Curb Your Pandemic

VOL 1

REDDIT USER: ADAMPZI

CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

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s Larry David drove his car along the Los Angeles highway on a Friday evening, he reflected on how the year 2020 had taken such a drastic turn for the worse. When the New Year began, Larry was uncharacteristically optimistic: the Lakers basketball team was looking promising with Lebron joining, Trump was undergoing impeachment proceedings, and Amazon announced that it could deliver erectile dysfunction medication directly to one’s doorstep with prime membership two-day shipping. Larry smirked at the thought of how much potential 2020 had going for it.

Yet, this moment of happiness faded as the present-day reality crept back into Larry’s mind. He recollected how recent events had completely derailed his way of life and had left him feeling depressed and helpless; but mostly he was feeling really fucking bored because of the neverending parade of social events that he has been forced to attend. It was only the second week of February, and he had already attended a wedding, a bar mitzvah, a reverse-bar mitzvah (when the man gets demoted back to a boy), a gender reveal, and a rhinoplasty reveal. In fact, he was currently running late to a dinner party being hosted by his friends Jeff and Susie Greene.

In the past, Larry could easily finagle his way out of a party by claiming forgetfulness and self-ineptitude. However, his friends had technologically evolved. Instead of distributing save the date postcards, they were now using iPhone calendar invites that were being automatically RSVP’d.

Larry suspected that this was the work of that traitorous bitch Siri and tried in vain to change the setting on his phone, but he couldn’t remember his Apple ID password.

He thought the password was set to the safeword that he had used in his past sexual escapades – which was ‘Safeword123’. But it didn’t work.

Saddened by the twist of fates that have led him to yet another dinner party this evening, Larry concentrated on the road ahead and tried to enjoy these last moments of peace and quiet. He had exited the highway and was weaving through a suburban neighborhood as he arrived at a stop sign just one block away from Jeff and Susie’s home. He was already running late and faced an inevitable shellacking, but he paused for a moment to admire the night sky that gleamed through his windshield.

It was unlike the typical metropolitan sky that hung over LA, darkened by endless light pollution. Instead, tonight’s sky was inexplicably purified of any interference, 1

CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

enabling an abyss of stars to shimmer and display their radiance. The visual brought on nostalgia for Larry. Ever since he was a child, he had dreamed of one-day leaving earth and colonizing another planet. Not for glory, but as a means to avoid other people and find solitude. He lamented that interstellar travel was still a few years away and that he could not escape the repetitive conversations and meaningless arguments that were ahead of him.

Suddenly, a bolt of light flashed across the night sky – it was a shooting star that burned brilliantly against the backdrop of darkness. Larry got out of his car and held his breath as he watched it travel across his field of vision.

In a moment of pure desparation, Larry decided to do something he had never done before, wish upon a shooting star: “I wish, I wish that there could be something, some sort of divine intervention, that could help me avoid all unwanted social interactions in 2020. I wish for anything that could socially separate me from those in the world who cause me so much annoyance.

The boorish, the pedantic, the narcissistic – I wish to socially avoid them. The people who ask me for things, the people who expect things from me – I wish to socially circumvent them. My ex-wives, my exgirlfriends, my friend’s wives – I wish to socially camouflage myself from them.

My assistant whose name I forgot and my housekeeper whose name I never learned – I wish to socially escape them. I wish, I wish, I wish to socially distance myself from them all!!!”

Exasperated from his impassioned speech, Larry continued his skyward gaze until the star slowly dissipated into obscurity. The silence was broken by a muffled sound emerging from his car’s radio. Puzzled, Larry didn’t even remember turning it on, but he got back into his car, shut the door, and listened as the sound became clearer.

“This is CNN radio with the latest figures from officials in Wuhan, China.

Where the novel Coronavirus COVID-19 is becoming a serious epidemic. Although the official statistics from the Chinese government are not known at this point, it is believed that thousands have become infected with the virus that causes pneumonia-like symptoms, including coughing, fatigue, body aches, and breathing difficulties. The entire city is in lock-down where residents are being confined to their homes with strict measures in place to prevent disobedience.

All social gatherings including concerts, sporting events, and even humble dinner parties among friends have been canceled indefinitely.”

Larry muttered to himself. “hmmm, that can’t be good.”

“I wish, I wish that there could be something, some sort of divine intervention, that could help me avoid all unwanted social interactions in 2020” – Larry

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arry bypassed the proper etiquette of knocking and hastily opened the front door. He knew that he was going to be a bit late to the dinner party, but the news report on the Coronavirus diverted his attention. He listened intently to the radio segment in his car and then spent another 20 minutes on his phone browsing the web to learn more about the virus, the symptoms, and the most susceptible populations; namely the elderly. Larry, being in this age group – to the extent that the AARP sends him a monthly newsletter on prostate exams…and he reads it – immediately became anxious and considered not even coming to the party. But he calmed himself down by rationalizing that the virus was only in China, and maybe Europe, but definitely not in the U.S., let alone California.

The sound of laughter and conversation echoed from the dining room, which reaffirmed to Larry that he was indeed the last one to arrive. He closed the door softly and made his way to the partygoers.

As Larry entered the room, four individuals were sitting around a delicately plated table. Including Jeff, his friend/ talent agent and evening’s co-host, who looks like Harvey Weinstein before he became a predator. Ted Danson, a beloved and handsome actor with trademark snowwhite hair whom Larry has developed a passive aggressive hatred towards; likely because he comes across as being an outof-touch Hollywood elite or it could be because he’s nailing his ex-wife. Cheryl, the beautiful ex-wife who for years was mistaken as Larry’s nurse when they were married due to the significant appearance gap between them. She has the physique of a swimsuit model, while Larry has the physique that best resembles what it would have looked like if Stephen Hawking had tried to walk. The final individual at the table was Susie, the evening’s co-host and wife of Jeff, who is famous for inventing the ‘resting bitch face’ in Autumn 2002 and for verbally berating anyone who annoys her in the slightest.

Unsurprisingly, Susie pounced at the sight of Larry entering the room. In her Long Ssland accent, she exclaimed, “Big surprise Larry, of course you’re late. So, what’s your excuse this time?”

Larry shrugged his shoulders and began a flurry of hand movements to emphasize his point, “Traffic on the Hollywood Freeway, oh it was terrible. Out of my control, what can I say!”

Ted, Cheryl, and Jeff all nodded in agreement. Traffic is one of the holy trinity of excuses in LA that have been used since the dawn of time as a foolproof scapegoat.

The other two acceptable excuses would have been “Botox took forever” or “I was meeting with my divorce attorney”.

Susie studied his face for a moment, but conceded, “Traffic huh, well at least you came. Unlike Richard Lewis and his new girlfriend. They called an hour ago and said that he wasn’t going to come because of the Corona…what’s it called?”

Jeff chimed in, “The Coronavirus.”

Susie went on, “Yes dear that’s it.

He’s paranoid about it because they just discovered a case of it earlier today in New York City, and he went on and on about how it’s highly transmissible….yadda yadda yadda…and how he has to protect himself because of his age and preexisting condition...”

Larry cut her off, “Wait, I was just listening to CNN on the drive here and they didn’t say anything about the virus reaching the U.S.” His voice quickened with unease, “How did it get here from China?”

Ted enthusiastically replied “Ya Lar, they found out that there was a guy who traveled back from Wuhan, China from a business trip and spread it, but we don’t know how it exactly got here. Did he catch it through human-to-human contact? Was it passed along through food, the potential list goes on and on. It’s quite fascinating.”

Larry was irate inside, mostly because he fucking hated it when Ted called him Lar. What a douchebag he thought.

Jeff, typically the voice of reason interjected, “Richard is overreacting, it’s just 1 case in New York and that’s thousands of miles away from here. The CDC will figure this out in no time.”

last month, and the food was so good – oh the crème brûlée was amazing – and I knew we had to have her cook for us all!”

As the group continued to converse about the joys of crème brûlée, Larry quietly excused himself from the table and headed towards the restroom. Throughout the years, Larry had walked through the hallways of this house a hundred times, nonchalantly strolling to and from the bathroom. He had always passed the same old collection of family photos that ordained the wall, but always ignored them as he was relatively unimpressed by the family’s level of attractiveness. Yet, this evening he decided to stop and gaze at the pictures on the wall. Jeff, Susie, and their daughter Sammie had their entire lives ordained on this hallway collage, from their time as a young family with an infant to Sammie’s high school graduation. Larry admired how the family had stuck together over the years, and how happy that all seemed to look in these photos capturing precious moments in their history.

