Writer's Note: This was meant to be funny. After a year like 2020, I do not know about the rest of you, but I've never seen TP fly off the shelves so fast in my life and I've always wondered what the thing was about it. But, I hope there are a laugh or two, possibly even a "Good god! I can't believe I just read that!" or "Great, now my brain hurts." to go along with reading. I wish all a wonderful day/night/afternoon and better years to come!
The night had been rather calm, considering the predictions on the news of late had been almost prophetic in their assessments that the masses had gone bonkers. The toilet paper had just begun to grace the shelves with its presence once more and despite the masks that were going on clearance, disposable masks seemed more desirable at the moment. Finally returning to work after being stuck inside for what seemed like years, when in reality it had been just a few weeks, possibly months, was a small blessing and allowed for the threat of assault charges and divorces to subside for a little while.
For a little while, that is...
Finding a letter on the table when she returned home had been a surprise. "Who writes letters these days that isn't from a billing department," she mused quietly to herself. "It even looks like it's from a typewriter..."
12th January 2029
Dear Lore,
Hopefully, this will reach you in time and you'll take this seriously. Right now, you're probably looking at the envelope, wondering who the hell would write a letter and discovering it is yourself. I know, I know, Lore, but I, or we did it. Look, I know, right at this moment that you already have that weird "Spide-y Sense" thing telling you that we're not bullshitting ourselves and there isn't much time, depending on how reliable this mail system is, and lemme tell ya, you think the regular post office in 2019 is bad, just wait until you try to mail something to someone in the past!
You need to stock up on toilet paper! I know, what an odd thing to go out and buy, right?! I thought it was nuts when it started happening. That stuff disappeared from the shelves like it was some kind of cure! I'm tellin' ya, there were a couple of close calls there, where we thought we wouldn't find any! Just save yourself the trouble now and just get that Sam's Club card. You know you've been wanting to scour the savings and just be a "part of the elite"! Alright, the last part, I know you scoffed at, but just do us both a favour and start stalking up.
So, to make sure that you really, really know it's us writing this letter, the answer to your question: "Why do brain cells come and brain cells go, but fat cells stay forever?" Believe me, we've been hunting for that answer for well over two decades now. 'Best I can tell you is to stop working at the gym and actually START working OUT at the gym. Capiche? 'Cause, let's face it sister, this half-ass bullshit you've gotten in the habit in lately honey, it's not doin' either one of us any favours, k? Anyway, we're doing it again and getting off track. And no, they haven't legalized The Purge, so you can stop making that list you've been working on. It's not gonna happen. I know, I was bummed a bit too.
I'm sending this for December 2019 and that should give you plenty of time to get at least a few of those big packs that you like to wait until there are only two rolls left. (Might want to rethink that, sweetie. Not kidding, it's #T-Panic!!!)
Also, seriously quit that job and get one at the liquor store. You don't want to fuck with the peeps about that mask business. You'll end up medicating yourself if you don't. That wasn't a fun experience.
Well, here's to a better future that's a little less panic-ish.
Yourself,
Lore
P.S. In case you STILL don't believe me, where'd this flyer come from, hmm? And don't tell me it could have been printed anywhere. No, the clone isn't pranking you.
She sat in the chair, her mouth ajar and her palms a bit sweaty. "Punkin," she called out when she was able to find her voice. "Did you order anything online lately? Or has your dad?"
"Huh? Mom, are you alright?" A small replica, save for the hair colour, answered with her eyebrow raised. "You look... pale, which you haven't been in a while."
"I'm fine, but did you or your dad write this?" Holding the letter out for the clone to glance for herself.
"That sounds like you, Mom," she answered and then pointed to the bottom of the page. "That's your signature too. It's a hard one to try to--"
"Uh-huh," Lore said with her eyes narrowing at the small human. "Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, young lady?"
"Definitely not," the clone answered quickly. "Looks legit, but she wasn't kidding about the mail system being way off. The crisis has been over for months!"
