Gleibonics by Ben Gleib

“The Procrastinator’s Big Deadline”

Considering that the world is ending in just 22 short days, it seems that everyone is taking it quite well. I mean you’d think there would be more of a fuss over the impending doom of existence as we know it. Maybe people don’t want the end of the world to alter the way they normally live their lives or something. But that’s not the way I look at it.

There is a vast array of things I want to do before I die, in 22 short days. I’m growing sad that I’m not going to be able to accomplish them all. Some may seem more important than others, but all equally significant in my eyes.
I may never get the chance to fulfill my career goal of becoming an international porn star by the name of Donnie Dang. I may never get the chance to market my very bendable, plastic Donnie Dang action figure.

My research may never be completed, and the world will never get to take advantage of the first ever paper airplane that can actually carry passengers. It would have revolutionized the entire paper travel industry, but will now have to go unseen forever.

I have also been working on creating a tiny machine that people can carry around with them, and utilizing what I call “digital” technology, they can speak to other people around the world. I planned on calling this invention “wireless pocket machine phones.” The greatest thing about these “pocket machine phones” would have been that people would look really cool when using them in public places like restaurants, and movie theaters. Also, I just have a feeling that these “machines” would make people better drivers.

I’ve always wanted to catch a six-pound sea bass. I’ve caught a five-pounder and a seven-pounder before, but somehow it just never seemed right. I always wanted to win a gold medal in that stupid ass Olympic sport “curling,” just so I could prove that it takes no skill at all. I want to dunk a basketball just once, without having my Dad lift me up so I can do it. Mostly because I think the thrill would be great, and because it’s getting tough on my Dad’s back.

I always dreamed of winning the Pulitzer prize for journalism, then writing an expose on how the committee was totally unjustified in giving me the award, and that story being so good that I’d win another Pulitzer. Definitely no time left to achieve that one, but damn it, I tried.

I’m almost done writing my screenplay that I believe would have been the greatest love story ever told. It’s about these two young people who meet on a big unsinkable ship and fall in love, but the ship sinks and one of them dies. I’ll probably set it in the old days, just for effect. Mostly because people from the old days were overly dramatic and spoke in lame dialogue, so my script would be fitting. I’d probably have the title song be sung by any pompous French Canadian singer who beats her chest like a monkey when she sings, that I can find. So far, no one has turned up.

I never got to live for one year on nothing but graham crackers and French dressing, but I’m okay with that one because I know, deep down, that I could have done it. I also had hoped I’d get the opportunity once to sing so beautifully that it would make an entire room of kindergarteners cry. I still can hopefully get that one done.

I always wanted to become a farmer somewhere in the midwest, but have infertile soil, and have no businesses buy my crop, so I could live on government subsidies. Along those lines, I also wanted to move to the inner-city, have ten or fifteen babies that I can’t support, and do my part to help drain the welfare system. I would also probably use very little of the money I get for each baby to actually raise the baby, and would instead use it to drink and buy nice, fashionable clothes. Also, we’re never going to get to collect social security. Although, that probably would have been the same even if we were to live to retirement age.

Another major goal I’ve had that will have to go unfulfilled is my big plan for “word definition reversal.” Basically, there are certain words that I thought would be fun to switch meanings of, just because it would be fun to confuse people. You would here sentences like, “I hope you enjoyed your dessert, sir, are you ready for the main course?” or “I forgot to walk my boss today, but my dog said I could go home early.” (In the last example, the words switched were “today” and “early,” the sentence just existed in a world where our bosses are our pets, and our pets are our employers.)

It’s just another unfulfilled goal of mine. Other words that would be fun to switch meanings of are good and evil, pontoon and kayak, Visa and Mastercard, and my favorite, paper and plastic. “Hey, I asked for plastic bags…oh, I see what you’re doing there! Very clever!”

Some other things I’ll never get to do are: invent a screensaver that looks exactly like the screen you were just working on; clone a human being using only styrofoam, cupcakes and the will to succeed; change my name to P.J. McStaplerstaff, or Phil Philerston; purchase a small island as an impulse buy, and then forget I bought it, never even opening the wrapping; and finally, creating peace on earth.

That one I especially wanted to accomplish, because if I created peace on earth, I’d be revered as some sort of emperor, and could make people do whatever I wanted. And if they didn’t, I’d just bomb them or something. “Long Live Emperor Phil Philerston!” they would cheer. Doesn’t that have a ring to it? I guess it will have to remain a dream.

The only thing that has kept me from complete depression over this whole “end of universe” thing is that despite all these lofty aspirations, my life’s greatest goal has already been achieved. A while back I discovered a little thing known as “electricity.” While it hasn’t had quite the impact I had hoped, it still is a noticeable achievement. Every time I look at the illuminated skyline of a busy city after nightfall, I can’t help but feel a sense of inner-warmth and accomplishment, and I know that I will be remembered until the end of time. All three weeks of it.