I’m fine, I just need a sip of water. Can I do that without sounding the climate-change alarms? There are four seasons, you guys. Summer’s the hot one. Always has been. I’m just a little thirsty. And, like, a teeny bit dizzy.
You can split hairs all you want with statistics about temperatures steadily rising each year, or you can spare me the factual histrionics and start enjoying a little summer fun. I’m having such a good time that my head’s actually pounding with the pulse of summer. Really pounding.
That’s strange, I actually feel kind of cold all of a sudden—might go so far as to say I have the chills. That doesn’t sound much like global “warming,” does it? Try explaining that with one of your scientific facts backed by The United Nations Intergovernmental Panel On Climate Change.
I suppose you’ll figure out a way to link my slurred speech to climate change, too. Sorry if you can’t understand me all of a sudden. Summer relaxes me. All of me, including my lips and tongue.
The colors in the summer sky are so pretty, aren’t they? Blue and orange and polka-dotted. Such a perfect backdrop for all those majestic winged bison. They’re so beautiful, especially that one my mom is riding. Hi Mommy! I see you up there. I see you, Mommy.
Oh here we go, now I’m in for it. I should’ve kept that little hallucination to myself. I’m sure an innocent heat vision is yet another red flag in climate-conspiracy land. I just keep handing you more straws to grasp at.
Go ahead and call 911 if you’re so worried about me lying here on the ground. Fine by me. If my skin’s sooooooo pale and clammy and my body is sooooooo limp, then by all means, let’s continue this global warming charade and head to the hospital. I’ll play along.
I hear the sirens approaching now. I hope all that noise pollution doesn’t hurt your precious “ozone layer.” That stratospheric unicorn you love to yammer on about.
Let me guess, everyone in this ambulance is on the global warming bandwagon, too. I love how theatrically you guys are trying to make your point, yelling “Clear!” and jolting my chest with those little paddles. A little much, don’t you think.
I’ll be a sport, see, look I’m frothing at the mouth now. Uh-oh, I’m starting to shake, here comes a seizure, you guys. No one had heat-induced, mouth-frothing seizures like these 400 years ago, right?
Better strap me down and put something in my mouth so I don’t swallow my tongue. The last thing I want to do is fuel your fire for some new climate-related tongue-swallowing conspiracy theory.
Weird, looks like my vitals are flatlining; the machine’s making that dying sound. Man, if only people stopped using cans of hairspray this wouldn’t be happening.
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This piece was originally published on McSweeney’s Internet Tendency.