"True..." Lore quietly said, watching the wee lass go back to Fortnite and she to her laptop with a chuckle as she thought aloud, "I guess we did survive the TP-ocalypse..."
The night had been rather calm, considering the predictions on the news of late had been almost prophetic in their assessments that the masses had gone bonkers. The toilet paper had just begun to grace the shelves with its presence once more and despite the masks that were going on clearance, disposable masks seemed more desirable at the moment. Finally returning to work after being stuck inside for what seemed like years, when in reality it had been just a few weeks, possibly months, was a small blessing and allowed for the threat of assault charges and divorces to subside for a little while.
For a little while, that is...
Finding a letter on the table when she returned home had been a surprise. "Who writes letters these days that isn't from a billing department," she mused quietly to herself. "It even looks like it's from a typewriter..."
12th January 2029
Dear Lore,
Hopefully, this will reach you in time and you'll take this seriously. Right now, you're probably looking at the envelope, wondering who the hell would write a letter and discovering it is yourself. I know, I know, Lore, but I, or we did it. Look, I know, right at this moment that you already have that weird "Spide-y Sense" thing telling you that we're not bullshitting ourselves and there isn't much time, depending on how reliable this mail system is, and lemme tell ya, you think the regular post office in 2019 is bad, just wait until you try to mail something to someone in the past!
You need to stock up on toilet paper! I know, what an odd thing to go out and buy, right?! I thought it was nuts when it started happening. That stuff disappeared from the shelves like it was some kind of cure! I'm tellin' ya, there were a couple of close calls there, where we thought we wouldn't find any! Just save yourself the trouble now and just get that Sam's Club card. You know you've been wanting to scour the savings and just be a "part of the elite"! Alright, the last part, I know you scoffed at, but just do us both a favour and start stalking up.
So, to make sure that you really, really know it's us writing this letter, the answer to your question: "Why do brain cells come and brain cells go, but fat cells stay forever?" Believe me, we've been hunting for that answer for well over two decades now. 'Best I can tell you is to stop working at the gym and actually START working OUT at the gym. Capiche? 'Cause, let's face it sister, this half-ass bullshit you've gotten in the habit in lately honey, it's not doin' either one of us any favours, k? Anyway, we're doing it again and getting off track. And no, they haven't legalized The Purge, so you can stop making that list you've been working on. It's not gonna happen. I know, I was bummed a bit too.
I'm sending this for December 2019 and that should give you plenty of time to get at least a few of those big packs that you like to wait until there are only two rolls left. (Might want to rethink that, sweetie. Not kidding, it's #T-Panic!!!)
Also, seriously quit that job and get one at the liquor store. You don't want to fuck with the peeps about that mask business. You'll end up medicating yourself if you don't. That wasn't a fun experience.
Well, here's to a better future that's a little less panic-ish.
Yourself,
Lore
P.S. In case you STILL don't believe me, where'd this flyer come from, hmm? And don't tell me it could have been printed anywhere. No, the clone isn't pranking you.
She sat in the chair, her mouth ajar and her palms a bit sweaty. "Punkin," she called out when she was able to find her voice. "Did you order anything online lately? Or has your dad?"
"Huh? Mom, are you alright?" A small replica, save for the hair colour, answered with her eyebrow raised. "You look... pale, which you haven't been in a while."
"I'm fine, but did you or your dad write this?" Holding the letter out for the clone to glance for herself.
"That sounds like you, Mom," she answered and then pointed to the bottom of the page. "That's your signature too. It's a hard one to try to--"
"Uh-huh," Lore said with her eyes narrowing at the small human. "Are you sure you want to finish that sentence, young lady?"
"Definitely not," the clone answered quickly. "Looks legit, but she wasn't kidding about the mail system being way off. The crisis has been over for months!"
"True..." Lore quietly said, watching the wee lass go back to Fortnite and she to her laptop with a chuckle as she thought aloud, "I guess we did survive the TP-ocalypse..."
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