by Simon Rich
GOD: Who is that man, on the poster above his bed?
ANGEL: His name is Weird Al Yankovic.
GOD: I’ve never heard of him. Is he…a Talmudic scholar?
ANGEL: Um…yes.
Inside the cartridge: Duck Hunt
SCENE: GRASS PATCH RD.
—Thank God. The barrage is finally over.
—How many have perished?
—…
—Please, father. I’m old enough to know the truth.
—Thirty-six, son. Thirty-six of our fellow ducks…with thirty-six bullets.
—I don’t understand. How could the killer have such perfect accuracy?
—Simple. He holds the gun so close to our bodies that it’s physically impossible for him to miss us.
—But where’s the sport in that?
—It isn’t the challenge of the hunt that drives him, son. It’s his sick thirst for blood.
—Jesus.
—There’s more. It is said that the killer…is a child.
—Impossible.
—I’m just repeating what the elders have said.
—How could a child possibly have so much rage?
—I don’t know. He clearly has emotional problems.
—How could his parents allow him to attack us like this, for so many hours a day and so many days in a row?
—They are blind.
—Good Lord…I think I hear something!
—It’s starting up again.
—I hope he chooses to shoot clay discs this time.
—Hope is a dangerous thing, son.
Deal with God
When I was nine years old, I made the following prayer to God:
Dear Lord, if you save the sitcom Perfect Strangers from being canceled, I promise I’ll start believing in you and going to synagogue every week.
Three weeks later, ABC announced that they were picking up Perfect Strangers for another thirteen episodes. And yet, despite this miracle, I continued to doubt God’s existence.
GOD, PRESENT DAY
ANGEL: Quite a turnout in synagogue today! Look…the entire Rubinstein family showed up!
GOD: Stop trying to distract me. Did Simon come or not?
ANGEL: The service just started…maybe he’ll come later?
GOD: Do you know how many strings I had to pull to get Perfect Strangers back on the air? It was unbelievably difficult.
ANGEL: I know, sir.
GOD: I had to kill ABC’s head of programming and replace him with someone who liked the show.
ANGEL: I remember.
GOD: Do you know how many people prayed for me to cancel that show? Like four hundred people.
ANGEL: Maybe Simon would come to synagogue if you gave him another miracle?
GOD: Like what?
ANGEL: Well…he just sent you this prayer.
GOD: (reading) “Dear God, please fix this damn wireless Internet connection.”
ANGEL: What do you think?
GOD: Well…the only way I can think of to fix his wireless connection is to strike all the power lines with lightning. And that could result in countless deaths.
ANGEL: I don’t know if it’s worth it, sir. Maybe we should just move on?
GOD: (Shakes head.) This is too important.
What I imagined the people around me were saying when I was…
ELEVEN
—Oh, man, I can’t believe that kid Simon missed that ground ball! How pathetic!
—Wait…he’s staring at his baseball glove with a confused expression on his face. Maybe there’s something wrong with his glove and that’s why he messed up?
—Yes, that’s probably what happened.
TWELVE
—Did that kid sitting behind us on the bus just get an erection?
—I don’t know. For a while, I thought that was the case, but now that he’s holding a book on his lap, it’s impossible to tell.
—I guess we’ll never know what the situation was.
THIRTEEN
—Hey, look, that thirteen-year-old is walking around with his mom!
—Where?
—There—in front of the supermarket!
—Oh my God! That kid is way too old to be hanging out with his mom. Even though I’ve never met him, I can tell he’s a complete loser.
—Wait a minute…he’s scowling at her and rolling his eyes.
—Oh, yeah…and I think I just heard him curse at her, for no reason.
—I guess he’s cool after all.
FOURTEEN
—Why does that kid have a black X on the back of his right hand?
—I bet it’s because he went to some kind of cool rock concert last night.
—Wow…he must’ve stayed out pretty late if he didn’t have time to scrub it off.
—Yeah, and that’s probably why his hair is so messy and unwashed. Because he cares more about rocking out than conforming to society.
—Even though he isn’t popular in the traditional sense, I respect him from afar.
FIFTEEN
—Hey, look, that kid is reading Howl by Allen Ginsberg.
—Wow. He must be some kind of rebel genius.
—I’m impressed by the fact that he isn’t trying to call attention to himself.
—Yeah, he’s just sitting silently in the corner, flipping the pages and nodding, with total comprehension.
—It’s amazing: he’s so absorbed in his book that he isn’t even aware that a party is going on around him, with dancing and fun.
—Why aren’t any girls going over and talking to him?
—I guess they’re probably a little intimidated by his brilliance.
—Well, who wouldn’t be?
—I’m sure the girls will talk to him soon.
—It’s only a matter of time.
SIXTEEN
—Hey, look, it’s that kid Simon who wrote that scathing poem for the literary magazine.
—You mean the one about how people are phonies? Wow—I loved that poem!
—Me too. Reading it made me realize for the first time that everyone is a phony, including me.
—The only person at this school who isn’t a phony is Simon.
