Shortly after your death this Friday, many surprising secrets of the afterlife will be revealed to you. It’s not too late to begin praying to the ants.
You discover that your best friend is a man trapped in a woman’s body. You owe it to him to grab a butcher knife and start carving until you get that man out.
The entire Southern region of the U.S. will fall in love with you overnight when you accidentally win three consecutive stock-car races.
Your favorite snack cake contains only four parts per million of radioactive material. Eat a quarter-million of those cakes.
Everyone will laugh at the comeuppance you receive when Joan Jett storms into your house, breaks every bone in your body, and steals your girlfriend.
The barren landscape of a shattered marriage will stare you in the face this week when the Monday Night Football announcers fail in their attempts to keep your naked spouse off-camera.
Awkwardness ensues when the ghost of Bob Hope materializes in your office and protests drunkenly that he is not, in fact, dead.
You will cry because you have no shoes, until you meet a man who has no feet. Then you will laugh your ass off.
You become the butt of all the office jokes this week when you forget to compensate for windage during your presidential assassination attempt.
Do not hide your light under a bushel. Douse yourself with kerosene and immolate yourself in public.
An error in translation while travelling results in a delightful, surprise camel-sex escapade.
The adventure novels of Jack London inspire you to move to Alaska, tie yourself to a sled, and demand a whipping.
