Why should media have a monopoly on doom?
The Everyman is out here forced to toil in platitudes of better late than never, hashtag good vibes, I’m manifesting inner peace and the like, while mainstream news has the pleasure of telling us how we’re all gonna die on a daily basis. Lucky bastards.
With participation trophies blazing the trail, we’ve navigated the path of positive reinforcement for a few decades now, maybe it’s time to go back to the tried-and-true strategy of negative reinforcement. And if you don’t like it, oh we’ll give you something to cry about.
Unfortunate Cookies.
The fortune cookie, barely food, a vehicle to disperse fortunes, rarely eaten, always crumbling. Crack open the hard cookie shell, spilling more crumbs than a single cookie should be able to produce, pull out the small strip of paper. In an easy-to-read blue font: “Tomorrow, there will be more traffic than you can possibly imagine. Lucky numbers: the infinite honks of a sea of standstill vehicles idling to the gates of limbo.”
She laughs the laugh of a work from homer whom remembers work commutes as a tale told by our ancestors, recalled in a similar fashion as the invention of the wheel or the cow that burned down Chicago. She cracks open her cookie: “Is his smile genuine? Does he even love you anymore? Why does he work so late? Lucky numbers: your ex’s phone number.”
From across the room, the attentive waiter observes the smiles fade from your faces. He acts. Grabbing a handful of cookies, he rushes over dropping the pile on the clear white tablecloth, you thank him, he nods with a toothy grin. You two frantically rip open plastic wrappings, cracking open fortune after fortune as if one can pick and choose their fate.
“You’re gonna stub your toe. Lucky numbers: the only time you’re banging on the furniture.”
“There’s a reason they call the ribs a cage, your heart is a prisoner. Lucky number: the number of times you listen to that sad song on repeat.”
“It’s raining. You forgot an umbrella…ella…ella… eh. Lucky numbers: drip drip drop little April showers.”
“You’re about to be passed over for that promotion! Lucky numbers: 0% salary increase.”
“You forgot to buy eggs at the supermarket today. Lucky numbers: Definitely not a dozen.”
“Do you really think that was a good hairstyle choice? Lucky number: the next time slot your hairdresser has available.”
“You destroyed me for what? Senseless worry and your morbid fascination with disaster? Lucky numbers: one less tough cookie in this world.”
Tablecloth covered in scattered crumbs and undesired destinies, you leave. It’s not raining, the soft breeze is nice. The darkness seems a little brighter than usual. You hold hands back to the car. You double check your that your seatbelt is on. She sits in the back for extra safety. You converse like you’re taxi driver and passenger. Which isn’t too far from the truth, after all, don’t we all pick one role or the other? Do we drive to our fortunes or let someone else lead us there?
Which reminds me of a fortune cookie: you often find your destiny on the path you take to avoid it.
-Hector Elizondo
Editor’s note: We are committed to providing the best possible news coverage to our readership. We hire only the finest staff to construct the stories and ideas you need to hear. As such, we are implementing a new company policy in which our fine journalists will no longer handle mainstream news coverage while amidst the throes of divorce and will be temporarily reassigned to the more fitting obituary column.