It caused him to reflect on why he never had children with Cheryl when they were married. Was it due to their desire to live an independent life? Did he unconsciously avoid having children due to the troubled relationship with his parents and an innate fear of repeating their past mistakes? Or perhaps it was because his balls look like two shriveled raisins that produced an amount of sperm equal to the gross domestic product of Uzbekistan – so not that much.

In the middle of Larry’s introspection, he heard a sudden bout of shouting coming from another part of the house.

Intrigued, Larry crept forward, following the booming voices that became louder and louder as he neared the kitchen. Doing his best to go unnoticed, Larry creaked his head around the hallway corner and peered into the kitchen.

Cheryl piled on, “Stop worrying about it. It’s his loss, now we get to enjoy this great wine without him.” She enthusiastically took a gulp of wine so large that would make any housewife at 9:00 in the morning feel jealous. “I absolutely love the wine Susie, and I’m so excited to try out the special cuisine tonight!”

Three figures were shrouded behind a cloudy haze of steam that arose from an array of pots and pans that were being whirled about from one stove to the next.

The sounds of plates clashing with the countertop and the smells of intoxicating spices filled the air. Larry’s mouth watered with hunger and anticipation – he was genuinely excited for the meal.

Susie excitedly responded, “Oh it’s going to be fabulous! Tonight, we are going to be served by the former Executive Chef at La Bite – the Michelin star French restaurant in Malibu. Her name is Chef Tang, and she started her own catering business. She was the one who catered the Johnson’s wedding

The storm of steam cleared, and Larry could make out that one of the chefs was a middle-aged Asian woman, most likely the Chef Tang that Susie mentioned, who was at this moment quite angry with one of her assistant chefs. She leaned over the stove and checked in on the status of the food CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

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that was blistering in a traditional cast-iron wok. She then looked at her watch. Clearly unhappy with the results, her face soured, and she continued to yell at her minions.

The assistant acknowledged the feedback and furiously began adjusting the stove temperature. Larry could tell that he was sweating profusely and had a nervous look on his face. Suddenly, the young man started to cough. At first, he was able to contain it and kept on stirring the pan.

But it worsened and became deeper as each cough began to reverberate like an earthquake. Soon enough the man was coughing up a storm and was completely out of breath.

All the while, Larry’s jaw dropped as he witnessed the scene. His mind raced as he irrationally connected the dots: Chinese food, coughing, germs. He silently muttered to himself “The virus….its here!”

L

arry silently returned to the dinner table and slipped into his chair. His face was pale, and he was breathing heavily.

Everyone was blissfully talking amongst one another, but he was obsessively focusing on the high probability that this was ground zero for a Coronavirus outbreak.

Still debating his next move, the head chef entered the dining room and cut off his escape. She was flanked by a group of assistants who were carrying multiple plates of varying sizes, all containing a colorful assortment of foods. Larry never got a good look at the face of the coughing chef from the kitchen, so he didn’t know for sure if ‘patient zero’ was right here in this room.

Giddy that her evening’s main attraction had arrived, Susie stood up and took center stage, “Everyone, shh, be quiet, dinner is ready! Chef Tang, we’re so happy that we have you as our distinguished chef this evening. Would you be so kind as to take us on our culinary journey?”

Chef Tang addressed the group.

“Absolutely! Well, I hope you’re all hungry.

Because we have prepared an exciting cuisine for you all. We call it a taste of China. First, we’ll start you off with Lo Mein from the Sichuan region which is known for its sweet and spicy sauces, we’ll then move North and serve you the famous Beijing duck, next we’ll take you South to eat hot dry noodles from Wuhan, my home town. And then…”

At the utterance of the word “Wuhan” Larry’s eyes widened. He entered a state of shock where the world around him

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“Chinese food, coughing, germs – the virus…it’s here!”

– Larry was silenced. He slowly looked at the faces surrounding him at the dinner table, expecting them to express the same deepseated fear and horror that he was feeling.

But there was nothing. They eagerly listened to the descriptions and cultural commentary that the Chef provided to the group. They were nodding, smiling, and licking their lips. All unaware of the cruel fate that was about to be bestowed on them. Poor bastards, Larry thought to himself.

Larry snapped back to reality and realized that Chef Tang’s monologue had ended and that two of her assistants had begun serving food. They approached Ted first and plopped a generous portion of Lo Mein noodles on his plate. Larry twitched for a moment, thinking that he should warn Ted, but it was too late.

Ted expertly wielded a set of chopsticks and took a bite. Elation arose from his face. With a savory grin, he turned to the Chef and said, “Oh my goodness, the flavor profile is so complex, and it’s quite spicy!

And…am I tasting a hint of cinnamon?”

Larry tried to remember the news briefings he heard earlier today. Did the coronavirus make food taste like Cinnamon? Was that one of the side effects? Or was Ted just being a pedantic dick? Larry admitted to himself that both were plausible.

After Susie, Cheryl, and Jeff were served, an individual with a plate in hand inched closer and motioned to Larry, “Excuse me sir, could you please bring your plate towards me so that I can serve you?”

Larry could feel his heart thumping in his chest and sweat emerging from his head. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself with a reassuring inner monologue: “Larry, pull yourself together!

It’s okay, just politely decline to eat, and everything will be okay.” Larry gulped and meekly waved his hand back and forth, silently gesturing that he wasn’t interested.

“Sir, you don’t want the Lo Mein?”

Larry lowered his voice and discreetly responded, “Oh no thank you.”

“Okay, would you like me to bring you one of the other dishes then?”

“No, I won’t be eating any of the dishes tonight. Thank you.”

Unfortunately for Larry, Susie watched over her dinner party like a hawk seeking out its prey. She heard a murmur of his dissent, put down her food, and attacked, “Larry, what do you mean you’re not eating? It’s a dinner party, that’s why you’re here!”

Larry panicked, he locked eyes with Susie’s and made up another excuse, “Uhh Look I don’t so well with spicy foods. It’s probably better if I just sit this one out, hope that’s okay?”

Susie snarled at that remark and pointed her finger at Larry with such confidence and disdain that she resembled someone acting in a TV crime drama that was identifying the lone bald man in a lineup of sexual offenders, “What’s your problem, Larry, just take a fucking bite, don’t you see

you’re offending Chef Tang!”

Jeff interjected with a soft nudge, “Larry, just take a bite. If it’s too spicy, then you don’t have to eat it.”

Ted joined in, “Lar, I’m telling you, it’s great, just take a bite. The flavor profile is so complex.”

Cheryl, bemused that Larry hadn’t changed a bit since they were married chimed in, “C’mon Larry, just one bite you big baby!”

Larry contemplated his options; eat the Lo Mein that could very well give him the Coronavirus or take a stand and once again become a social pariah. He stood up from his chair, slammed his napkin on the table, and projected, “Look, I’m not eating tonight okay. I don’t want to get the China Virus!”

The room went silent for a moment.

Chef Tang and her team (all individuals of Asian descent) shook their heads in disappointment while the rest of the partygoers remained quiet, clearly ashamed of their companion. Susie on the other hand was pissed-off and yelled, “What the fuck are you talking about Larry?”

In Larry’s own mind he had an eloquent response to this question. He would methodically lay out the facts of the Coronavirus, describe his quite reasonable concerns given the suspicious activity that he saw in the kitchen, and rally the group in agreement that he was not being racist.

But, this is what actually left his mouth, “I saw one of the cooks coughing in the kitchen…the Lo Mein...Wuhan…I saw a shooting star and made a wish…we could all be in danger!”

Larry was met by a series of groans and confounded expressions. He looked at Chef Tang to gauge her reaction, but she covered her face with her hands in disgust. He looked at Jeff, hoping that his closest ally would understand him – nope, Jeff avoided all eye contact. He looked at Cheryl. Surely, she would defend Larry’s xenophobic comments (as most ex-wives would) – nope, she shook her head at Larry and mouthed the words “I should have asked for more alimony in the divorce.”

Ted broke the awkward silence, “Lar, I’m sensing a pattern with you. Over the year’s you’ve displayed some troubling behavior towards other ethnicities and cultures. During Seinfeld, you cast all the show’s leads with white actors – Jerry,

Elaine, Cramer, and George. They were all white people of privilege. Jerry could have been played by a person of color or at least be transgender – honestly, Lar, you need to put that discriminatory past behind you.”

