing I’m most similar to the latter. I’m sorry to digress like this, I shouldn’t be wasting my valuable time. I’m your average Joseph, your everyman, your Johnathan Doe. This man –myself – needs saving, and for that, I need your savings. Specifically, your elusive Kohls cash. Start flipping through the flyers, direct complaints of blisters or arthritis to 8th Fiery Pit on the Left, 10th Circle, Underworld. I’m literally in Hell. The other day, I (to remind you: an average man, though remarkably handsome according to some) was preparing myself a simple slice of toast for dinner. And what goes better with a brectangle (bread rectangle, patent pending) than a hearty campfire, I submit to you? Having no fuel but today’s delivery of department store flyers, I set the glossy stack ablaze. (This is almost where you come in, get ready.) I was immediately struck dead by God Herself, and I saw Her. Before you ask, she was about as tall as you would think. Cute haircut, too. Surprised that there was enough left of me to even feel surprise, I opened my eyes to discover my charming backyard had vanished, replaced by a desolate, haunted,
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quadrilateral wasteland. It was a drectangle (dreadful rectangle). Moving stealthily yet gracefully through the landscape, I came to the only structure within sight: TJ Maxx. A three-headed parking lot attendant guarded the automatic doors. I still did not know where I was, how I got there, or the multiplication tables past 8. I just never learned them. (Now, this is nearly your cue.) Within the daunting TJ Maxx, I found Minos, Rhadamanthys, and Cher behind registers 6, 6, and 6. Finally, it was clear that I was in the Underworld and about to stand trial for my life and character. I tried to stall but it turns out my right to a lawyer is waived in Hell. “You are charged with blasphemy, burning a sacred tome, treason, currency defacement, and music pirating. How do you plead?” I didn’t understand. There was no need to pirate music once I got Spotify Premium. Also, the first parts were unclear. Shortly, I would learn that nothing is treasured more in the afterlife than savings and deals. Membership rewards, flyers, discount cards, all sacred, but coupons themselves were considered the divine currency. A prophet once tried to enlighten the living and suggest the true value of their coupons, but the connection was fuzzy and listeners thought he said ‘Quran’. That’s another story. (This is almost where you come in.) I understand you’ve been at the edge of your seat, simply dying to lend me your most gracious and generous hand, but wait only a moment longer. Your time is coming. “We crunched the numbers and you’re in the red. Punishment then for you. For eternity you are to be plagued by an unquenchable need for Kohls cash. However, you can never gather it of your own volition, only accept it from another.” In that world, a dire punishment. No ghoul or spirit would be willing to part with their only valuable possession. Judged and sentenced, I was released to mingle. Surely, you agree that I didn’t deserve this, that I lived a good life. I trudged across endless fields determined to satisfy my endless hunger. In my travels, condensed for you into a few sentences, I encountered an oracle of great power. She spake into me, “The man with the most Kohls cash sits next to God”. She also gave me the link to an online miracle-
to-Kohls-cash conversion calculator. Suddenly, it was like my eyes were opened. My vision grew sharper. I could see somewhat farther. I could see through walls but just a little bit. “I need to bribe God.” I said, like in a movie or good book. My mission is not easy. Nobody has ever gathered so many savings in one place since the time Jesus was returned. This is where I need your assistance, your cooperation, your cash. To this, I will devote my afterlife. An unimaginably vast bundle of Kohls cash, offered up to the big Manager in the sky. Customer Service will allow an exchange, for my life back on Earth. I’m asking as a friend. Send me your Kohls cash, so I may cheat death. Your fate is already sealed, but I might well be birthed again if you just did a little pocketbook rummaging. Think about it.
I NEED ALL THE I CAN GET MY NIMBLE, MOISTURIZED FINGERS ON By Victoria Jenkins