Don’t Go Outside
Don’t go outside. Why would you do that? It’s a harsh terrible place full of deadly animals, carcinogenic substances, and cars moving at upwards of 90 mph. Cars everywhere. You would not believe how many cars are zipping around outside, just flying down the road, and yet with one infinitesimal deviation, a person’s consciousness is purged from existence, scorched from the list of living people on the earth. Do you know what happens when a twenty ton vehicle travelling at 80 miles per hour strikes your fragile human form? Your body accompanies the car’s windshield to its destination while your head stays in the same approximate location, drops to the concrete, and rolls onto an elementary school playground like an out-of-bounds soccer ball. That’s what happens. And every two seconds spent outside, a car passes you — casually, nonchalantly, as if it weren’t a potential instrument of death — and in that instant, you run a slight chance of being struck. But sooner or later, you will be hit by a car. And die.
The outside is subject to variable changes in temperature. When I discovered this, I was as flabbergasted as the ghost couple in Beetlejuice when they stepped outside their front door. You know how sometimes you open a window, and then say, “Oh my God. Why’s it so much colder all of a sudden?” Then you close the window, and you’re like, “That’s so much better. Why did I ever open the window in the first place?” Imagine if there was no window to close, no thermostat to adjust. That’s the outside: a place of uncomfortably high or low temperatures, but never the perfect temperature, never. To maintain a constant comfortable homeostasis, plastic climate controlled tubes should be installed between all buildings or at least underground ant colony style tunnels full of stores, restaurants, and domiciles. How pleasant it would be to live in lukewarm darkness like a Morlock/ Gollum/ Vietcong. Unprocessed air is full of allergens. Unfiltered sunlight seeds your skin with cancer. A sunset can be seen by googling the word “sunset”. Who needs the outside?
You know what lives outside? Bees. Bees are everywhere — on the streets, in the woods, in backyards, all over the place. I can’t go to the bathroom in public places because bees hide in the stalls. Bees expel a gas through their skin that causes chapped lips and psoriasis. Did you know bees kill over 22 million people a year? That’s twice as many people as died in the holocaust except it’s every single year. Here’s some more information about bees: My friend’s cousin was visiting the Grand Canyon with his family, and a bee pushed his dad off the edge. Because bees can sting multiple people, and bees sting thousands of people every day, any sting has a 98% chance of transmitting AIDS. Whenever you ask a girl out and she’s like, “No, sorry, I actually have a boyfriend,” her boyfriend is a bee. Sometimes you’ll be walking around outside and feel a little depressed — that’s caused by bee larva gestating in the brain. AIDS is caused by bees. And do you know where bees live? Outside.
Sometimes I’ll be watching the news, and the reporter will talk about someone who “died of the elements.” That’s fancy-talk for “died of being outside.” Evidently, you can die from just existing outside too long. I could just be standing on my front porch, and then — whoops, too long spent outside — fall down dead, and the reporter would say, “He died of the elements.” People walking around outside all the time are as reckless as astronauts going on spacewalks without their suits. The outside is just like outer space, except with air, you idiots. Oh yeah, sure, walk your dog, play your basketball, ride your rollercoasters — you’re all going to die, and then you’ll look so dumb.
I think I’m sick. My blood feels like thick milkshake being pumped through a narrow straw. I suspect I’m decaying prematurely, like my tissues are atrophying from too much time spent sitting in one place, eating Easter candy. When was the last time I ate a fruit? I should eat an apple. Someone should bring me an apple. Wait — what is that buzzing sound? NO! HOW IN GOD’S NAME DID A FLY GET IN HERE! OH GOD! GET AWAY FROM ME! ITS BODY IS STICKY WITH VIRUSES! I’M PUKING! I’M PUKING! I’M PUKING!
Anyway, why do people still go outside? Hasn’t anyone heard of global warming? We’ll all end up in UV protected habitation facilities eventually or the underground tunnels I mentioned previously, so we might as well start now. Sometimes, people say to me, “Brad, when was the last time you went outside? You’re so pale you look like a cancer patient.” Well, the joke’s on them because I will easily adapt to the post-apocalyptic wasteland, the endless dust bowl littered with the bones of our dead civilization. Other people will say, “I’m gonna go outside to walk the dog,” or “I’m gonna go for a jog,” or “I’m gonna get the mail,” and the heat — or bees — will kill them instantly. But I will stay inside where it’s safe and be the indoor version of Paul Atreides.
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