Larry was deflated, he could sense the tension and animosity in the room. Yet, instead of apologizing, he continued his defense, “I’m not racist! I’m just scared for my health! I have pre-existing health conditions.”

Susie, whose face was bright red with rage and embarrassment quipped, “Are you fucking kidding me, Larry? Apart from the brain damage that you clearly suffered as a child, what pre-existing conditions?”

“I’ve always considered being a Jew to be a pre-existing life condition. When I was six years my pediatrician said that I had the sinuses of a 50-year-old rabbi.

And ya know, our people are not known for being healthy. You don’t see us compete in the Olympics or the NBA. And have you ever seen a Jewish physical trainer? Ya, I didn’t think so. That’s why I need to be extra cautious about this Coronavirus.”

Susie clapped back, “Larry, if you don’t get the fuck out of my house right now, I

I’ve always considered being a Jew to be a pre-existing life condition. When I was six years old my pediatrician said that I had the sinuses of a 50 year-old rabbi….so I need to be extra cautious about this Coronavirus” – Larry CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

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will shove this food up your ass and give you the Coronavirus myself !”

Larry’s eyes widened; he’d seen her use that type of threat on Jeff before, and he had trouble walking the next day. He exited in a hurry.

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arry closed his front door with purpose. He was frustrated by the events that transpired at the dinner party and was longing for peace and quiet so that he could unwind and go to bed. One would expect that such a simple desire would be easy enough for a single man living in his own mansion. But nothing is easy for Larry as he happens to have a Black for a roommate – Leon Black that is. Who at this very moment, was occupying the living room with the TV blaring.

In the mid-2000s, after Hurricane Katrina struck New Orleans, Larry and his ex-wife Cheryl took in a family whose home was tragically destroyed. This family happened to be the Blacks, which included Leon, his mother, as well as his sister and her two young children. While the other Blacks eventually moved on over the years, Leon never left and remained the lone Black in Larry’s life. It’s hard to say why Larry hadn’t kicked out Leon by now given his constant disrespect for his household rules and obnoxious behavior towards his neighbors. It may be worth mentioning that Larry was previously engaged to Leon’s sister, but decided to break off the engagement a few days after he found out that she was diagnosed with Breast Cancer.

One more thing to clarify, the Black family is black – like Kevin Garnett level black.

Larry begrudgingly dragged himself into his living room to see what Leon was watching. He arrived to find Leon wearing his favorite bathrobe, etched with the initials “LD”, while he relaxed on a brown leather couch opposite a 65-inch flatscreen TV hanging on the wall.

Leon looked over his shoulder and acknowledged Larry’s presence “What’s up LD, weren’t you supposed to be at a dinner party or something?”

Larry replied as he took a seat on the couch next to Leon, “I didn’t have an appetite and left early. What are you watching?”

“CNN, it’s more about this Coronavirus shit, looks like they found a bunch of infections in NYC.” “More of them? Earlier today it was just one person!”

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“I’m telling you LD, those flushable butt wipes are one of the greatest inventions of the 21st Century...after internet porn & medical marijuana of course” – Leon “Larry, it’s multiplying itself. It found a host, and by tomorrow there will be hundreds and then thousands of infections.

Next up is the looting. And trust me I’ll be ready…” Leon exclaimed as he emphatically pointed to his chest with his left hand, “You can be sure of that!”

“Looting?” Larry chuckled and replied with his typical mixture of sarcasm and light condescension, “Look I hardly think that this virus is going to cause people to break into stores so that they can steal iPads and handbags.”

“No no, you got it all wrong. Toilet paper is the target, that shit is the new liquid gold. I’m telling you, during Katrina, I saw it first-hand: grocery stores ran out of TP in hours, Wal-Mart and Costco in less than a day, and god bless Taco Bell, they lasted an entire week. Then people got desperate, and that’s when the looting started. Any business with a bathroom was up for grabs. At that point, toilet paper became the new currency. Two sheets of Charmin Ultra Soft could feed your family for a week.”

With a smug expression, Larry replied “Really? Toilet paper?”

“Let me break it down for you LD, toilet paper is the underpinning of civilized society. The second you run out of toilet paper, what do you do? You make the hard choice and start wiping with your towels, clothes, and bedsheets. But those get permanently stained and now you got nothing clean to keep you warm. So what do you do? You go up to your neighbor, kill him and take his stuff so you can wipe your ass. But then you run out again, and you become stuck in this repetitive murder-

to-ass wipe cycle. I digress, let me ask you another question, have you ever tried those new moist butt wipes?”

Still digesting Leon’s ballad of murder and ass wiping, Larry paused for a moment and responded: “You mean those little moist towelettes that you can flush down a toilet? No, why?”

“I’m telling you LD, those flushable butt wipes are one of the greatest inventions of the 21st Century…after internet porn and medical marijuana of course. The Japanese created these wipes where they combined normal toilet paper with some molecular moist technology – and when you press it against your asshole it is an indescribable experience, like having someone lick your…”

“Okay, I get it. No need to tell me anything else about your ass hole. Just tell me, what’s your plan about this upcoming looting?”

“First thing tomorrow, I’m heading to Costco to stock up on supplies. And because you’re my boy Larry, I’ll pick you up something tomorrow if you want?”

Disregarding Leon’s sensational words, Larry replied in a patronizing tone, “No, I think I’ll be just fine.” He laughed as he got up and exited the living room.

As Larry walked away, Leon turned his attention back to the TV where a politician named Mitch McConnel was addressing the Coronavirus. Leon gave Larry a parting gift and yelled, “Wow that man looks like what would happen if a sloth fucked a sea turtle with down syndrome.”

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fter a well-rested night, Larry awoke feeling famished after he had skipped dinner the night before and eagerly rushed to his kitchen so that he could make breakfast. Unfortunately, he found his refrigerator to be completely void of food. He wasn’t sure if Leon’s gluttony were to blame or if he had forgotten to tell his housekeeper to buy food. Admittedly, Larry had been intentionally avoiding her after a confrontation during the Superbowl when he threatened to replace her with an autonomous Roomba vacuum if she didn’t stop cleaning during the game. It didn’t help the situation when Leon added that his ex-girlfriend had the body of a Roomba but a mouth like a Dyson.

Weary that he couldn’t catch a break, Larry grabbed his car keys and headed out for an excursion to Target.

It was a sunny California day, and the traffic was light. Larry’s luck finally began to improve as he encountered all green lights – he was making record time. He saw the bright red Target sign up ahead and swerved right to enter the parking lot.

However, he instantly slammed his breaks, sending his car to a complete stop. Larry caught his breath for a moment, and then mumbled out loud, “Oh my god, Leon was right.”

Target was in a state of chaos. Its parking lot resembled a battlefield not seen since the Black Friday Massacre of 0’9.

It was overflowing with cars and people, accompanied by an orchestra of honking and incoherent words. Drivers stuck their heads out of their windows and yelled profanities at their newfound nemesis that sought to claim an unconquered parking spot. While at the store entrance, dozens of families jostled over a handful of shopping carts. Parents shoved other parents, teenagers insulted one another’s wokeness, while young children sharpened their pacifiers into makeshift weapons. Larry rubbed his eyes to double-check that this was real, was this indeed Target? Because it sure looked like Wal-Mart.

Feeling anxious that Leon’s clairvoyance about grocery store riots was accurate, Larry attempted to back out of the parking lot and leave. However, he was boxed in by a group of cars that had lined up behind him. He had no choice but to wait it out.

However, a parking space unexpectedly opened up right in front of Larry’s car.

A Prius had stealthy exited the spot and left it free for the taking. Nobody seemed to notice it, so Larry instinctively zipped in and occupied the space. Larry thought to himself that it was almost too serendipitous as if the cosmos was using an invisible hand to guide him towards his

fate. He wondered if he should just stick it out in his car until nightfall, and then make an escape. Or he could risk it and go into the Target and face whatever terrors and monstrosities lay behind those red doors. His stomach churned and made the decision for him – he needed to journey into the Target and retrieve the bare necessities: coffee, bagels, cheese, salmon, and hummus. The five main food groups of a Jewish diet (self-deprecation is the sixth). Larry got out of his car, locked it, and braced himself. He entered the Target.

