Cartoons were the first drugs of choice in my childhood to escape the burnt out buildings and other social ills in The South Bronx, as it was in a past millennium.
I’m sending this message from the year 2177 thanks to an
overdose of Mass Media.
I’ve been cloned from DNA found on my comic book collections
that survived a worldwide kill order of a president that believed superheroes
were part of Fake News.
After my brain was
uploaded with my Face Book profile and New York City report cards, I opened my
eyes and found myself dressed in a uniform straight from Star Trek.
I was scared because Hispanic crewmembers were always the
first to die by aliens.
And don’t forget African Americans.
The Advanced Beings that brought me back looked suspiciously
like the bigheaded ones in a Twilight Zone episode called To Serve Man where
aliens ate white people.
I never saw Puerto
Ricans or Mexicans or Obama in the episode.
They probably were eaten first along with Chinese about an
hour later.
I imagined one of the aliens groaning French and drooling
like Homer Simpson
The aliens didn’t want to eat my brains.
They wanted to know about America in the early part of the
21 Century.
Then the clone of Albert Einstein showed up to put me at
ease.
Tell them what you know, he said.
I know about a comedy on ABC about a Puerto Rican in prison.
I know television. Good-bye, 21 Century.
It’s been real
Art direction, photos and text by Daniel Angel Aponte
Dreamer
Copyrighted 2117 DAAD
1941 Germany
Acting on Intel, we positioned ourselves with rifles in the
woods as we waited for The Mad Man to pass by.
I stared through the sniper scope for hours and the bastard
never showed up.
Where is he? Hitler is supposed to be at this location at
this moment in history.
“ Gee, I hope nothing
happened to him”, said Albert Einstein with a deadpan look.
This has been the season finale of My Life As A Comic Book
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