In 2081, the world had finally reached universal peace. No longer was there any fast-food signs. Everyone was considered a celebrity. And of course, there were no wars or any form of division either. Everyone was considered a “POOPE-Y!”. The name came from the ingenious visionary, Sir Alfred Hubert “McSweaty” Pants, which meant a Previous-Obituary-Of-Planet-Earth-Yuck!. Incidentally, he also thought it would be a nice touch to a perfect utopia if everyone could change their name. “Laughter and the lack of it,” he prophetically said, “is the reason this world is so crummy. Smile booger-butts!” With that, everyone changed their name. Jeffrey Aldershot became Jeffie-Heffie-Bo-Bo-Bestie. Jessica Kraszuski became Jub Jub Krazy Kraze and so on.
In the perfect world, with such wild names, laughter was inescapable. It was part of McSweaty Pants five step plane for a utopia. The first, and perhaps most important way to establish a utopia was to have everyone sit in a dark room for two weeks together with no light. To pack some six billion pack-rats into a rat cage, all you had to do was promise world peace. McSweaty Pants said, “We’re all part of the diaspora; we migrated from paradise long time ago. If you want it back, all you gotta do is get in this hole here.” Promise peace, money, happiness and love, and the world comes running. It really does.
Now, now. Critics of McSweaty Pants had the same wonders too. “How is it even feasible that all people would be able to fit somewhere? What would they eat? There would be so much violence, bloodshed, confl…”. Stupidity, it seems, knows no bounds; or when to shut up. For it is the intelligent man who says nothing so he tries everything. McSweaty Pants did not have that problem; this hole scheme was the first thing he tried. He was neither a boy, nor an idiot. In fact, he was the smartest eight-year-old this world has ever known. Unlike adults, he was not forsaken. He, like every child, was a genius, a savant, an artist.
However the trouble was remaining these same people in the Old World. All the adults prior to the utopia had listened to the lectures that occurred time and time again that the world does not work this way and that way. “Money doesn’t grow on trees. No cookies before dinner,” and so on. Parents tell what children should and shouldn’t do.
McSweaty pants was raised by the world; he had been an orphan. Unlike many children who begin by loving their parents then rarely forgiving them, McSweaty Pants had seen the world for how it was: full of oceans and hypocrisy. McSweaty Pants had seen the problems, realized the suffering, cherished the pain and even understood that the tooth fairy was not real, all between the ages of eight and eight and a half. He did not let his imagination be stifled by the squabbling of old men who had forgotten that the world had been spinning for some 4.5 billion years, and that just because they were old, decrepit, worn out, crestfallen, melancholic, it didn’t mean everyone else had to be. For McSweaty Pants, adults were just children with mustaches, big bellies, and the corruption of the world.
It was Socrates who said, “an honest man is always a child”, and McSweaty Pants was gosh darn honest. He told the world how it was. There was too much division, too much violence, and too much religion (he said he was born a human, not knowing anything. People told him God existed soon afterward. “Baloney,” he said. “So did the Boogie man when you told me”). In dramatically diminutive amounts there was too little friendships, too little love (he was not afraid to use this word yet – nor is anyone in Fr-uitopia nowadays), and too little care. The world was, as he said, “Crappp-shit.” He didn’t like swearing, but sometimes, words just don’t have enough meaning on their own. Sometimes, you have to let the shit hit the fan, so to speak.
Crappp-shit is the most common word in Fr-uitopia.
Regardless of the adults, the second part of the plan was to provide food and water, the bare necessities, for everyone on the second day. This would be done after light was provided to the people. It would be dim but provide enough light to outline the silhouettes of other people. The radiance was no greater than a room full of fireflies dancing in the nights sky. According to the plan, which was composed with two shades of yellow and green crayon on a napkin, the food would then be dropped in. This would be initiated through timed mechanisms that released the canisters of food. From the sky, “goods and sweets, mostly sweets” would rain. This would create unity between the people, for who could do wrong with candy canes pouring endlessly, truffles bouncing off the dimly lit walls, and more chocolate than Willy-Wonka’s could ever dream. Right, no one.