The scene was worse than he could have imagined. Crowds of overhyped shoppers were in a state of self-preservation, fighting over every item in sight and completely ignoring the upper-middle-class decorum that Target usually commands. Housewives turned into malicious warriors, ramming their shopping carts into one another while lunging for the last bottle of white wine (Prosecco, on sale for $8.99). Children were turned into hard laborers as their parents forced them to work in unison in order to push forward shopping carts overflowing with frozen foods and canned goods.

Store employees helplessly attempted to restore order over the intercom, but their pleas were drowned out by the sounds of rapid footsteps and occasional screams.

Worst of all, shoppers in the check-out line were blatantly disregarding the sacred

“Toilet paper really is the underpinning of civilized society” – Larry CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

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commandant of ‘15 items of less’. Truly barbaric.

luck that I run into you of all people! A racist who is now a thief !”

Shell shocked at how fast society deteriorated, Larry grabbed a handbasket and embarked on his quest. He managed to make his way to the dairy section of the store unharmed, and scanned the refrigerators: cheese – sold out, cream cheese – sold out. Unsuccessful, he traversed to the breakfast aisle to get coffee, but everything was sold out. Except for Folgers branded coffee, tons in stock, but Larry conceded that he’d rather die of thirst than drink black tar.

“Chef Tang, I think we got off on the wrong foot here, let me explain…”

Disappointed, Larry aimlessly peered down the nearest aisle, hoping to find any semblance of sustenance. Something wasn’t right with this aisle. Its shelves were completely empty and dented, remnants of blood-stained tile on the floor, and little white pieces of paper were scattered everywhere. Larry realized that this must be where the underpinning of civilized society started to unravel - the toilet paper ailse.

Curious to inspect the ruins, Larry walked down the aisle with his empty basket in hand. It was like being in a museum where one could see historical artifacts representing how a great battle had once taken place. Other onlookers in the aisle were in a similar state of mind, admiring the soldiers who must have given up their Sunday afternoons to valiantly fight for their family’s ass holes. Larry continued walking down the aisle, but then something caught his eye that left him dead in his tracks. To his right, barely visible and tucked deep away into a shelf, there appeared to be a 4-pack of toilet paper.

Larry couldn’t tell if it was the one-ply store brand or the fabled Charmin Ultra Soft, but he didn’t care, he was caught up in the moment and stretched out his hand with all his might and grabbed the box! He pulled back quickly using all his strength, but there was some unknown force that was pulling in the opposite direction. Larry refocused his eyes and could see another hand grasping at his prize.

Larry snarled “Hey, get your hand off of it!”

“No, I was here first…”

While still tightly grasping the package, Larry lifted his eyes and saw none other than Chef Tang with her hands locked onto the toilet paper. Larry meekly smiled, while she gave a look of exasperation expressing that he was the last person on earth she wanted to look at.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, just my 7

CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

She cut him off, “My name isn’t Chef Tang okay, that’s my professional title. If you had managed to pay attention last night, then you would have learned that my name is Jennifer Tang.”

“Got it, Jennifer, I want to explain. Last night I was spooked by the Coronavirus news…and then I saw someone on your staff coughing…and I put two to two together…and I unintentionally brought geographical prejudice into the mix. That’s my bad. I’m usually quite geographically welcoming.” Larry forced a smile on his face.

Raising an eyebrow, she quipped, “Whatever, just give me this toilet paper and we won’t have to see each other ever again.” She yanked at the toilet paper, attempting to snatch it from Larry’s grasp.

Larry tightened his grip and wouldn’t let go, “Well, I mean, I’m pretty…pretty sure that I grabbed it first. But to smooth things over, how about we go half and half ? There are four rolls here, you get two, I get two?”

“No, I’m not going half and half. I’m going full.”

With their hands firmly sealed onto the toilet paper, Larry and Chef Tang locked eyes and began to stare down one another, looking for any sign of weakness.

Larry raised his chin while still making eye contact, Chef Tang pivoted her head to the left and remained laser-focused without blinking.

This dance continued for a few more seconds, and eventually Larry yielded, “Okay, we’ll scrap the half and half. But then we’re even, and you have to tell Susie that I apologized for last night. Deal?”

Chef Tang let out a reluctant sigh and said, “Fine.” She took custody of the toilet paper and strolled away in the opposite direction.

A

fter enduring the shopping chaos and managing to avoid any bodily harm, Larry was able to finally secure a collection of supplies, albeit none that were on his initial list, including: Totino’s Pizza Rolls, Jimmy Dean Breakfast Sausages, S’more Flavored Pop-Tarts, I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, butter, Mountain Dew Baha Blast, and a combo pack of Nyquil + Dayquil. With his haul in hand, Larry

made his way through the long and cumbersome checkout line until it was his turn.

At the checkout station, Larry was greeted by an overly enthusiastic teenage girl. “Hi Sir, how was your shopping experience at Target today?”

“Apart from witnessing a few misdemeanor assaults and being accused of a hate crime, it wasn’t too eventful.”

Unsure of what to say the young woman began to quietly scan his items. At the end of the conveyor belt a bag boy of a similar age began to aggregate the supplies, he looked directly to Larry in a bland and lazy tone and said, “paper or plastic?”

Larry responded, “Sorry what?”

“Do you want paper or plastic bags for your groceries?” He held up both options, a dainty white/translucent plastic bag and a brown paper bag, each adorned with a red bullseye.

For some reason, Larry struggled to make a decision. He had been to grocery stores countless times before, but he had never pondered this seemingly mundane question. He could choose paper or plastic.

It reminded him of the time during his adolescence when his mother told him that he could choose to become a doctor or a lawyer. Larry wanted neither, he had dreams of becoming a comedian, but his mother scorned him for his choices. Those eternal words and the sheer gravity of the situation hung over him at this moment.

All he could mutter was, “hmmm.”

Impatiently the bag boy snapped his fingers and asked, “So what’s it going to be?”

“I’m not sure, what would you recommend?”

“Recommend? Buddy, I’m not like a wine connoisseur. I can’t tell you what the best option is to bring out the tannins in your Mountain Dew Baha Blast. It’s paper or plastic, that’s it. These options don’t change, it’s not like this paper bag is a special vintage. Just pick one already!”

A man who was waiting behind Larry impatiently chimed in, “Can you just pick one already? You’re holding up the line, it’s just paper or plastic.”

Larry’s head began to spin, he kept hearing the words “paper or plastic, paper or plastic” over and over again like an opera meant to mock him. Frustrated with the boundaries that society has placed on him with this decision, he

“ You want me to recommend paper or plastic? Buddy, I’m not like a wine connoisseur, I can’t tell you what the best option is to bring out the tannins in your Mountain Dew Baha Blast” – Target Bag Boy panicked and cried out, “I’ll take half and half !”

The bag boy raised an eyebrow, “half and half ?”

“Look, if you can get an ice cream cone with half vanilla, half chocolate. Then why can’t I get half paper bags, half plastic bags?

You should make that one of your options.

Don’t say paper or plastic, you should say paper, plastic, or half and half. I really think I’m on to something here…”

Larry was met by an assortment of puzzled expressions from others waiting in the check-out line. Yet, he proudly exited the store carrying one plastic bag and one paper bag.

H

aving survived a brush with the Coronavirus and escaped the fabled Target crusades, life was starting to look good for Larry. One might say… pretty…pretty…pretty good. Even better, Larry had gained a newfound appreciation for Totino’s Pizza Rolls, which he was happily eating in his kitchen at this very moment.

However, a violent knocking sound thumped against his front door. The surprise and sheer force of the noise made Larry skittish. He wondered who it could be as he wasn’t expecting any guests. Could it be someone for Leon? Probably not, as he usually directs his dates – or as he calls them fine ass bitches – to his residence in the guest house. Could it be the Mormons?

Or worse the Scientologists? They’ve been chasing down Larry for years after he purchased a book about L. Ron. Hubbard.

He was trying to purchase a biography about the 1960’s porn star L. Ron. Harder, but mixed up the names.

“Jeez, it took you long enough!” Susie impatiently snapped the second that Larry opened the door. She barged through the front door with her fatigued husband Jeff trailing behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Larry asked.

Susie pronounced, “Well we heard all about your run-in with Chef Tang at the grocery store earlier today. You just can’t leave her alone, can you? First, it’s her Chinese heritage and now you harass her over toilet paper. Your sick Larry honestly.”

