World War P

Have you ever heard the phrase “I am actually dumber having listened to that”? It got me to thinking…

And wouldn’t you know it, I have a great idea for a story just as I undo my fly to pee. I can’t tell you the number of times that I’ve had some brilliant idea only to see it slip away while I try and get to my computer to write it down. Ok, I admit that ‘brilliant’ might be an overstatement but you get my drift.

As I start to pee it comes to me. A virus that is transmitted by words. It attacks the victim’s IQ instead of their flesh. If you listen to someone who is infected you find yourself literally getting dumber. People who are infected don’t know they are carriers; they just walk around spewing stupid thoughts.

I am getting excited by the plot but I also noticed that I am still peeing and my stream is steadier than ever.

The virus can start with the mentally handicapped. I can barely contain myself, I will call it World War T. The T standing for Tards. Politically incorrect I realize but when the masses realize that something is terribly wrong all concern for the infected disappears. Plagues tend to bring out the worst in people.

I look down and noticed my toilet is almost half filled with urine. Amazing. I’ve never peed like this is my life.

This could be the premise I’ve waited for all my life!

Why can’t I stop peeing so I can write this down?!

It takes years until some intrepid scientist figures out that humanity is truly at risk. Ironically college campuses become ground zero for transmitting the virus given the large number of dumbass professors teaching revised world history and believing a socialistic economy can ever work. Two prominent MSNBC talk show hosts have to be removed when it’s discovered that their IQs have fallen to 85 (from 95) and they risked infecting dozens of others who still watched their programs.

This could be my Atlas Shrugged! My social manifesto.

The toilet only has another inch until it starts to overflow. I try to concentrate on WWT but I am starting to get a little nervous. The urine shows no sign of stopping and I am running out of toilet. I try to stop peeing to no avail. If anything, the flow is getting stronger.

I need a plan. Looking around the cramped bathroom I realize my only recourse is to pee in the sink.

What was I saying about the virus? Something about it being spread by weenie college professors?

I try to pinch off the flow of urine as I make the move from the toilet to the sink but my dick is having none of it. Pee goes flying everywhere as I unsuccessfully try to squeeze down and disable the plumbing. Finally, after briefly redecorating the walls and towels I am finally peeing in the sink.

Finally the government has to act to stop the intellectual epidemic. The evidence is in and it it’s not good news. Almost half the population is infected and every time they interact things get worse. People are getting dumber and dumber. Ratings for reality TV shows are soaring.

How much can someone pee before they die? My stomach is getting concave and I am starting to feel a bit dehydrated.

The inner cities are already lost and even in the suburbs many people are only communicating through rude emoticons. Libraries are ghost towns and massive numbers of people are congregating at sports stadiums for no apparent reason. Dogs and cats … living together.

Quarantine is the only answer. What troops remain force the population into long lines and then individually ask people a simple question; “Do you think college should be free to all?” Those that answer “Yes” are obviously contaminated and are shipped away to internment camps until a cure is found.

I need to think of a great ending but I can‘t stop peeing. Is this the price that other authors have had to pay for their breakout novel? If so I’ve never heard of the phenomenon.

How do you stop a virus that is transmitted by people talking shit?

How do you stop peeing when you feel your very life exiting through your dick?

Are the two somehow connected?

Is … there … a … cure…?

My head begins to swim. My aim grows less steady and I realize I am peeing on the mirror. I catch a glimpse and realize how dim-witted I look.

Blackness dances at the edge of my vision. I feel the warmness of my pee start to soak into my pants and shirt. Just as I slip into unconsciousness I realize I am Patient Zero.

World War T has begun.