Fantasy

We're vegging out in the living room, watching TV. The trailer for the new Will Smith movie, I Am Legend, has just come on.

ROOMMATE: I heard that movie did really well at the box office.

ME: I heard it sucked.

ROOMMATE: Oh.

ME: But I'm going to watch it anyway.

ROOMMATE: Why?

ME: Because I'm a sucker for those "last man on earth" stories. You know, I've had this fantasy ever since I was a boy, about it being the end of the world and me being the only human alive, and there's all these zombies after me. And I'd be living inside a shopping mall, like in Dawn of the Dead. You know, eating all of the food in the deserted food court, wearing a brand new pair of Nikes every day, that kind of stuff. It'd be great. And I'd be really cut, too. I'd wear a bandana and do chin-ups for no good reason at all. And my weapon of choice would be a shotgun, because I enjoy combat from close-range and I love the drama of reloading your gun every five seconds as zombies claw their way towards you. Click-clack, BOOM! Y'know what I'm saying?

ROOMMATE: I have a similar yet very different fantasy. My fantasy is to be the last male on earth, and because of that, the fate of the human race would be in my hands. All of the women on the planet would form a very long line to my bedroom door, waiting to procreate with me.

ME: Shit dude, that fantasy is way better than mine!