“I don’t know what you heard but I didn’t harass anyone. I’m guessing that she forgot to mention how I willingly gave her the last roll of toilet paper in the entire store.”

Not backing down, Susie pressed on, “I heard she had to pry it from your greedy, boney, old man hands because you wanted to go half and half or something.”

“What is everyone’s problem with the half and half ? The whole concept of the half and half is equality and fairness.”

Larry motioned with his hands “You get half and I get half. Problem solved.”

Jeff chimed in, “For what it’s worth, I like the half and half. Like an Arnold Palmer, half ice- tea, half lemonade, it’s very refreshing.”

“Exactly!” Larry cheered him on. “If the world adopted the half and half mentality, the greatest issues of our time could be addressed. Migrant families seeking asylum in the U.S.? Use the half and half.

Put half the children in cages, and let the other half become U.S. citizens. Need to solve world hunger? Use the half and half.

Half of all big macs sold are now rerouted CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

8

to Africa, problem solved.”

Susie crossed her arms and retorted, “Well, I have a better solution for you. You need to prove that you’re not a xenophobe and put this whole situation behind you, and to do this….” She dug into the purse that was broached over her shoulder and pulled out a small plastic container. “….We brought you leftovers from last night’s dinner, the Lo Mein.”

“I already apologized. I’m not eating that!”

Jeff somberly addressed Larry, “Everyone ate it, and nobody got the virus.

Trust me, this is the easiest apology of your life – just take one bite.”

Larry studied Jeff ’s appearance, trying to find any point of weakness that could indicate the virus. But truth be told, he looked good. So he reluctantly replied, “Fine, just one bite.”

Susie shoved the container into Larry’s hands and even produced a pair of chopsticks for him to use. She watched on with a devilish smile on her face, resembling the evil witch from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs that offered the innocent princess a poisoned apple.

Larry’s hand trembled as he dug the chopsticks into the noodles, twisted them like a knife, and consumed a mouthful.

While still chewing, Larry produced a smile and exclaimed, “It’s not that bad.

I might even go as far as to say that it’s pretty…pretty…pretty good!”

L

ater that evening, Larry relaxed on his bed in a quiet household as Leon was surprisingly nowhere to be found and peacefully read of his new book: Flash Boys – A collection of poems and short stories exploring premature ejaculation by Malcolm Gladwell.

After briskly finishing the first three chapters, Larry’s stomach began to churn, and gurgling sounds periodically erupted from his stomach. He was met by a sharp twist of pain on his left side that caused him to hunch over and grimace. His eyes burst open as the pain intensified, and he immediately experienced the unmistakable feeling of needing to run to the bathroom.

Larry dashed from his bed straight to his master bathroom. He rushed to the toilet and slammed the seat down.

He turned around, dropped his trousers, and prepared to board the seat like an astronaut preparing for launch. However, he froze when he noticed that there was no toilet paper in sight. With his

9

CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

“The Lo Mein!”

– Larry underpants still at his feet, he scampered to the cabinet under the sink. He opened the doors, but it was completely barren. There was no toilet paper.

Panicking, Larry hobbled out of his master bathroom and made his way downstairs to a guest bathroom.

Unfortunately, when he arrived at the bathroom, he quickly discovered that the toilet paper rolls were all used up. Larry paused for a moment and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He saw a desperate and broken man with disheveled hair and stubble – he was starting to resemble the toilet paper crazed psychopath that Leon had described. He snapped out of this bewitched moment and knew that he had to act quickly before it was too late.

He ran into his kitchen, grabbed a roll of paper towels, and staggered back to the bathroom. During the run, his hands could feel the coarseness and rigidity of the paper towels. These were not the typical super soft paper towels that Larry normally had at his disposal, these were rugged, razorthin, and industrial. Larry knew that he was in for a rough night.

He completed his awkward run back to his bathroom and triumphantly sat himself down on his toilet. The pain and pressure built up, and when the moment erupted, Larry shouted in dismay “The Lo Mein!!!!!!!!!!”

F

ollowing a trying night of repeated bathroom offenses with a poor excuse for toilet paper, Larry’s arsehole was left sore and brutalized. The aching pain in his rear caused him to feel a sincere sense of

empathy for the countless young men who encountered Kevin Spacey in the 90s.

Larry fought through the pain as he arrived at Jeff and Susie’s house. With the remnants of the poisonous Lo Mein in hand, he knocked frantically on their front door. He was hellbent on justifying his original suspicions from the dinner party and intent on obtaining damages paid in the form of toilet paper.

Jeff answered the door, unveiling his own disheveled and weary appearance that mirrored Larry. He was dressed in a plain white t-shirt stained with a large blotch of coffee, accompanied by an unshaven face and bloodshot eyes that stared numbingly at Larry.

Without giving Jeff the opportunity to greet him, Larry pounced, “You thought I was paranoid and Xenophobic? You mocked me for not taking just one bite.

But I was right all along!” He began to mockingly shake a plastic container. “The Lo Mein gave me food poisoning if not the Coronavirus! Just one bite put me on the toilet all night!”

Without responding, Jeff looked over his shoulder and quietly closed the front door. He inched closer to Larry and whispered, “So you got sick too?”

Dumbfounded by Jeff ’s behavior, Larry snapped, “That’s what I just said! But if it got you sick, then why did you and Susie force me to eat it yesterday?”

“Look I didn’t know the food was bad! I felt fine after the dinner party. I only actually got sick last night. Susie

was completely fine, and I haven’t heard anything from Ted or Cheryl, so I thought this was an isolated event. But oh my god, I was on the toilet all night…it was terrible…I left our bathrooms looking like Chernobyl after the nuclear meltdown.

And that’s bathrooms Larry, fucking plural.”

“Okay, so even if it was just us the two who got infected, and everyone else is fine, I’m still going to give your wife a piece of my mind so that she can pass it along to Chef Tang. I’m not so sure she’s even a real chef, to me she’s more of a butcher…of assholes.”

“Larry, I need you to do me a favor and hold off on this one. If you go talk to Susie then I’ll be called on as a witness.

Here’s the problem, if I reveal that I got sick then I’ll also have to reveal that I used up all our toilet paper. And Larry, tonight is no ordinary night, it is a blood moon.”

Jeff closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh before continuing. “It is a rare event when the moon is in a total lunar eclipse. The sun’s rays distort the moon’s color into a bright crimson that gleams across the cosmos.

It is prophesied that this event marks the beginning of the end of days for life on earth. But for the last 20 years of marriage, it has marked the beginning of Susie’s period. Larry, this is not just any period – it is the period of periods. In Spanish, they call it an El Chupacabra period. Blood will reign down upon my household; and if I have any chance of surviving the next 72 hours, I’ll need to acquire a shit ton of toilet paper.”

“Well, we’re both fucked apparently, because I literally came here to get toilet paper from you” “You’re kidding! I was about to ask you for some.” Jeff laughed manically. “I drove to three stores this morning, but it’s all gone, shelves were completely empty.

I called at least ten people begging for anything, even Richard Lewis, but he said that he didn’t have a square to spare.”

“What about the country club, couldn’t we just go there and grab a few extra sheets from the locker room?”

“I already went there to scope out the situation, but they’ve locked down the supply. They assigned a golf caddie to each stall in the men’s locker room. The caddies help to read the situation and then provide an amount of toilet paper that they think is necessary. I overheard one guy in a stall say that the terrain was looking rough and that it was a tight shot, so the caddie gave him three sheets of toilet paper. And another guy got a hole in one.”

“What are we going to do?” Larry asked, in an exasperated tone.

“Well, I do have one idea. It’s a little insane, but I’d say desperate times call for desperate measures. I think we should rob Ted Danson.”

“Ted? Burglary? There’s got to be another option. Why don’t we wait for the National Guard or the Army to get involved?”

Jeff wiped a drop of sweat from his brow and replied, “We don’t have time for that.

You see, when I went out this morning, I also stopped at Chipotle and ate a steak burrito, so I’m a ticking time bomb. I got three, maybe four hours left if I’m lucky.

So hear me out, after you left the dinner the other night, Ted was going on and on about how he built a bunker in his house a few years ago to withstand a nuclear bomb or something. He happened to mention that the bunker has enough supplies – water, food, and toiletries – to last him 18 months.”

