There it is. I’ve been looking everywhere for that fucking pill. I dropped it last night when I was drunk. I would have sworn that I stepped on it later when I went to the bathroom, which, come to think of it, shouldn’t have happened while I was in the kitchen—but it would explain that smelly wet spot by the refrigerator. I just thought the refrigerator was leaking; that happens sometimes. At least I didn’t pee on my pill.
This is my magic pill. It will teleport me to wherever I want to go. Even if that place doesn’t exist, even if it’s in a different time. Like I said, magic. I only have the one, though, and I can’t come back once I go, so I have to make sure that I’m ready first. I’ve had this pill for two years now, but I think I’m finally ready. I got all my bills paid off. I don’t want to leave owing money to someone; that wouldn’t be right. Well, there are those traffic tickets, but those don’t count. I don’t mind leaving the traffic tickets unpaid. Fuck the police, I always say.
The only thing left is to settle on where I want to go. I have it narrowed down to the beach as a kid, with my parents, Willy Wonka’s factory as Charlie, starting at the beginning of the movie, or the 100 Acre Wood as Christopher Robin. It’s a difficult decision. I think it would be really fun to live in a cartoon world, but then the novelty would eventually wear off. If I was Charlie, I could own the chocolate factory forever. That seems promising, because if I start to get bored I could just think up some new candies and make those, or maybe even start a TV show with the Oompa Loompas. We could be famous.
But then, if I went back to my childhood at the beach, I would get to see my parents again. I miss them. The problem with that is that it would eventually lead to all the bad stuff. But it would also lead to me getting the pill again, and I could just repeat the process and go on like that forever. Or if it turned out that I changed my mind, I could do something different the next time around. This is definitely the safe bet. Except for all the bad stuff. That’s the only problem with Option A.
So, I guess it really comes down to the question of which matters more to me: seeing my parents again, running a candy factory, or living in a cartoon world? When I think of it that way, Winnie the Pooh is out. I can still watch cartoons in either of the other two places, and the chocolate factory is almost like a cartoon anyway. So, I have to decide between going back to my childhood to start over, or being Charlie from the chocolate factory. This is really tough.
I’m going to do it. I have to. I can’t pass up on the chance to see my parents again. If it doesn’t seem worth it, I’ll go to the chocolate factory on my next go-around. I made it through the bad stuff once, so I should be able to survive it twice. Now I just have to swallow the pill.
I swallowed the pill.
Nothing happened. How long is this supposed to take? I had imagined that it would happen instantly, but I guess that’s not really how pills work. It was silly of me to think that way. I feel funny. Look at the floor. The tiles are so interesting. Some of them are yellow. Some of them are wet. The water is yellow, too!
Whoa! Almost fell down, there. I guess it is getting late; I should probably already be in bed. Wait, the pill. I need to stay dressed, ready to go. I’ll be at the beach soon. Oh, wow. I do need to lay down, though. Maybe I’ll just go take a nap. When I wake up, I should be at the beach. That will be nice.
This bed is so nice. I love my bed. I love sleeping. Hmmm.