Wish

By Raoul Suarez

It used to be profitable but now the business had to close down. The client base started to decline until it hit an all-time low. The old mortician packed his things and finally said goodbye to the funeral home that he had been working in for over three decades. It was time to find a new job. The transition will prove to be difficult.

The world has changed. It changed drastically. Overnight. Without warning. Suddenly, there was no need for professionals like him. The death toll started to decline. A very strange phenomenon that defied the natural order of things.

The town doctor sat in his swivel chair and shakily clenched his fist in utter dismay as the hospital started to fill up with patients day in and day out. Crowded rooms. The lack of beds. The shortage of supplies. A motley crue of people to treat. He will never run out of patients. He will always be on call. Day after day. Night after night.

The sleep-deprived police cannot stop the riots. The bullets would not work no matter how many shots they fired. The orders from above were ridiculous and did not help to ease the situation. The fat police chief helplessly watched the images in the news and swallowed a whole box of dumplings out of sheer frustration. The crowd kept on increasing in the town square and all sorts of cries filled the streets. The townspeople used to complain about the killings. Now, it seems like they all just want to die.

Old Sal picked up his mobile phone and called the president. He asked if something could be done about the problem, but the old man was despondent and was just uttering profanities. He did not give a rational reply. Sal heaved a sigh of disappointment and carefully opened his box of mushrooms. He decided to eat them all in one go. As the hallucinations started to kick in, he began talking to his imaginary purple hippopotamus friend about why he wished to just leave this world but there was no rest for the wicked. He laughed while he was shedding tears of sadness as his fears started to creep in. He would need to make up stories again in behalf of the government; believable lies that he can sell to the public. The purple hippopotamus just stood there grinning; like it always does. Where he gets his mushrooms, nobody really knows.

All this ruckus happened and came down hard because an elementary school kid made a foolish little wish; a not-so-bright plea to reduce the mortality rate to zero. The gods of this universe listened intently to her and unanimously agreed to grant her the desires of her heart. Everyone cannot die anymore. Immortality has dawned upon us all. It used to be just a dream. It turned out to be a nightmare.

The bald senator, who was a former police dog, had a hard time explaining the phenomenon to the obese general commanding the national police so he just blamed it on the faculty and students of the Maroon State University. It was always their fault anyway. The senator’s advocacy to bring back the death penalty had become futile. It was useless in this sort of situation. Out of frustration, he shot himself in the head five times with a 45-caliber handgun. The report of the gun echoed loudly in the bathroom. His brain did not splatter on the wall. Just his cold blood. He was flustered and perplexed to find out that he actually had no brain. They had to fix him back to his bald brainless self. It took quite a while but Dr. Bela’s reconstructive surgery methods can always do wonders. Well, as long as you have the money.

In the darkest depths of hell, the long-gone dictator laughed out loud at the plight of the country he used to plunder. His body had been buried in the Heroes Cemetery for quite some time now. Even after being separated from his mortal shell, he and his family were still able to hoodwink everyone. His wife still attends mass to pray for his soul until this very day. At one time, she even accidentally attended a mass for the victims of his regime. Lucky for the dictator, he was able to afford the luxury of death before all this happened. He was free from this godforsaken curse and he chuckled at the idea that the 15 billion that the Failhealth stole was still missing and unaccounted for.

Some people used to say that it will take an eternity to recover that loss. It used to be impossible. Well, it isn’t. Not anymore. We are immortals now. We have all the time in the world to investigate. We will figure it out.

Meanwhile, in the comforts of his humble abode, while the world was in turmoil, good old JPE turned off his television and wondered in amusement if he could still beat the competition by outliving them. He has been here since the start of creation after all, and he even keeps a score sheet of people who kicked the bucket before he did. He shrugged at the thought that the word “lifespan” had become obsolete. He whispered a short prayer, slowly closed his eyes, and started counting baby pterodactyls to sleep; hoping that maybe when he wakes up tomorrow, this was all just a dream.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this article are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

There is no war in Ba Sing Sei.