Three Wishes

The Captain got me thinking about realism and human nature. That’s sort of his thing, after all. Stay with me on this, because I… actually don’t have a point to make at all.

I finally saw Cloverfield and had to talk to the Captain about it (he always has a lot to say about movies). I got to talking about how I always liked the fake news coverage in disaster flicks and how I’d like to see more of that kind of thing. I said Cloverfield 2 should just be two guys sitting on their couch, flipping through channels. The Captain asserted that the media wouldn’t even know how to react to something like a giant monster attacking New York City.

“Giant space monster attacking New York. That trumps all. There’s nothing in your journalism career that could prepare you for that. You would just cover the news for four days straight until you dropped dead.”

I said that if you turned to CNN, they wouldn’t even be covering it because it would be so groundbreaking that even the anchors would be glued to the television, watching the boys over at FOX News. That would be the ultimate irony. The Captain said that FOX News would just blame the monster attack on gay immigrants. Touche, Captain.

Somehow this led us into a metaphysical discussion of the monkey’s paw (I don’t know, this is how conversations go with the Captain) and how it basically punishes you for your selfish desires.

How would someone probably respond to a fantastic situation in real life? How would you really react if you were caught up in a giant monster attack on New York City? How would you react if someone gave you a monkey’s paw and told you that you had three wishes but warned you to be careful what you wish for?

In this case, if someone came to possess the monkey’s paw, they would simply be skeptical and sarcastic, using one wish as a “test wish.”

Realistically, you would. You would say, “Uh-huh. Monkey’s paw. Yeah, right. Three wishes? Why does a monkey’s paw only have three fingers? Okay, fine. Ooooooh, what should I wish for. Oooh.”

So you do a test wish, just to see if it really works.

"I wish for twenty bucks to appear in my pocket."

"Wow, a twenty!" Oh, and look--it has a phone number on it. You call it up, and a sexy voice answers, and you tell her how you got her number, and she laughs and thinks it's a cute line. She agrees to meet, hoping to find out how you "really" got her number--did she give it out and forget about you? She feels slightly guilty at that possibility, and feels obligated to cut you some slack, and before you know it you're doing body shots of tequila at a bar with country music playing at the highest possible decibel level.

You go home and she gives you herpes. Because really, what did you expect from a girl who would go all the way with someone who told her they got her number from a twenty dollar bill they used a monkey's paw to wish for. Besides, she's the type who would be taken in by morons like you who would waste an entire wish on twenty bucks.

At any rate, sleeping with a slut like that wasn't part of the wish, it was your choice, you selfish, horny bastard! Yeah, so the monkey's paw gave you her phone number, but you didn't have to sleep with her! Now you have herpes. And two more wishes. You proved that it works. I hope you're happy. Dick.

So you think of a second wish, worded in such a plain language as not to be warped in a cruel, monkey's-paw manner.

"I wish to make enough to be able to live solely off of my compound interest."

How can that screw you over?

Your investments are guaranteed only to thrive for the rest of your life, which would disrupt the ebb-and-flow chaotic nature of capitalism and the business world. But the stock market couldn't collapse, nor the economy, or else you wouldn't be able to live off of your own compound interest. So the consequences can't be that sinister and far-reaching. You’re saved by a paradox!

So maybe it redefines how you "live" off of that money... meaning that you don't generate more revenue, you simply have your requirements reduced in a horrific manner. Maybe your plane crashes and you and the monkey's paw are alone on an island, "surviving" on nothing because you didn't actually have any compound interest to begin with! You just made the foolish assumption that the monkey's paw would go to the trouble of doing all the paperwork for you retroactively!

Now you're stranded on an island and you have herpes.

One wish left. Ass.