The following is by David Cross. I found it at BobandDavid.com.
Letter From The Future
Hello, I am from the future. My name is Tully Spetertrench and I am writing from my home state of Baja California Mexico California. The year is 2218. I would normally just use my Teleporter 3000 ™, and simply hand-deliver the letter, but my teleporter got fucked up in the Not Enough Beer Riots of last quarter, so, here it is. I have mailed it to a MailBox Etc in the fall of 1998, but we all know how lame the Post Office is so who knows when it will eventually get there. I can't recall, and I don't feel like looking it up, but how expensive are stamps back then? Now they cost over two children apiece! Anyhoo, hello there. What about me? What's going on with me?
I woke up this morning and when I opened my eyes, I could barely believe the official headline that floated above my bed-like© pseudo-bed®™. It read, "Nigger Elected President!" Wow! This was truly historical. A black man was in the White House©.
Jason Nigger had actually won. Mr. Nigger was able to overcome an unfortunate and ironic last name to claim the seventh most powerful position in The United States Of America And Friends. Personally, I had rooted (as "voting" is now called) for Devry Ahmad, a pre-post-op transsexual, and scion of the wealthy Ahmad family. The Ahmads made their fortune in the artificial heart sauce business, creating over twenty different sauces for artificial hearts. I didn't mind Nigger, but I was swayed by Ahmads promise of a free immigrant for every true American citizen if elected. There are some things I'm looking forward to in this new administration. Ahmad seems pretty intent on un-freezing Paul McCartney and Wings, and his radical idea to literally re-invent the wheel is intriguing, if not wholly impractical.
I looked out of my window and saw that the snow had started to lightly fall on the artificial trees. Enough lollygagging around, It was time to go to workfun. I popped a few shower pills®™, put one of my penises (evolution!) in the penis scanner and left my space.
I work at the local Water®© Treatment Plant. Officially my title is Head Of Crybabies I guess I should explain. When the last source of fresh water was poisoned in 2078, the country instituted a bold, and exciting new plan to replenish our water supply. De-salinization of tears! So, after it became legal to clone immigrants, Senate Pro-Tem Wal-Mart (R-Texas) came upon the solution of torturing them and extracting their tears! Now water only costs 14 tap-dances!
When I got to my workfun station, my boss, Angela Lansbury's Cousin the Third told me that she needed to see me in her office. "You're orifice?" I asked, thereby fulfilling my pun quota of the day. "Very good", she replied, "but seriously, I need to see you in my office." I knew this day was coming, but still, I was caught off-guard. When I got to her office she motioned me over to her bed. I took off my jacket, put on a hat, and crawled under the covers. We had a couple of minutes of sanctioned sex, I filled out the forms, and then she fired me. Fortunately, I had a contingency plan for income. I collected my severance meal, walked over to Sir Banks-A-Lots, cashed out all my savings, and went home. When night came, I broke into my neighbors space, hopped in his teleporter and ported back to early 2001. I invested all of my savings in American flags made by Chinese prison labor (I also invested heavily in Chinese prison labor) and then ported back to my current time and space. I went to my bank account the next day - Viola! The old "Teleporter Switcharoo". I can't believe it took me that long to figure out something so obvious, and a clean, simple ending to this little story. I am truly sorry for deflating the ridiculous hopes that some science-fictiony types out there might have of someday being able to travel through time, but, seriously, if a time machine ever was really invented at some point in the future, wouldn't there be a record somewhere of people coming back to any point in time prior to right now? Of course somebody somewhere would have. Even if only to make some quick millions of dollars in the stock market or sports betting. Which means, either there never will be a time machine invented, ever, or the people of the earth killed themselves before one could be invented. It's probably the latter, and it probably happened shortly after World War Three (the great "Assassinate Saddam Hussein" public works project we are embarking on currently).