The Last Chapter

The last time I visited my parents, I went digging around in the closet and found a thin, black binder with several plastic covered pages – the autobiography I wrote for my junior high English class, back when I looked like this:


I remember I caused a bit of a stir with the very last chapter of the little book, in which we were supposed to predict our own futures. Now, I don’t actually REMEMBER what I wrote there – I mean, I did write this thing half a lifetime ago. So, let’s take a look at it and laugh together, shall we?

Most people want to know what will be happening to them in the future. Actually, the concept of the future doesn’t bother me much. I’m not too worried about where I will be or who I will be with, but if I had to predict what I will be doing in the future, I have several ideas. Most of them are rather negative, but that’s just the way I am. So, live with it.

After I graduate from Cyprus High School, I will spend two semesters studying English, Science, Mathematics, Choral Music, and the LDS Doctrine and Brigham Young University. I will be there with most of my old friends, including Garret and Darian. My other friends will be off at various other schools. Some will be on their missions, ‘thrusting in their sickles with might.’ I will be looking forward very much to my mission.

Finally, after the two semesters are up, I will receive a call to serve in Russia. The work there will be very difficult, and several times I will become incredibly depressed, but in the end I will pull through with help from my family, friends, and, of course, the Lord. Unfortunately, I will be sent home early from my mission, because I will be attacked and stabbed by an anti-Mormon thug. The injuries will not cause serious damage, but it will be enough to require my being sent home. This experience will shake me, and for the rest of my life I will regret that I was not able to complete my mission.

After recovering from the injury, I will return to college for another three years. I will graduate with a degree in journalism. After spending several months working odd-jobs, I will find employment as a drama critic for the Deseret News. I will spend my off time writing various novels, most of which get published, but none of them ever become really popular. I will also become a minor playwright, but, again, none of my works ever really become successful.

One day, I will receive a letter in the mail from the current principle of Hunter Junior High School. As part of a motivational assembly, he has asked that several of the more renowned alumni of the school come and talk to the students. When my turn comes to address the student body, I tell them a little about the hardships that I had while attending the school. I will warn them several times not to procrastinate, and to always try to be a positive influence on the school. In short, I just become another voice in the back of each little kid’s mind, saying ‘Don’t do this, don’t do that.’

I have never considered myself a candidate for marriage. While attending college, and even after graduating, I will date several different times. I never get married however. Actually, I never date the same person more than twice, just because I will get nervous on dates every time I go on them, even group dates.

My chances for ever getting married are dashed when I am drafted to fight in World War III, when the United States declares war on Iraq. The group of soldiers I am placed with will hop around Northern Africa and the Middle East. My squad will be involved in the Battle of Cairo, where the Iraqi troops unleash a terrible biological weapon that causes skin cells to dry up and flake off the muscles. Luckily, we will be prepared for that type of offensive and will be properly equipped to handle it. After several months of fighting, we will finally win and chase them back into Iraq. While hiking across a small desert I will be separated from the platoon in a sandstorm. After wandering for a few days, I will end up in Iraq, just in time to be caught in the explosion of the U.S.’s H-bomb when it is dropped on the enemy country.

So there you have it: the end of Stephen Bradford’s depressing life. Of course, I doubt that any of the pessimistic details in this prediction will come true, but you did ask for a prediction, and I work the best when I am talking about morbid and depressing subjects. Now if you want to know what I really think will happen, I won’t have an answer for you. Put simply, I have absolutely no clue what the devil I will be doing in college or after I graduate. All I know is that I will go to college, I will at least begin to serve an LDS mission, I will have a career that involves some form of writing, and odds are against me ever getting married.

Oh.

My.

$#%^.

That’s about the most hopeless, depressing thing I’ve ever read – and I’ve read The Grapes of Wrath, 1984, and Les Miser-frickin’-ables. I mean, within the first four paragraphs, I consign myself to a life of misery, mediocrity, regret… and THEN things get WORSE. Geez, I… sweet galloping reindeer of Christmas, I can’t even joke about this anymore. Here, I'ma go drown my predicted woes in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. You cheer yourself up with this picture of a kitten:






I mean, JEEZ!