Spoiler Alert
I.
When you turn the faucet on, water will come out and you won’t hear them coming and when they kill you they’ll have actually done you a favor because of the terminal cancer blooming in your gonads, and when you get to Heaven you’ll meet a woman who you always just missed at the bus stop who will take you under her wing until you’re returned to Earth because the date on your death certificate was misread and you become a slightly grumpier version of yourself, except when you use your favorite razor.
II.
When you shave your face, your beard will go away and you’ll find the secret fingerprints that will help you track down your brother who is actually a woman who says she’s your sister when she’s actually your mother and needs you to be her alibi to be freed from a CIA black site in Prague that was once a renowned brewery that you will revive and bring back to prominence in less than three years time and after which you will return to the United States intent on throwing out all the horse meat in your refrigerator.
III.
When you pull the empty carton from the fridge you won’t be having juice with any leftover horse meat and you’ll see the cash in the crisper is bundled in five stacks of $5000 like you didn’t even ask for, and the moisture that’s accumulated on the plastic bag the money’s in contains a tiny cell-mutating microbe that will absorb into the prominent vein that extends from the knuckle of your middle finger to halfway down your arm and thus you’ll stop returning your books to the library no matter how many librarians sacrifice their lives trying to retrieve them from your garage.
IV.
That hummus is almost a year old.
V.
When you turn the key in the ignition your car will start in the garage and the odometer reading will be one number away from the code for the meaning of life and your bare arms will adhere to the leather interior and when you peel your elbows off the armrests the writing imprinted in the skin will be the highlights of a transgender’s interrogation inside a secret Czech prison that smells vaguely of stale pilsner poorly translated by an angel with unreliable eyesight, and even though the prominent vein in your hand is making figure eights under your skin and you should be treated immediately for missing fingerprints and testicular cancer that you mistake for a horse meat addiction you’ll be determined to fight off as many bloodthirsty librarians as it takes with your favorite razor and $25,000 in cash to get back inside your house to wash off your elbows.
