Adrian Fort is a writer from Kansas City, Missouri. He has a Bachelors in English Literature from Missouri
Western State University. In his free time he writes, and he collects rejection letters.
Did you know that when you smoke menthol cigarettes, the menthol builds up in your lungs and crystallizes? Yeah, little crystals of the shit build up in your chest. They build up, and they just sit there. Yours for life. Apparently, if you go in to space after that, boom, your lungs pop. Don’t live very long after that.
And that’s how we got the planet.
Some scientist from buttfuck Europe looked up in the night sky and saw an asteroid, or a comet, or whatever the fuck it’s called when it’s going to smash right into earth. So in three months’ time all the white people had packed up and figured out how to get to Mars, and got to Mars. Half a century since anybody got to the fucking moon safely, and in three months, these cocksucking peckerwoods figure out how to get to Mars. Then get to Mars. They get right off this planet and find another. They all pointed to the night sky at the little red dot and said, that’s the one, and they took off.
Fuckers figured out how to get to Mars and give it an atmosphere, but couldn’t figure out how not to make your lungs pop if they had some menthol in them.
They sold it as a chance to start over. Without nations and histories and national debts. And they took their bombs with them anyway. But they never told each other. They had to take some fission because they left all the rhythm. That’s a little joke we told.
And the planet was full of black folk. The reign of mankind on Earth was going to end the way the reign of mankind on Earth started, with black kings and queens running things.
And wouldn’t you know it? That asteroid, or comet, or whatever the fuck it’s called when it’s going to smash right into Earth, well, it never smashed right into Earth.
So we had some meetings and tried to figure out just what to do with ourselves. How could we make things better? We started off by getting rid of skin cancer, that’s a little joke we told.
Then we asked everybody what they wanted. And everyone said more money than they had before. And we realized, if everyone wants more money, and we want everyone to be happy, what’s the goddamned point in having money anyway? So we got rid of money.
Then we asked everyone what else they wanted. And everyone said they wanted insurance, all those menthol cigarettes were going to start affecting us someday, you know? And the doctors said they wanted to keep working anyway, without money and all, and that they set out to be a doctor so they could help people. So everyone was taken care of.
Next, we looked around and saw that there were too goddamned many people living in the cold. Life ain’t good when you’re cold all the time. So we moved everyone where it was warm, and that wasn’t any problem, because then we were all closer to the people we loved anyway.
And you know what happened? Everybody was working to keep their end up, and at the end of the day, we all had just enough energy left to sing and dance and love. And that’s what we did. Day after day. Day after day. Day after day. Eventually we started feeling sorry for the pasty bastards. We thought about sending up satellite signals to them so they could watch sports again. That’s a little joke we told.
Instead, we all agreed to pray for them. Or send them good wishes, in case we didn’t have a god. And we’d look up at night to see if we could see any skyscrapers going up yet. We wanted to see if they were sending down little drones to spy on us. We looked to figure out if the red planet would turn blue or green when it had that new atmosphere. Then one night, that little red dot wasn’t in the sky no more.