It’s the future. It’s finally here, the year 2052.
Growing up on a small farm in rural Connecticut, I once dreamed of what the future might contain. I pictured a world of limitless possibilities, of sustainable energy and gleaming gadgets.
The world was so ripe with prospect.
And yet, sitting here in my corn office, resting upon my favorite corn chair, I feel that something along the way has gone horribly wrong.
This can’t be what the future was supposed to hold: eating corn for every meal, powering our cities with corn biofuel. I went down to Corn Walmart the other day and asked for plastic cups.
They had none; instead, their corn shelves were brimming with corn.
Yesterday, my father and sister got into a car accident; they were both killed instantly.
Their car was made of corn. I read in the cornpaper today of an earthquake in San Francisco; thousands of people died, buried underneath the wreckage of their corn homes. Corn isn’t meant to be used in this way; it is not an adequate building material.
Why am I the only one who sees the truth? Every new album, every movie and song: all of it corn.
Children grow up reading stories about corn, they sing corn rhymes and play corn games. All I can do is look back upon the days when everything wasn’t corn with a sad nostalgia. That time has long since passed… I walk among the corn graves of my family and weep corn tears, and yearn for a new future without corn.