—Yeah. He sees right through us.
How my mother imagined the police
FIRST OFFICER: I just got a call from a local mother. Apparently her child was supposed to be home by six—and he still hasn’t arrived.
SECOND OFFICER: Jesus Christ. It’s almost seven. Are you sure she told him to be home by six?
FIRST OFFICER: Yes, that’s his weekday curfew: six P.M. If he stays out past that hour, he’s supposed to call and tell her where he is.
SECOND OFFICER: And you’re telling me he still hasn’t called?
FIRST OFFICER: I know…it’s a pretty scary situation.
SECOND OFFICER: We better get the chief.
CHIEF: Let me get this straight…the mother still hasn’t received a call from her son?
FIRST OFFICER: No, Chief.
CHIEF: Then we can only assume the worst has happened.
SECOND OFFICER: You mean…a hit-and-run?
CHIEF: Either that or a kidnapping. They’re both very real possibilities. Get Washington on the horn. This is a job for the FBI.
FBI AGENT: All right, everybody, listen up. We’ve got a Code Red. A fifteen-year-old child has been missing for nearly an hour and he has had no contact whatsoever with his mother. Grab your guns and your helicopters and let’s get moving!
FIRST OFFICER: (shaking his head) What’s the point, sir? It’s been so long…he’s almost certainly dead!
FBI AGENT: (Slaps him.) We got to keep looking, for the mother’s sake. Even if it’s just to find the body.
SECOND OFFICER: (in tears) Chief, we found him! He was at a friend’s house playing video games!
CHIEF: Oh, thank God—I thought for sure we’d lost him!
FBI AGENT: (lighting a cigarette) We got lucky this time. Let’s hope to Christ there ain’t a next
time.
CHIEF: (mopping the sweat off his face) I’m getting too old for this.
FBI AGENT: All I can say is: Thank God that boy’s mother called. If we hadn’t located him when we did, he almost certainly would have been killed somehow.
Ninth-grade experiments
1
OBSERVATION: None of the girls in my class think that I’m cool.
RESEARCH: My older brother told me that the political hardcore band Rage Against the Machine is cool.
HYPOTHESIS: If I pretend to be really into the political hardcore band Rage Against the Machine, then the girls in my class will think that I’m cool.
MATERIALS:
1 Rage Against the Machine album
1 Rage Against the Machine T-shirt
1 Rage Against the Machine bandanna
METHODS:
1) Wear the T-shirt and bandanna every single day for an entire month.
2) Make fun of everybody in the class for listening to bands that are less politically intense than Rage Against the Machine. Especially make fun of the girls who I am trying to impress.
3) Quote Rage Against the Machine lyrics constantly, regardless of the situation.
4) If someone asks me what I’m talking about, roll my eyes and say, “You probably wouldn’t get it. It has to do with communism.”
5) If someone calls my bluff and asks me what communism is, bang my fist against the table and say, “God, stop being such a poser!”
WAS YOUR HYPOTHESIS CORRECT? No.
2
OBSERVATION: None of the girls in my class think that I’m cool.
RESEARCH: Mike Cobalt wears gel in his hair and the girls think he’s cool.
HYPOTHESIS: If I wear gel in my hair, then the girls will think I’m cool.
MATERIAL: 1
large bottle of Dep Shaping Gel (Extra Super Hold)
METHODS:
1) Wear gel in my hair every day for a week.
2) When my mom stops me at the elevator every morning and begs to help me use the gel because I “don’t understand how it works,” become so furious with her that I’m almost at the brink of tears.
WAS YOUR HYPOTHESIS CORRECT? No.
3
OBSERVATION: None of the girls in my class think that I’m cool. But one of the girls in my history class has started being nice to me.
RESEARCH: Sometimes when I’m eating lunch alone in the cafeteria, she sits down next to me, voluntarily. One time, when the two of us were alone in an elevator, she said, “God, Saturdays are so boring. I wish someone would take me to a movie or something.”
HYPOTHESIS: If I ask her out, she might say yes—as long as I do it in a super-slick way.
MATERIALS: 3
cans of Jolt cola
METHODS:
1) Go to the bathroom at lunch and drink all three cans of Jolt to “get pumped.”
2) Walk around her table in a circle until she motions for me to sit down next to her.
3) Pretend that I just noticed for the first time that she was sitting in the cafeteria, even though it’s basically empty except for me and her.
4) Sit down across from her.
5) When she asks me if everything is okay, because parts of my face are twitching, tell her that I’m fine.
6) Don’t say anything for ten whole minutes.
7) Tell her that The Waterboy starring Adam Sandler is opening on Friday.
8) Wait a little while for that information to sink in.
9) When she asks me if I’m planning on seeing it, say yes.
10) When she asks me if I’m going to see it with anyone, say no.
11) Stare at my tray for a few minutes, until she pokes me on the shoulder and says, “Hey…do you want to ask me to go with you?”
12) Look up and nod.
WAS YOUR HYPOTHESIS CORRECT? Yes!
