The Attack of the Quarantine Karens

On April 20, 2020, three Karens from different cities in the United States of America banded together. Their mission was to open every non-essential business across America. But their bond went deeper than their selfish need for haircuts. Yes. Though their gray roots sprouted several inches past their usual bleach session, what brought them together was their collective need to scream at anyone who made less money than them. 

The three Karens drove from all across the country to get to Minneapolis, Minnesota. One came from Denver, Colorado. One came from Lansing, Michigan. And the final Karen hailed from Atlanta, Georgia. 

“You liberal scum you leotard hangliding riff raff scallywag yellowbelly mommy yupping gum cock,” They chanted collectively under their breath. “You’ll never tell me what to do. Not ME. My body. MY rights.” They went through this long bizzare phrase until they blushed with fatigue. 

“Governor Tim Walz will not let these ladies get haircuts,” said Lansing Karen, motioning to her surroundings. The streets were empty, save a few cars. 

“Our government is losing its mind,” Atlanta Karen said. “All we need to do is get Trump down here and fix everything.” 

Just then, a popping sound echoed through their empty heads. 

“What is this?” Denver Karen pushed her gooey fingers into her ears.

“It’s like Pop Rocks!” Atlanta Karen screamed. “I only know because my 37 year old son eats them everyday with his breakfast. He’s a strong boy, he really is.” 

“MAKE IT STOP,” Bellowed Lansing Karen, clutching her ears. 

“You cannot make it stop,” came a loud voice from below. The three Karens looked down. At their feet stood an army of 1-inch creatures. There must’ve been a few hundred of them. Their bodies were neon green and smooth. The army took up the same space as two standard-size SUV tires (new tires, like from a lease). 

“Only we can stop it,” said the creature. With that, he snapped his tiny fingers and the popping noise stopped. 

Atlanta Karen put her hands on her hips and narrowed her beady eyes. “And who do you think you are, exactly?” 

“We are the virus,” he replied. “And unfortunately for everyone here, nature is healing.” 

The three Karens signed the cross, turned in a circle and spit. “You can’t say those words here!” 

“My name is Covid,” continued the 1-inch creature. He gestured to his army, “And these are the Chads. We can help you three brave women achieve your goals. You want to dye those roots? Done. You need to pick up some overly-religious birthday cards for your gay niece in a longrunning effort to smack the devil out of her? Done. You want to drink vodka sodas at your favorite tiki bar? Done. All we need is one small favor.” 

The three karens turned to each other in a huddle. All three heads touched, though their hair was sharpened with copious amounts of hairspray and poked each other’s eyes. They finished their muttering and turned to Covid, crossing their arms. 

“We’re going to need to speak to your manager,” They said in unison, turning up their noses. 

Covid furrowed his brows. “That’s obviously me,” he snapped. “I literally just said…nevermind.” 

At this, a seething rage went through all three karens. So strong that their bodies lifted into the air as a single thought raced through them. How dare this tiny neon asparagus head talk to me like this. The tone! 

——————————————————————

Long story short, Chad and the Covids took over the brains of the three Karens, who in turn rounded up an angry mob of dumbasses. They all became infected, millions of people died. Fortunately, most of these deaths were the dumbest and greediest people on the planet. This has positively affected the bell curve of idiocy. Humanity is collectively more intelligent now. 

Once Chad and the Covids succeeded in reducing overpopulation by way of eliminating evildoers (their true goal all along), they sunk back into the Earth and became seeds. Over the next few years, humanity saw a surge of beautifully tall trees pop up all over the world, one by one. 

You want to know about the other people who needlessly died because of the Karens? They were some of the kindest and hardworking people humanity had. Doctors, nurses, grocery store clerks, garbage handlers. Their names are engraved in glass sculptures all over the world. 

Excerpt from Sort of Super Volume 1

Here’s an excerpt from the beginning of Sort of Super. Randy Bones has just stumbled out of the spaceship onto a new planet and is accosted by an old man claiming to give him superpowers.

“You get four options,” the man began.

Four options? “Isn’t it usually three?” Randy asked the stranger.

The old man snapped, “The number of options depends on which type of people we’re short on.”

“Wha-? There are types? But that means I’m not…” he tried to think of a word that wouldn’t make him sound like a whining schoolboy, but time was running thin. “I’m not special?”

“No. You were chosen from among the earthlings because of your incredible generic-ness. You are average in almost every way.” Delight oozed from the man’s face as he continued, “Average height, average weight, job performance. Even your romantic life is average. You’ve had sex twice in the past year. Honestly I’m quite pleased you’re one of my recruits. What you do excel at, however, is imagination. Your thoughts are almost constantly going to another world. That’s value.”

Randy wanted to cry. He wasn’t special? Someone was reading his mind? How many sexual fantasies did this old man know about? How did he know about his sex life? And hell, he thought working as a daytime receptionist for a music venue was hella cool but whatever!