New York, 3/30/2020 (Note the proper way to write the date!)
Dear Friends Across The Pond,
Like you, I am holed up in my flat for the remainder of this pandemic. But unlike my thousands of Facebook friends, millions of followers and three loyal readers of this letter, I am thrilled by this situation!
That’s right. I’m loving this forced isolation!
After seeing the 2016 film Passengers starting Jennifer Lawrence and Chris Pratt, I’ve had this running fantasy: What would life be like if it was just me and a gorgeous, athletic, loving woman, stranded alone, for the rest of our lives?
That’s the premise of Passengers. Pratt and Lawrence are in suspended animation on the space ship Avalon, in transport to a new planet, Homestead II. Skip the details and the small asteroid that destroys one of the onboard computers … Pratt and Lawrence are awoken 90 years too early. Alone.
There are thousands of other passengers on the ship, but they are all asleep, in pods. Kinda creepy, I know. But let’s get back to the headline. A young, healthy, athletic, gorgeous couple are alone in a flying hotel, with all amenities and needs taken care of.
Fancy restaurants served by robot waiters. All the booze they could ever drink, served by a chatty robot bartender. They have no outside concerns … no bills, no taxes, no work, no parents, no social media, no interlopers … just Pratt and Lawrence. And they can make love all the time. Which they do.
Ok, there’s some plot twists. The ship is gonna blow up if they don’t dump the nuclear core and there’s something blocking the hole where the core needs to eject. (I’m not making sexual references here. I’m just trying to dumb down the tech speak.) So the stakes are high.
They could die, along with thousands of other sleepers, and the fate of human colonization of Homestead II is in jeopardy! But sure enough, they clear the blockage and they are bonded even closer as a couple and they can screw again, forever, with wild abandon.
And that’s exactly where I’m at right now. The stakes are high. We ain’t going out and nobody’s coming in. I’ve got provisions and toilet paper to last months. I’ve turned off social media and I’m not watching the news. There’s nothing to do in here but eat, drink, and make love. And my luck, I’m stuck in here with a gorgeous, athletic, loving woman!
So … why am I wasting my time writing to you? Hold on Honey … I’ll be right there!
Letter from America, part 13: Words with an ‘F’
Letter from America, part twelve: Nostalgic fiction and fictional nostalgia
Letter from America, part eleven: I went to camp with Jeffrey Epstein
Letter from America, part ten: Yesterday, yesterday
Letter from America, part nine: Where are your balls, Theresa May?
Letter from America, part eight: Bohemian Rocketman
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