“Okay, but how are we going to break into Ted’s bunker?”

“We don’t break into it; we get Ted to let us in. That narcissistic, Emmy-winning, handsome bastard will jump at the chance to give us a tour. He’ll go on and on about how he was justified to build a bunker, and in those moments we’ll just snag a few rolls of toilet paper and make our getaway.”

Larry wasn’t sure how to react to Jeff ’s proposition. He didn’t like the idea of stealing from a friend, but he couldn’t think of any other plausible option and conceded, “Alright, I’m in.”

J

eff swerved the steering wheel left, braked, and then slammed on the gas pedal. Leaving behind a screeching sound that echoed throughout his suburban neighborhood. He and Larry were in a race against time, more accurately a race against their next bowel movement, as they rushed towards Ten Danson’s house to pull off the greatest heist of 2020, codenamed ‘The Charmin Job’.

“Alright, so if we actually make it into the bunker, and that’s a big IF, how are we going to make it out with the toilet paper without Ted noticing?” Larry asked. “It’s not like we can just walk out his front door with 20 rolls stuffed in our shirts.”

Jeff didn’t say anything for a moment as the shirt stuffing scheme was one that he meaningfully considered. He knew that Larry couldn’t pull it off with his lanky, bony body that resembled the physique

of a 9th grader who made it out of the holocaust just in time – but he thought that he could at least stuff a few rolls under his shirt without Ted noticing. Admittedly he was on the brink of moving from a B cup to a C cup as it were. Nevertheless, he responded, “You got a point there, one sec.”

Jeff stretched out his right arm and reached into the back seat, where he emerged with a dark blue backpack. “I have my daughter’s old backpack from high school. You can wear this and we’ll stuff the toilet paper in it.”

“A backpack? I guess that will work.”

“We have a bigger problem on our hands, we need a distraction. Once we’re in the bunker, we need to somehow get Ted out of it so that you – with the backpack – can stay behind and stuff it with the toilet paper.”

“Hmmm, what distracts a man like Ted Danson?”

Jeff abruptly slammed the brakes as a woman with giant jugs walked by on the sidewalk. He pressed back down on the gas and replied, “I have no idea.”

“Why don’t you say that you’re having prostate problems and that you need him to get you some aspirin or something.”

“Prostate problems?”

Larry smiled and pronounced, “Ok hear me out on this one. After you told me about your wife’s imminent period, it made me realize that for much of my adult life I’ve actually admired a woman’s ability to get out of any social situation by claiming ‘I’m on my period’. The second this holy phrase is declared; it creates so much awkwardness that a woman can get away with anything. As an example, last year I took this woman out to dinner on a date, and when the check arrived, out of the blue she said ‘Sorry, I’m on my period’. She didn’t give any context or leave the table; she just sat there and gave a deadpan stare to me and the waiter. I didn’t know how to react, so I just paid the full check. She did the same thing at the valet.”

Jeff countered, “I have no idea where you’re going with this.”

“What I’m saying is that you and I can take a small step for man and a giant leap for mankind by harnessing the power of the ‘I’m on my Period’…but in prostate form. While we’re in the bunker you can say to Ted ‘my prostate is inflamed’. What is he going to do? Ask you to bend over and check it himself ? No, he will do whatever he can to avoid causing awkwardness.

CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

10

know that I forgive you for your behavior.”

Ted placed his hand on Larry’s shoulder and continued, “The news of the virus landing in the U.S. was shocking, and I can see that some people aren’t always equipped to handle that type of information.”

Larry patted Ted’s hand in appreciation and grinned, “You’re right, I just wasn’t equipped. But I want to have the right equipment going forward. I’ve already made amends to Chef Tang. I did eat her Lo Mein. “Ted…” Larry smacked his licked and remarked, “Did you also eat the Lo Mein?”

“Of course, it was phenomenal.” “ You and I can take a small step for man, and a giant leap for mankind by harnessing the power of the “I’m on my period”….but in prostate form” – Larry You’ll then request an aspirin to alleviate your prostate pain, and he’ll quietly oblige and leave the bunker.”

Jeff laughed raucously and cheered, “Inflamed prostate, huh? This is the best that Larry David has to offer? An inflamed prostate?”

“Trust me, the inflamed prostate will be talked about for years to come. I might even pitch George Clooney to include me in the next Ocean’s Eleven movie. They always have roles for the getaway driver and the hacker, and I can be the prostate guy. Think about it, every heist needs someone who can get out of a sticky situation, and the prostate guy does just that, by making the situation extremely awkward.”

“Honestly, I don’t have any better ideas, so fine, I’ll be the prostate guy. Not because I like your idea, but because I really have to pee. So, I’ll sell the role like my bladder depends on it.”

L

arry slammed the door shut and secured the backpack over his shoulders, while Jeff scratched his balls and tried to remember the difference between the prostate and the urethra. Their eyes met as they stood stoically in front of Ted’s house. A light breeze swirled around them and without saying a word to one another they mentally rehearsed their complex heist: Step 1, lure Ted into his bunker filled with mountains of toilet paper. Step 2, distract Ted with Jeff ’s inflamed prostate.

Step 3, put the toilet paper in the backpack.

Step 4, inconspicuously walk out without anyone noticing. Step 5, wipe and rejoice.

They approached the front door and

11

CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

rang the doorbell. The cheerful ringing sound echoed throughout the massive home, and soon enough Ted could be seen through glass archways that lined the door.

He energetically opened the door and bellowed, “Jeff ! Larry! What are you guys doing here?”

“Ted!!” Larry and Jeff responded in unison while sticking out their arms, performing the classic fake excitement hand maneuver.

“Were we supposed to meet up today?”

Ted asked innocently.

Jeff took the lead and replied, “Actually, this is more of an ambush from Larry and me. Earlier today we were discussing the Coronavirus situation and concluded that we might need to invest in those protective saferooms that can be installed in one’s basement, I believe they’re called bunkers.

I vaguely recalled that you had such a bunker. Is that correct?”

Ted lit up with enthusiasm, “Yes! I put that baby in 2 years ago. Honestly, I just feel safer having it in the house, and this whole virus situation is really showing that the decision was justified.”

“We don’t want to burden you or anything. It would just be really helpful if maybe we could get a tour of the bunker to help us make an informed decision if this pandemic starts getting worse.”

“Oh it’s no burden at all, I’d be happy to show you both”. Ted motioned for them to come inside. “I bet Susie would love to have one of these to fall back on. By the way, thanks again for dinner, the food was amazing. Oh and Lar, I want to let you

Larry muttered under his breath, “Phenomenal, in more ways than one.”

“Lar, I do have to ask. What’s up with the backpack? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear one like that before?”

Jeff jumped in, “It’s for his posture.

It has weights in the back to keep his shoulders upright. The doctors said that he could be two inches taller if he just stood up straight.”

Larry nodded exaggeratedly while tightly grasping the backpack straps with anger.

Ted raised his eyebrows and voiced, “Oh wow, that’s great Lar, I’ve always noticed your’re less than stellar posture, I just thought it was a genetic disorder or something. But I’m so happy that you’re working to better yourself !”

“Me too…so about that bunker.” Larry said as he motioned away from the front door.

Ted took the lead and guided Larry and Jeff past his living room, beyond his kitchen, and then down a short set of stairs to reach his basement. Ted flipped a switch and the basement illuminated, revealing that it was an extensive wine cellar with dozens of shelves that were stacked neatly with wine categorized by type and year. It was like being in a pretentious version of the catacombs: dark, damp, and full of old French stuff. Ted maneuvered through the cellar, stopping intermittently to admire a specific vintage and provide an anecdote of its origin and taste. Eventually, he reached the edge of the cellar, where a tall metal door stood guard as the entrance to the bunker.

“One moment gentlemen, I have to put in the security code. If you could please just avert your eyes.” Ted said as he walked up to the bunker door and typed in a code on a bright LED numerical pad. A series of

beeps went off, followed by a loud clicking sound. He gripped the door and slowly pushed it to open. He beckoned to Jeff and Larry, “This bunker has four feet of reinforced concrete surrounding it, while this 6-inch steel door requires a special code and a fingerprint. It’s actually the same model that Saddam Hussain went with. Come on in, and I’ll give you the full tour.”