The third part of the plan, McSweaty Pants realized was a tough one. He had to play a trick on the 6.7 billion people packed comfortably in a container bigger than Texas. He got a large voice recorder to go off on the seventh day, “Today is the seventh day. It is the day of rest. I have provided food for you, created light. You are now in Eden, Paradise, Sanctuary, Aaru, Nirvana, Val Halla, Asura, Samsara, Tian, Zion, Bhuva Loka, Swarga Loka, Mahar Loka, Jana Loka, Tapa Loka, Satya Loka, Firdaus, Jannah, Deva Loka, Shamayim, Sheol, Heaven, Raquie, Shehaqim, Machen, Machon, Zebul, Araboth, Omeyoca, Autoia, Devachan, and wherever you want to be. This is the best-place-you-could-ever-be, and I brought you here to live in it. Don’t screw it up, nilly-willies! Now rest, or eat – you can do as you please.”
Funny though, when McSweaty Pants was drafting this speech up, he did believe there was an Heaven, a Nirvana, a happy place or whatever. To him, it was in humanity, in the smile that another person could give you if you held the door open for them, the laughter someone gets when rolling around in the grass without a care for how dirty there jeans get, and for accomplishing something great, like writing the last line of a speech that would change the world. It wasn’t Gettysburg Address, but it was enough, he thought. And it was.
“Now rest, or eat – you can do as you please.”
On this seventh day, an uproar was heard. Everyone immediately threw down their previous beliefs, and began worshiping that voice. “Proof! Proof! At last. My God exists,” one man said. “Your God?” Another man questioned. “That was my concept of Heaven he mentioned. So it is my God too then.” “Mine too.” Mine too.” On and on. Throughout the container, people were enjoined in agreeing that it was their god just as much as another. Even atheists chuckled with the fact it was their “god” too. With that, more food fell: candies again, because the humans were being so sweet.
From here, the fourth plan had already set into motion. While the whole of humanity was sucking on their lollipops, having their cakes and eating them too, trees sprouted from beneath their glucose-saturated fingers and sugar-coated toes. These were the new Instant-Growth trees that did one of two things: provide continual supply of oxygen and had money growing from their branches. Then the voice said, “Here are my commandments, the two of them. Everyone is now rich, so no one is poor. Everyone is equal in wealth and religion. Everyone is human. Everyone needs oxygen. So breath, in and out, in and out. Those are the two commandments. Enjoy, because life is but a few breaths; some shorter, some longer, some not at all.”
How is it that trees were able to grow both instantly and with money at their finger tips? Well, this is because, the trees did not actually have money on them. What currency would unite all nationalities? None. McSweaty Pants knew this. Instead, the leaves were green, shaped in the form of a square, and with the dimmed lighting, the illusion of money was created. Ka-ching. So people could no longer cash in more than others, judging people by their weight of gold rather than their weight of heart.
Then, on the last day of the second week, the final plan set into motion. With regular amounts of food being provided, with plants supporting every which way, with water falling graciously, with a universal religion and lack thereof, with oxygen being ensured, the doors to the container bulged open. Before they did however, the voice said, “I now open the doors to Fr-uitopia, the New World. Life begins today. Death begins tomorrow. Remember the rules I have taught, because, world peace has been achieved. We shall continue for the children; the pillars which all the names of heaven rest on.” With that, the doors opened, and a new day had begun.
On the first day of Fr-uitopia, humanity had created a contained world. On the second day, the foods were fruitful and multiplied, licorice becoming the common substitute for rice. On the seventh day, paradise didn’t rest; it united everyone. On the eighth day, trees sprouted with money. On the thirteenth day, the world was finally ready for the seven billion odd days until the sun would blow up.