A Winged Prophecy

People like to tell you how things are going to be. That's the problem with prophecy- it's just another case of "I told you so."

The oracles at Delphi didn't have to deal with the incessant whining of grubby teenagers. I did. And let me tell you, I would have chosen the creepy old Greek guys.

When the world saw dragons for the first time, it wasn't a storybook moment, unless you count the original Hans Christian Andersen's. The land engulfed in fire, the seas boiled, and the true Gods laughed.

This is part of the story where I tell you that I'm one of the resistance fighters or some hero with a burning tale of vengeance. But I'm not. I'm just a scout leader that got caught with his pants down. NO! Not like that. Bathroom. I saw the dragons return out of the window of a ranger waystation. I stopped to deal with some lingering dysentery (thanks, Ometepe) and found my scout troop missing. If I hadn't had just gone, I would have shit myself when I saw the dragon drop into the valley.

It looked like a fever dream. Nothing that big is supposed to fly. I know you're always supposed to worry about the kids first- but being in Glacier and seeing the winged incarnation of doom, all I could think was, no merit badge is worth this.

If there were enough people left to judge me, I'd be worried, but there aren't.

Global carbon emissions have plummeted as the human footprint disappears. I wish I had downloaded my music before this happened. Internet running out crashed the collective intelligence of our species. Most people don't realize their lack of critical thinking skills until their life depends on it.

Some places adjusted better than others. Siberia's population is the same, as with Alaska, parts of Montana, Minnesota, and Afghanistan. Say what you will, those people know how to survive.

Bicycles found a new love for a brief period. Until the nickname "meals on wheels" came into effect after some gruesome drive-by ingestions. Turns out, humans had to rely on their own two feet. Not exactly fair in a scenario where your opponent has four feet and wings. Tough shit, though.

Outside of the flying horrors and lack of company, life in a dragon ruled world beat the previous one. Not working at a Wendy's any was enough to praise the fire-filled serpents, but the quiet new landscape awoke a guilty peace. Before everything turned to guano, I kept questioning why I pretended I wanted to be anywhere besides the woods. Running the scout troop proved the only viable excuse to be in nature all weekend. Unless I wanted to be like the Zakowski twins, which given their moonshine and chili habits, I didn't.

Is life more mortally stressful with man-eating dragons flying through the skies, hoping to root out the last of my kind? Arguably. Do I get to enjoy trails and abandoned Trader Joe's to myself? Yes. It all shakes out in the end.

The Pulp Wars: A History of Florida's Fall

There are few things in life you need to take a firm side on- and the presence of pulp in orange juice is one of them.

The cultivation of citrus has a contentious history in the United States. Dating back to the initial disappointments of the Florida territory not possessing the fountain of youth, young colonizers smashed oranges to manage their aggression. Outside of the unstoppable flow of time, a brief air of calm held the burgeoning territory in its grasp, until it didn't. A fierce debate surrounded the remains of crushed oranges and the leaked juice. One young man, Francisco Pulplenti, asserted the values of keeping the white detritus. At the same time, his rival, Hernan Alivincoso, slapped Francisco's sloppy goblet away to parade his purified version of the juice.

The history of that day lived within the hearts of every true Floridian. Only through mutual disdain of Louisiana and lemonade were the two opposing forces able to tolerate one another.

Yet, the siren call of conviction corrupted both sides after three hundred years of peace.

Two field hands fell into an argument over which bottle to chill in the mini-fridge for refreshment, and just as it started three hundred years ago, it ended. The groove fell into the two sides of pro and anti-pulp. Small skirmishes peppered the state as chaos spilled onto the streets.

Before the day set, the state had to shut its borders, lest outside forces added to the ongoing battle.

The pro-pulp forces were the vocal minority; their numbers dwarfed by the populist anti-pulp masses.

In the face of overwhelming odds, the pro-pulp prevailed in pitched battles. Whispers began to circle that the pulp gave them supernatural abilities. Soon, the anti-pulp faced internal rumors that they faced a legion of pulp-powered superhumans.

The anti-pulp leadership branded pulp consumption as barbaric and alluded to a connection with witchcraft. The shift from the superhuman narrative towards evil practices quelled the morale loss from the pro-pulp victories.

Just like the noncommital, none were left exempt from choosing sides. Citrus allergy? Still have to choose- otherwise, you'll experience your death allergy.

As with all wars, factions brought it to its knees. The pro-pulp and anti-pulp fought on the pretense of the naval orange being the orange of choice.

