An old, desolate joke book.
“1001 Dad Jokes”, I read, my voice rough and coarse with radioactive dust tightly coating my throat. “Dad jokes…”, I begin, barely able to stifle the laughter. “Dad jokes. Did you just assume their gender? You trigglypuff?”, I yell out through tears of laughter, god damn, am I funny. Am I funny, am I good at these jokes or what? My hand desperately claws at the debris thinly covering the ground, clutching for air, like the man who can’t swim holding onto a razor not to drown.
“Assume their gender!”, I yell out, now hysterical, assuming fetal position to battle the tremors stabbing my abs from laughter. I fall over on my back, choking out the last tiddlywinks of air. A concrete ceiling graces my eyes. Intricate graffiti. Scribbles. Desperate cries of help. Bible verses.
“Assume their gender.” I’m wiping away tears. The year is 2067. The earth may be dead, reddit may be dead, but shitty transphobic jokes are far from deceased.