I saved all the lives in the solar system
of another dimension from several millennia ago.
Am I a hero?
To the beings of that solar system I certainly am.
Thousands of years later, they still celebrate Dean Day!
But to be fair, I only did
what anyone with a trans-dimensional teleporter
and time-displacement device would’ve done.
The photon blaster came in handy too.
But I “borrowed” that from the alien cyborg assassin
from the future who tried to thwart my plans to exist.
Had he not tried to destroy me on a sub-molecular level,
I never would’ve devised a way to save
my newfound friends in the Seventh Solar System
of the Devonian Dimension.
I used plutonium and a handheld mirror
to deftly deflect the assassin’s blasts
and politely asked,
“Hey! Alien cyborg assassin from the future!
What’s the deal?”
He (it) curtly explained that
he (it) was sent back in time to annihilate me
for saving the life forces in the Seventh Solar System
of the Devonian Dimension.
I said I’d never done that.
He (it) said I hadn’t done that yet.
But that I would.
I emphasized how I would never do that,
because I had never even heard of
the Seventh Solar System of the Devonian Dimension.
He (it) must’ve felt sure he’d (it’d)
revoke my membership in the Living Beings Club,
because he (it) continued to tell me everything,
saying that I probably never heard of them,
because they became extinct several thousands of years ago.
So I re-emphasized why it would be silly of me
to be the one who would save them.
I then mentioned that my neighbor Rex
might’ve heard about them,
because he drinks himself silly on Friday nights
and spouts about all sorts of strange places.
The cyborg assassin from the future thanked me
and blasted Rex out of existence
on a sub-molecular level
with his (its) handy-dandy photon laser.
As the cyborg gazed
at the evaporating remains of my neighbor,
I skewered his (its) heart (power source) with a pitchfork.
And then I used his (its) photon laser to retire him (it)
from the time-traveling killer-for-hire business for good.
Noticing the few fleeting ashes that used to be Rex,
I remembered that the strange places
of which he chattered when inebriated
were The Grand Ole Opry and Branson.
I’ve never been to either of those places.
So perhaps I inadvertently caused
the horrific death of my neighbor Rex,
but I saved all the lives in the solar system
of another dimension from several millennia ago.
Besides, Rex never recycled.
And I know that doesn’t mean he should be blasted
out of existence on a sub-molecular level.
But I’ll go back in time and save him next week.
Or the week thereafter.
I wouldn’t mind enjoying a quiet weekend or two.
Am I a hero?
To the beings of that solar system I certainly am.
Thousands of years later, they still celebrate Dean Day!
But to be fair, I only did
what anyone with a trans-dimensional teleporter
and time-displacement device would’ve done.
The photon blaster came in handy too.
But I “borrowed” that from the alien cyborg assassin
from the future who tried to thwart my plans to exist.
Had he not tried to destroy me on a sub-molecular level,
I never would’ve devised a way to save
my newfound friends in the Seventh Solar System
of the Devonian Dimension.
I used plutonium and a handheld mirror
to deftly deflect the assassin’s blasts
and politely asked,
“Hey! Alien cyborg assassin from the future!
What’s the deal?”
He (it) curtly explained that
he (it) was sent back in time to annihilate me
for saving the life forces in the Seventh Solar System
of the Devonian Dimension.
I said I’d never done that.
He (it) said I hadn’t done that yet.
But that I would.
I emphasized how I would never do that,
because I had never even heard of
the Seventh Solar System of the Devonian Dimension.
He (it) must’ve felt sure he’d (it’d)
revoke my membership in the Living Beings Club,
because he (it) continued to tell me everything,
saying that I probably never heard of them,
because they became extinct several thousands of years ago.
So I re-emphasized why it would be silly of me
to be the one who would save them.
I then mentioned that my neighbor Rex
might’ve heard about them,
because he drinks himself silly on Friday nights
and spouts about all sorts of strange places.
The cyborg assassin from the future thanked me
and blasted Rex out of existence
on a sub-molecular level
with his (its) handy-dandy photon laser.
As the cyborg gazed
at the evaporating remains of my neighbor,
I skewered his (its) heart (power source) with a pitchfork.
And then I used his (its) photon laser to retire him (it)
from the time-traveling killer-for-hire business for good.
Noticing the few fleeting ashes that used to be Rex,
I remembered that the strange places
of which he chattered when inebriated
were The Grand Ole Opry and Branson.
I’ve never been to either of those places.
So perhaps I inadvertently caused
the horrific death of my neighbor Rex,
but I saved all the lives in the solar system
of another dimension from several millennia ago.
Besides, Rex never recycled.
And I know that doesn’t mean he should be blasted
out of existence on a sub-molecular level.
But I’ll go back in time and save him next week.
Or the week thereafter.
I wouldn’t mind enjoying a quiet weekend or two.
Jerry Seinfeld:
Sometimes the road less traveled
is less traveled for a reason.
George Carlin:
Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?
Dean Burkey:
Body piercing’s a strange way to smuggle paperclips.
Mitch Hedberg:
I want to ride in a cold air balloon.
“This isn’t going anywhere!”
Steven Wright:
If the pen is mightier than the sword;
in a duel, I’ll let you have the pen!