Choose your own adventure
In Choose Your Own Adventure 17 you were a prince of England, jousting your way to the throne! In Choose Your Own Adventure 46 you were a boy rock star, jamming your way up the charts! Now, in Choose Your Own Adventure 92, you’re a grownup, working as a Corporate Software Designer in Poughkeepsie.
PAGE ONE
You wake up at 7:45. The alarm clock never went off, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve gotten so used to waking up every single day at the same time that it just happens automatically now. You feel so horrible you can barely even believe it. Suddenly you remember that it’s Wednesday. That means there’s going to be one of those Projects Meetings and you’re going to have to sit through the entire three-hour nightmare as soon as you get to work. Maybe you should just call in sick? You have three sick days and you’ve only used one so far. Then again, if you use your second sick day now, you’ll only have one left.
If you decide to use your sick day now, turn to Page Two.
If you decide to save your sick day for some other time, turn to Page Six.
PAGE TWO
You call the office and tell them you’re sick.
“That’s your second sick day,” Nancy tells you. “You only have one left.”
“I know,” you say, hanging up the phone.
How did this happen? How did this become your life?
You try to go back to sleep, but it’s impossible. After about five minutes, you sit up and turn on the television. That’s when you remember: the cable in your apartment is broken and the guy isn’t coming to fix it until Saturday. You flip around for a while, but the only channels you get are CBS and NBC. CBS is playing The Early Show. NBC is playing the Today show.
If you decide to watch The Early Show on CBS, turn to Page Three.
If you decide to watch the Today show on NBC, turn to Page Four.
PAGE THREE
You watch The Early Show.
Turn to Page Five.
PAGE FOUR
You watch the Today show.
Turn to Page Five.
PAGE FIVE
You go to the bathroom and look at your face. What happened? You used to be young and it wasn’t so long ago. Jesus. Maybe you should have just gone to work.
THE END
PAGE SIX
You go to work. The Projects Meeting is about as horrible as you expected. It’s just the same thing every time. Mr. Cohen talking about “viability,” and everybody nodding and looking at the clock, waiting for lunch to start, like a bunch of animals. When you get down to it, everybody is basically just an animal—eating, sleeping, eating, sleeping. Dying. Christ. Maybe you should have just called in sick.
THE END
Actor’s nightmare
FORD’S THEATER, 1865
(LADY HAMPTON and LORD HAMPTON enter stage right.)
LADY HAMPTON: Good afternoon, sir.
LORD HAMPTON: Good afternoon.
(President Lincoln shot in the head.)
STAGE MANAGER: (offstage) Keep going!
Demands
Dear cops,
I’ll release the hostages if you bring me the following items:
1) Combination to bank vault or some kind of machine that can open vaults
2) A strong bag that is big enough to fit all of the money from the vault
3) A second criminal to help me carry this bag out of the bank
4) Ropes to tie up the hostages so they don’t walk around so much
5) A third criminal with a car who can drive us away as soon as we get outside with the bag
6) MapQuest directions from the bank parking lot to Mexico
7) Some general information on Mexico (what kind of currency they use, which sports are popular there, basic culture things)
8) English to Spanish dictionary
9) Someone needs to go back to my apartment and bring me my asthma inhaler. It’s either in the medicine cabinet or on the little table next to the futon.
10) There’s a small chance I left the stove on in my apartment. I don’t think I did, but I’m a little bit worried because I can’t actually visualize myself turning it off
. Anyway, whichever policeman goes to get the inhaler should also check to make sure the burner is all the way off because I left my cat behind and I don’t want him to inhale any gas.
11) I just realized that someone is going to have to adopt my cat. His name is Rudy and he is very smart and affectionate. I’m not just saying that because he is mine—he is a really special animal. He has a slight bladder problem but it’s not bad as long as you give him his medication (the directions are on the bottle).
12) I forgot to give Rudy his pill this morning. Just give him two tonight. You’re really not supposed to do it like that, but it’s okay if it ends up happening once in a while.
13) Some kind of weapon.
Gotham City Hall
BATMAN: Thanks for taking the time to meet with me, Mayor.
MAYOR: Of course, Batman. What’s on your mind?
BATMAN: It’s about the prison system. I really think you should increase funding.
MAYOR: We’ve already been over this, Batman. We simply don’t have the resources.
BATMAN: But Gotham City needs a maximum security prison. I mean…look at these statistics. (Takes out pie chart.) Scarecrow has escaped eleven times. The Riddler has escaped sixty-four times. The Joker has escaped four thousand times. It’s like, what’s the point of even having a prison?
MAYOR: I wish there was something I could do, but the annual budget’s already been finalized.
BATMAN: You know these guys are trying to kill me, right?
MAYOR: I’ll tell you what: I can transfer the Joker to the Asylum for the Criminally Insane. That’s a secure location.
BATMAN: Are you kidding me? That place is a freaking joke!
MAYOR:…
BATMAN: I’m sorry…I was out of line.
MAYOR: That’s all right. I know this is an emotional issue for you.