Both forces suffered surprise attacks by the Valencia orange and Blood orange armies. The tangerine mercenaries joined the melee while the grapefruit and lemon contingents watched the carnage in disgust.

And so Florida fell- fracturing into several tribes. Each aggressive to defend their groves.

The everglades soon filled with the hum of airboats as covert trade routes formed between former allies, friends, and families. Disney World closed its borders to the rest of the state and used their private airfield to maintain its cult activities. Even still, the Mouse privately funded grapefruit enterprises to dismantle the orange infrastructure.

The corrosive nature of citrus burned into history as the rest of the country drank pale champagne mourning their own tradition. No longer would brunch, nor the nation be the same again.

Cincinnati Sky City

The hidden sky cities were the first treasure of the ancients that global warming revealed. The burning of the ozone led to one of them falling back to Earth- destroying everyone's favorite city, Cincinnati.

In truth, the rest of Ohio, America, and the world took a deeply held sign of relief when they realized the burden of Cincinnati lifted from their lives.

The worldwide celebration took precedence over an investigation of the Sky City. The party lasted for two whole weeks- it was the bastard child of Mardi Gras, Oktoberfest, and a University of Arizona pool party all combined to toast the new age of a Cincinnati-less world.

Some thanked God, others science, but most just shrugged and forgot the town ever existed. As for the giant, self-sustained miracle that lived in the clouds for thousands of years? It didn't have WiFi, so the public collectively shrugged and moved on.

It took a spirited film producer at MTV to convince someone with capital to invest in an expedition into the now earthbound city.

And that's how "MTV Real World: Cincinnati Sky City" was born.

Within a week, the city became almost as famous as a Kardashian- some would even argue a mid-level Jenner. Still, it quickly distanced itself from the initial cold shoulder.

The weekly excitement centered around the most significant problem the contestants faced- boobytraps. Usually, anything that involved "booby" was a positive for former frat boys and sorority sisters turned reality tv contestants, but not in the Sky City. Chad was the first to go after an errant turn delivered a spike pit surprise.

Michael's mishap was more traumatic to the viewers-he saw what he thought was a water bed, only to realize upon his landing that it was an early water heater. Boiled frat boys weren't originally on the menu, but by God, they made it.

Jessica was next- but the blame rests on Stephanie's shoulders- after her big ass shoulders accidentally bumped her into a motion-activated hammer sconce.

The contestants began to crack under pressure- which was reasonable as no one expects death to be apart of the "Real World" even it's a part of the natural world. Most of the pressure centered around they might die on camera in an undignified fashion. No one wants to be the first person to shit themselves on national television AND die. But they couldn't leave. The lawyers at MTV closed up their contracts water-tight. The document clearly stated that in signing them- the broadcast corporation rose to judge, jury, and God in their life. Even in death, they couldn't escape the technicalities they hid in the fine print.

They tried making a break for it, but all the exits were barred. And all the while, the public ate it up. Not even "Prison Break" had that many escape attempts. There hadn't been this sort of desperation since "Fear Factor."

By the time the contestant pool whittled down to three, the deaths and trauma had done their part. The remaining trio looked like extras out of The Hunger Games. They were broken down and reforged in the crucible of the Sky City.

Long gone were the vows of fraternal bonds and trust fund debauchery. The ancient city had hollowed the hope of those boys and hastened their transition to death.

The giant levers and sprockets seamlessly transitioned into the wall that surrounded the city. Never before had MTV been the favored viewing of scientists and party kids alike.

The nation had recovered from its Independence day worthy hangover to track the progress of the remaining dude crew through the inner sanctum of the Sky City. Archaeologists and architects worked together to map out the most viable route to the control room. And then one of the MTV executives altered that path to make the journey more entertaining to the viewers- not the participants.

Once the trio hit the inner sanctum, the live-feed went black. The nation exploded in an anxious fury, many resorting to twitter to ease their worry for their newfound heroes. The leading theory centered around an ancient EMP killed the video drones, leaving the contestants without their national audience or producer input.

A week passed, and several drones made the mechanic sacrifice, but the nation still had no answer to the fate of the fabled three. MTV prepped another contestant batch for a rescue effort, but their chance disappeared along with the city. A low thrum radiated from the city- the surrounding cameras fed images of a slowly rising city to the country.

The cameras couldn't catch any faces as the sky city rose from the ashes of Cincinnati. The drones flew after it, but a sudden thunderstorm dropped them out of the sky, the city without them.