#7. The worst thing that could happen to me is…
When I first read this, I thought to myself “Wait a tic, didn’t I already answer this on Day 4?” And for those of you wondering, I honestly thought “Wait a tic” – and in an English accent. I’ve seen Austin Powers wayyyy too many times (Saber can vouch to that). But I suppose day 4 asked what was the worst thing that had happened to me, while this is what I think is the worst thing that could happen to me. Being optimistic ray of sunshine that I am, I couldn’t think of an answer.
Nah, I’m just fucking with you – I totally have an answer. Bah, ray of sunshine – like anyone would’ve ever bought that! Worst. Lie. Ever!
Anyways, this question reminded me of grade 12 (I believe it was grade 12). Well, whatever grade it was, I was reminded of English class. Saber was in my class this year, and we had this assignment where we had to read a short story sort of thing, and then add-on to it. The story we had to read was about another man going into an elevator, and another man is in there with him – the second man starts to sob uncontrollably, and the first man isn’t sure what to do – if he should comfort him or not, etcetera. Our assignment was to write from the perspective of the crying man, as to what could have set him off like that. I remember that Saber and I wrote this long, contrived, hilarious story of how this man was having the worst possible day in his life.
I think the worst thing that could happen to me would be along the same lines of this. My worst day would probably entail:
Me waking up after tossing and turning all night, grouchy and tired. As I get out of my bed I get tangled in my bed sheets and fall onto the floor, hitting my funny bone. After the pain subsides, I untangle myself from my bed-sheet constraints, and make my way to the bathroom. Someone had just gone number 2 in the bathroom, and it is not a pleasant smell. I hold my breath, go to the bathroom, only to find that the toilet paper roll is empty except for one square, and there are no new toilet paper rolls to replace this one. After I manage with one square, I head downstairs to make a coffee. Not only are we out of coffee, but the coffee maker has been broken – it appears someone has tampered with my beloved coffee maker. In a fit of rage, I storm back upstairs to shower. The other members of my household used all the hot water and I must have a freezing cold shower. The bar of soap is but a sliver of what it used to be. Before I can carefully use what is left, the soap falls from my hands and slips down the drain – leaving me with no soap. I finish my shower, only half clean, and reach for my towel – but someone has sneezed on it. As I am completely disgusted, I have no choice but to use the last clean face towel to dry myself off with – suffice it to say, it does not do the job well. I go back downstairs, hoping to relax a little bit, and turn on my computer. I check my Facebook, and see that one of my friends has posted pictures from a previous outing. Every photo of me is extremely unflattering, leaving me feel embarrassed and ashamed. I go to grab some breakfast, and all my multigrain cheerios are infested with weevils, and the milk has soured to the point of thickness. I discard the rotten food, and head to work early, hoping the walk will calm my mind. On the way to work, I trip on an obstruction the sidewalk, spraining my ankle. As I hobble the rest of the way, a stray, rabid dog attacks me, chewing up my leg badly. I get to work and call an ambulance – but before the ambulance arrives, I’m informed that they are laying a few workers off to cut costs, and that I have two weeks before my last day. Once the ambulance arrives, they start taking me to the hospital. An extremely attractive PSW makes small talk with me, and mistakes my ages for 35 – I’m devastated. I ignore the small talk, and get to the hospital.
After getting rabies shots and 20 stitches, I exit the hospital, planning to go home and lay down for a while to clear my mind. Before I can even call a cab to pick me up, a crazy man runs up behind me and hits me in the back with a crowbar, screaming “Viva La Resistance! Enjoy the broken coffee maker chica!” – he runs away laughing hysterically before the security can catch him. I pass out from the pain, and wake hours later. A very handsome doctor (who also believes I look 35) tells me I have had kidney failure, and that I will have to be on dialysis for the rest of my life, reducing my quality of life. While in my stay at the hospital, a zombie outbreak occurs, and all my beloved friends and family are bitten and turned into zombies. During the outbreak, I am given a shotgun and told that I have to help defend everyone. When the zombies break in through the doors, I realize that I have absolutely no aim, which results in many lives lost. I manage to run to the roof, but there are no other survivors. I am alone, my friends and family are gone, my kidneys have failed, and the apocalypse has come. It is at this moment that I realize that zombies don’t exist – and I am actually in a mental health facility. I realize that I have a been a patient there for years after my coffee maker broke, causing me to go insane. DUN DUN DUNNN.
Ok, so maybe that isn’t the worst thing that could happen – but really, how can you expect me to answer this question honestly? The worst thing that could happen to me is really depressing, because it involves something happen to the important people in my life. I thought it would be better to make this a bit more satirical, I don’t like thinking about bad things happening to the people I love.