In Andy Rooney’s cluttered office, his head sits suspended in a small tank of translucent jelly.
ANDY: I don’t get out much these days, especially since I died and was forcibly reanimated by CBS. I spend most of my days here in the compound. It’s not so bad, but you’d think with all the slaves CBS-JESUSNET owns they’d be able to get some decent bagels in here.
These days, only the albino mole people remember how to make a good bagel, so I took a ride to their vast underground Gigamarket to pick up a few. I got lost immediately, and looked around for one of those talking internet-enabled dogs. I guess they were all hanging around a fire hydrant somewhere. (Not that fire exists anymore, now that all our oxygen has been sucked into space). And speaking of space, they were playing that terrible “bowel-core” music. I don’t know about you, but any music with frequencies that make people defecate uncontrollably isn’t really music in my book.
Anyway, after all that, it turned out the express line — the one with the time machine that skips ahead to when you’re done waiting — was out of order. I wonder why they can’t use another time machine to send the broken one into the past, before it broke? I would have asked one of those internet dogs, if I could find one.
I think next time I need a good bagel, I’ll just brave the zombie militias and buy it on the black market. It may be dangerous, but hey, at least the lines are short. And if I get lucky, maybe one of them will finally kill me.
Unless, of course, CBS allows me to die a natural death. They let Whoopi Goldberg’s head die last year, so why not me? Maybe my ratings are too low.
V/T: 60 Minutes stopwatch.