The bunker itself was like a 400 square foot studio apartment that you’d find in New York City. The floor was bare concrete and there were no windows. It was sparsely furnished with a single twin-sized bed that sat next to a small table. Instead of a proper kitchen, there was just a sink and a waist-high countertop. Yet the real differentiating amenity was a massive shelf that took up an entire wall of the bunker.

It had three levels that were stacked with all sorts of canned foods, bottled water, cleaning supplies, board games, and just about everything else that you would need to survive underground.

Ted immediately began to describe all of the intricacies and features of the bunker, but Larry and Jeff were preoccupied with locating its secret treasure. They simply nodded their heads in agreement while scanning the shelves for any sign of the fabled toilet paper.

The problem was that was all the supplies were in industrial cardboard boxes that had difficult to read labels. Larry squinted his eyes and concentrated, but he couldn’t find anything. His eyes darted back and forth, but he could only ever seem to locate boxes that contained soup. At that moment he lamented his poor range of vision and attributed it to the fact that he never actually finished the book “Where’s Waldo”, he always told people that he found him, but he never did, not even once.

Abruptly, Larry felt a pain in his ribs.

Jeff was repeatedly elbowing him to get his attention. Larry looked at Jeff, whose eyes were alive with excitement. He grinned at Larry and nodded his head to the left.

Larry raised his eyebrows and peered over to where Jeff had motioned – on the second level shelf there was a cardboard box with the words toilet paper engraved on its side. At the sight of the treasure, Larry produced a devious smile, resembling the Grinch when he stole Cindy Lou Who’s Christmas presents.

This moment of delight was shortlived as Jeff and Larry concluded that they needed to move on to phase 2: distraction by inflamed prostate. Jeff interrupted Ted’s Shakespearean monologue about the bunker’s structural integrity with a loud

groan of pain, “Ahh it burns!!”

just say the words.”

Ted empathetically remarked, “Jeff, are you okay?”

Jeff whimpered, “Ted, that is so gracious of you. But…I’m quite alright, it’s just a flare-up that some Tylenol and a shot of whisky can solve.”

Jeff cleared his throat and lamented, “Sorry Ted, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.

I’m just having some discomfort. I hate to ask, but could you help me go upstairs and find some pain medication?”

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry bud. I have a bunch of medical supplies right here in the bunker. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Jeff glanced at Larry who was nodding his head excitedly like a bobblehead and then responded to Ted with a fatigued tone, “The thing is, I have a prostate inflammation problem. Right now, it’s inflamed. Like imagine if a queen bee flew into your pee-hole and decided to sting the inside of your prostate, and then all of the male bees got jealous because their queen found a new muse, so then they went down the pee-hole train and stung you all over.”

Ted looked dumbfounded and didn’t say anything, so Larry quickly jumped in and objected, “Prostate problems! That is just gross. Totally disgusting. This is not bunker talk. Ted, why don’t you just help Jeff out.

I’ll stay here and man the bunker…”

Ted interrupted, “Wait a second guys.

I take prostates issues very seriously. My father had prostate cancer and had a prostatectomy performed when he was 75. I remember my dad’s operation like it was yesterday; the doctors needed to stick a needle through his pee-hole in order to reach the prostate gland, but his dick skin was just too wrinkly and saggy. There were just so many layers of excess skin, it was like holding raw pizza dough…deep-dish… and it kept slipping out of the doctor’s hands. They had to use paper clips just to hold it all down. Finally, they were able to successfully locate the pee-hole opening. It was a difficult operation.”

Ted began to weep softly. He took a step towards Jeff and locked his arms around him, delicately caressed his body, and whispered, “Jeff, I am willing to give you a prostate exam right here in the bunker.

I would be honored to stick my finger up your butt and see what’s going on.”

Jeff ’s face turned pale white at thought of Ted fingering him.

Ted relinquished his hug and continued, “When I volunteered with doctors without borders last summer, we went to Uganda and gave hundreds of men prostate exams, and dental exams, all in one sitting. I’ve honed my craft and I will be very gentle –

Ted squealed out a reply, “Okay champ, let’s go upstairs and get you some medicine.

You’ll be alright if we step out for a bit Lar?” Larry’s devilish smile returned. He innocently remarked, “Oh ya, I’ll be fine.”

After Ted and Jeff finally exited the bunker and crept up the stairs, Larry took a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. He figured that he had at least a few minutes to get the job done, maybe a bit more if Ted moved on from his Uganda anecdote and started describing his yeast infection work in Thailand.

Larry shifted towards the shelf where the toilet paper box was situated on the second level. He examined the size and weight of the box – it was about 24 inches long and 10 inches wide (the Shaquille O’Neil model). Larry delicately lifted the box and slowly pulled it away from the shelf, mindful not to trigger any possible hidden alarms. After the successful extraction, he set it down on the concrete floor next to the shelf and examined the exterior. It was sealed tight with a highly sophisticated sealant – Scotch tape, single sided. Larry shuffled through his pockets and unearthed his house key. He pressed the ridged side of the key to the tape and cut through it like a scalpel slicing through Ted Danson’s Dad’s excess skin covering his pee hole.

He opened the box with his two hands and a bright light reflected off of the white treasure housed within: Charmin Ultra Soft – the tissue of gods. Enthralled by the discovery, he rummaged his fingers across the soft tissue and smelled the aroma. It was intoxicating.

Larry snapped out of his trance and got back to business. He first took inventory and calculated that there were over 20 kilos worth of toilet paper; worth a few thousand on the black market. He grabbed one of the roles and tore off a single sheet to test its purity and ensure that it wasn’t laced with any knockoff Kroger or Kirkland’s Best. He raised the sheet against the light and checked its consistency, he rubbed it between his fingers trying to detect any coarseness. It was legit, 100% pure Californian Charmin.

Larry took off his backpack and began to furiously stuff it with rolls of toilet CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

12

“My goodness, what happened”? Ted asked, visibly concerned.

Larry looked at Jeff, who knew that something was up. He looked back and Ted and replied confidently, “I think there was an earthquake. I was just sitting here, admiring the bunker, and the next thing I knew, boom, the shelf collapsed. Didn’t you feel it”?

Jeff jumped in before Ted could mutter a response, “You know what, I think I felt something. There was a rumbling when we were upstairs.”

Larry grabbed one of the Charmin Ultrasoft toilet paper roles and tore off a single sheet to test its purity and confirm it wasn’t laced with any knockoff Kroger or Kirkland’s Best paper. He stacked 8 rolls in the backpack and then paused. He reasoned that he could be greedy and get in another 2 rolls, but the risks of breaking the zipper were too great. He settled for 8 rolls in total: half to Jeff and half to Larry. He smirked that the old half and half strikes again. He zipped up the backpack, carefully applied pressure to the severed tape, and resealed the cardboard box. And just as quickly as he took it down, he replaced it on the shelf.

Everything was back to its rightful place.

However, as he took a step back from the shelf, something unexpected caught Larry’s eye. On the top tier of the shelf near the ceiling, there was a cardboard box labeled: INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH DUDE WIPES: The only flushable bathroom wipes strong enough for a rhino but made for a man.

Larry couldn’t take his eyes off the box as he remembered how Leon described using flushable wipes as pure ecstasy. He was conflicted, he wanted the wipes so badly, but he knew that he didn’t have much time left before Jeff and Ted returned.

He turned around and attempted to mute his temptation, but he heard the wipes calling out to him like a siren’s song, “Larrrrrrrry….wipe me….wipe me.

Larrrrrrrry….wipe me….wipe me.” Just as the ‘One Ring’ corrupted Golem, the Dude Wipes had perverted Larry’s mind. He wanted them so badly, they were precious to him.

Larry jumped on top of the shelf like a rabid monkey and lunged for the Dude 13

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Wipes, but he couldn’t quite reach it on the top shelf. He climbed higher and elevated himself a few feet off the ground – enough so that his arms could reach the top. He stretched out his right hand and grabbed the box of Dude Wipes! He grasped them tightly and pulled them towards his body and savored the moment. He was one with his precious.

However, this motion had imbalanced the shelving structure and it began to wobble back and forth. It slowly tipped forward in Larry’s direction. The motion accelerated and in the blink of an eye, it CRASHED! A giant thump rocketed throughout the bunker, followed by the sound of broken glass and crushed cardboard. Leaving behind a whirlwind of dust and debris that spiraled in the air.

