I was smoking a cigarette in the backyard after a
long day at work, when a man in a parachute
fell from the sky, right into the lilac bushes. I
tossed the cigarette and ran up to him. “Are you
okay?” I said. “I’m fine, just happy to get away
from the enemy,” he said. “The enemy? What
enemy?” I said. “The enemy otherwise known as
the mundane,” he said. “That’s peculiar,” I said.
“Be that as it may, the mundane has waged
merciless war on me and millions of my fellow
Americans for years,” he said. “Would you like
some water or lemonade? You’ve been through a
lot,” I said. “No, but do you happen to have a
helicopter? I’d like to make another jump,” he said.
“Another random jump to nowhere? What good
will that do?” I said. “It will do a lot of good. So
much good, that I will no longer feel absolute
pain,” he said. “Surely there are other ways to deal
with pain,” I said. “Do you have some whiskey and
cola?” the man said. “I’ve got a bottle or
two,” I said. “New plan,” he said, “we drink the
whiskey and cola and play darts on that maple
tree.” “Great idea!” I said, rushing for the drinks. I
was beginning to understand his war against
the mundane.