At least I’m being honest, right?
Thing is, why or how I got to be some guy living in a remote mountain cabin writing the next great American novel is besides the point. Perhaps the hustle and bustle of big city living got to be too much. Perhaps I couldn’t concentrate with the constant fly-overs by commercial airliners. No matter. The reason for being there would be a moot point the minute your hungry lost abandoned-by-your-guides self showed up at my door.
At which point, if I’m being honest, I probably wouldn’t give you any food.
If I could perform complicated surgeries with a toothpick, my phone would never stop ringing.
Most calls, of course, would come from International locations like Burma and Greenland and Taiwan and Indonesia — where people are open minded about tricky, questionable, almost magical-like surgical techniques like mine and are more than happy to become guinea pigs if it means free gauze and syringes. But as quickly as they would call, the lists of patients would overwhelm…because when the media and journalists of the world saw what amazing things I could do with a toothpick…
…well, I’d be the King of the (Medical) World.
“Wonder Twin powers activate! Form of an eagle!”
They would be the words you would utter if you were one half of a Wonder Twin power partnership. And me, being the other half of said Wonder Twin power partnership, I would most likely reply: “Form of a useless pail of water, to be carried by said eagle!” On one hand, you would probably look at me with that disappointing Wonder Twin power look, but on the other hand you would probably guffaw — since not only would I be a Wonder Twin, filled with the power of a thousand un-Wonder twins, but I would also be a Funny Wonder Twin.
And that would make all the difference.
If I could transplant dead Elvis’ head onto my body and still be a contributing member of society…well, I think a lot of people who weren’t fans of Elvis would still be pretty damn impressed with my abilities.
See, there would of course be a slew of Elvis fans who would come from miles around just to meet me, if not simply because they’d finally be able to put to rest that old “I wonder what Elvis would look like if he was alive today” debate. Of course, technically, they’d be looking at a dead Elvis head (which looks pretty old and unkempt) but they’d be looking at a well-toned body with bulging muscles from the neck down, and that would at least convince people that although Elvis might have been bloated before…he’d be looking pretty damn fit in the present.
That being said, it’s the non-Elvis fans who would be even more impressed because they’d come to the table with zero Elvis baggage. They’d show up to meet the contributing member of society with the dead head on his shoulders. They’d probably try to have conversations with me and my dead Elvis head, and due to the fact that I would be a contributing member of society — I would obviously have conversations with all of them.
Because you can’t be a contributing member of society if you don’t communicate with society itself. Duh.
And although science and medical technology has not yet reached the point where they allow someone like me to transplant dead Elvis’ head onto my body, just knowing that if it was possible…that I would be a contributing member of society even with the dead crusty head bobbling around on my shoulders…
Well, that makes me feel good about people in general and their ability to accept others, no matter the ailment, disease or dead skull atop their shoulders.
So yeah. I’m feeling good.
If the sun was called Poppy Seed, things would be different — that’s for sure.
Your mother might warn you to take the “poppy seed-screen” with you before you went to the beach. If you didn’t, you’d probably get a “poppy seed burn” — which sounds horrific when you really think about it. Classic songs would suddenly have new song titles like “Here Comes the Poppy Seed” and “Poppy Seed-shiny Day.” People would be confused when others told them not to look directly into the poppy seed or risk going blind.
Scientists would freak out all human beings by predicting the day when THE poppy seed would explode and destroy Earth.
Humans would quickly decide they’d rather go out and frolic on a cloudy day, simply based on the fact that no one would want to go play outside on a poppy-seedy day. Fans of the band Midnight Oil would probably no longer be interested in listening to their awesome CD, “Earth and Poppy Seed and Moon.” And no one (and I mean no one) would want to “run to the poppy seed.”
Probably not a good idea if the sun was called “poppy seed.”