T

ed and Jeff came rushing into the bunker and found Larry trapped underneath the broken shelf. They hastily dashed to him and pushed aside broken pieces of wood, cardboard, and the occasional can of Campbell’s Chunky Noodle Soup that covered his body.

Ted and Jeff stood over Larry examining him for any injuries. Ted spoke first, “Larry, are you okay, should I call an ambulance?”

Covered in dust and debris, Larry slowly sat upright and coughed out a response, “No…no, I’m fine, can you help me up.”

Larry raised his arms. Ted and Jeff hoisted him back up to his feet.

“Really? I didn’t feel anything and when we ran down here, it didn’t look like my wine cellar suffered any damage.” Ted said. “But then again, this bunker might be more dangerous than I thought.” He looked around and examined the damage, “I’m just glad you’re okay Lar. Let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up, you got dust all over you.”

Ted brushed away the dust covering Larry’s forearms and then made his way to his shoulders – but then he abruptly stopped. He noticed that there was a rip in Larry’s backpack and that some type of white material was sticking out of it. Ted grabbed the white substance and rubbed it between his fingers. His eyes awakened with suspicion. Without saying a word, he grabbed the backpack’s zipper and yanked it down hard. Rolls of toilet paper, albeit crushed from Larry’s fall, tumbled to the ground.

Larry zipped around and saw that Ted was holding one of the crushed rolls in his hands. Ted was shaking his head with a look of motherly disappointment.

“Larry, I can’t believe that you’re trying to steal from me. You really are fanatical about this whole Coronavirus situation. I’m so disappointed, and I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you’re a thief or that you’ve been completely insensitive to Jeff ’s prostate pain!”

Jeff ’s eyes grew wide as he gazed at Larry – who looked back at Jeff with an equally dumbfounded expression.

T

hey bitterly drove away from Ted’s house empty-handed as Jeff chastised Larry, “You just had to go for the Dude Wipes, didn’t you? You couldn’t just be content with normal toilet paper like everyone else? You’re like Icarus, you flew too close to the sun and got burned!”

“I admit, things could have gone smoother back there.” Larry grumbled.

“Well, now we’re screwed. I’m T-minus two hours before this Chipotle bomb goes off and Susie is going to end my life once she finds out that we’re out of toilet paper.

I might as well go get the Coronavirus now because then I’ll at least have another 14 days of life in quarantine before I’m executed.”

Larry pleaded, “There’s still time, why don’t we drive down to Tijuana and look there. The border with Mexico hasn’t closed down yet.”

“Haven’t you seen the news? The cartels have already started fighting over the toilet paper trade. At this rate, the next season of Narcos will be about the Cottonelle cartel.”

“What about…”

“Larry Stop! It’s over, we failed I don’t want to talk anymore. I am going to drop you off at home and then face Susie.”

The two men, feeling beleaguered and deflated, sat in the car silently for the next 15 minutes as Jeff drove to Larry’s house. Eventually, they arrived at his neighborhood and began to notice something strange. Dozens of people were lined up on the sidewalk in a single file line. They were staring at their phones, listening to music, and so on, all patiently waiting for something. Jeff and Larry both peered out their window at the crowd with faint intrigue.

Jeff took a right turn and headed down the last street to reach Larry’s house. The line of people continued in the same direction as they were heading. In fact, the line led right to Larry’s house. Larry’s face was in a state of bewilderment. His eyebrows were raised, and his mouth was drooped open as he tried to ponder what was going on, and then it hit him – Leon!

to imagine the worst-case scenarios: Was Leon selling drugs? Was he selling fake Coronavirus medicine? Or maybe he was prostituting out his body? Leon had bragged about his sexual prowess and willingness to experiment before, but that couldn’t be it, there’s just too many people here. To handle this volume his DPH level (dick per hour) would have to be off the charts, but then again, he could just be providing hand stuff.

Larry pushed aside his anxieties and swung open the door. Leon was sitting on the edge of a couch; his shoulders were hunched over a wooden table where his shadow loomed over a giant pile of cash.

Dozens and dozens of $100 bills, $20s, $10s, and so on were spread out all over the table. As if he was a poker dealer in Las Vegas, Leon systematically counted bills and stacked them in their appropriate pile.

However, it wasn’t the stacks of money that had mesmerized Larry, rather, it was the stacks of products that were sitting behind Leon. A vast assortment of products – soap, hand sanitizer, diapers, disinfectant spray, Clorox wipes, washing detergent, and even toilet paper – were all piled up at least four feet high. All the best toilet paper brands were there, including Charmin, Cottonelle, AngleSoft, Scotts, Quilted Northern, Quilted Southern (confederate edition), and even bamboo toilet paper from Whole Foods. Seemingly out of place next to the toilet paper lay a very rich collection of condoms: Trojan

standard, Trojan her pleasure, Trojan his pleasure, Trojan horse pleasure, and Trojan Magic Mike XXL. Leon acknowledged Larry’s arrival and boasted, “Larry, my man, where have you been all day? Do you like what I’ve done with the place?” Leon got up from his make-shift throne and put his arm around Larry, “What did I tell you LD? The first stage of any pandemic is self butt-hole preservation.”

Larry broke free from his stupor and muttered, “What is all this….how…how did you get it all? I’ve been all over town, and everything is sold out already.”

“Alright, so you remember when we were talking two nights ago when we were watching the news about the pandemic?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I told you that I was going to stock up the next day on supplies?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I went to Costco first thing in the morning and while everyone else rushed for can foods and bottled water, I bought out all their toilet paper in one transaction. Everyone was pissed, one guy even offered me $100 for a pack. This got me thinking that I needed to go even bigger! So, I rented a U-Haul and spent the last 36 hours traveling to all the Walmarts, Targets, Krogers, you name it in Southern

The car came to a stop at the foot of the driveway. Larry jumped out and assessed the situation. It appeared that the line was winding around to the back of his property towards the pool house – where Leon happened to live. Larry went into speed-walking mode and began maneuvering through the mob of people as if he was going through airport security.

He passively-aggressively apologized for cutting in line to get to his own house and sardonically told some that they were in the wrong line as this one was only for those with TSA pre-check.

As Larry neared the pool house, he could hear Leon’s faded voice in the background, “Next in line, cash only, let’s go, let’s go.” These words sent shockwaves through Larry’s system and caused him

“What did I tell you LD? The first stage of any pandemic is self butt-hole preservation...

I’m even starting to formulate a pretty good theory about human behavior when the vaccines for this virus arrive” – Leon CURB YOUR PANDEMIC

14

California and buying up their supplies.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I planned to sell it all on eBay and hike up the prices, but all my auctions kept getting shut down for price manipulation or some bullshit. So, I realized that I needed to liquate the product ASAP before the Feds got to me. This brings me to this morning – where I put the word out on Facebook!” Leon let out a cocky laugh and continued, “I’m selling each roll of toilet paper for $30, or $100 for a pack of 4. Hand sanitizer for $20 per ounce. Oh and diapers, that’s been the real money maker, at $50 per diaper. I’m even starting to formulate a pretty good theory about human behavior when the vaccines for this virus finally arrive. I’m going to be drowning in cash when this is all over with!”

“What is wrong with you? You’re taking advantage of people, it’s shameful, truly shameful! Part of me wants to call the cops right now, just to get all these people off my property and to teach you a lesson.” Larry lowered his voice and inched closer to Leon, “But, I might be willing to overlook the situation if we could come to some type of arrangement…if you know what I mean?”

Leon crossed his arms and itched his nose while he stared down Larry, assessing the legitimacy of his threat. Larry in turn met his gaze. They had gone through this dance many times before and were well versed in each other’s bluffs.

They continued their standoff until Leon relented, “Alright LD, I think we can come some kind of arrangement, what do you want?”

Larry admired the endless expanse of home sanitary products like a kid in a candy store and replied, “Give me an 8 pack of the Charmin, a bottle of disinfectant spray, and an ounce….no make it two ounces… of the hand sanitizer – lemon scented.”

“And a pack of the AngelSoft!!” A panting Jeff bellowed the request as he stood hunched over in the doorway entrance with his hands on his knees.

“Fine! But that’s it, we’re even now.”

Leon pronounced as he begrudgingly picked out the items from his make-shift store and placed them on the table next to his stacks of cash. “Alright, Larry, what do you want these in. Paper or plastic?”

Larry tilted his head and produced a crooked smile, “I’ll take half and half.”

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CURB YOUR PANDEMIC