"HORROR IN THE WIND"
Breathe In. Come Out.
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What’s the worst horror you can imagine? How about this? Yesterday you were a regular, normal heterosexual with a wife and kids just like your neighbors and most people in your town. But today you’re genetically modified.
It came in the night and you breathed it in your lungs. It got into your bloodstream and manipulated your identity. Its airborne biogenetic engineering agent (Formula 4708) is splicing your RNA messenger cells without your permission. Your edited RNA messengers tell your brain what cells to supercharge and what cells to deactivate. Yes, your hypothalamic cell cluster is getting smaller. Your anterior commissure growing larger. And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. You’re gay. That’s right. Queer as a three dollar bill.
You knew you felt different when you woke up but you didn’t quite know what it was. You couldn’t find anything you’d wear in public. You lingered a little too long over the sports page gazing at soccer players in their skimpy shorts. When you got to work, you stared at your best friend’s ass all morning. And when he noticed, he asked you out for a drink after work. How are you going to deal with this horror? Will it go away? And when it doesn’t, how will you be able to deal with it?
Your wife went out and bought that set of power tools she told you last month you couldn’t afford. And now she’s fixing the fence for that cute blonde babe next door. Yup, she’s gay too. And so are your friends, neighbors, and (oh my God) your kids. Everyone, that is, except the gays. They’re all straight now. Still in the minority. In a few short days, the whole world becomes gay. Atlanta to Shanghai , Sidney to Moscow.
Now that gays are the majority, life looks different. Those horrible slums across town? Designer redos. And, hey, isn’t it about time your main squeeze enjoyed sports as much as you. But the military refuses to fight. The guy who cuts your hair quit the business. You can’t let this happen. Scientists will find an antidote for sure. Won’t they? How long will it take? A year? Two? And when an antidote is finally found, you’ll be first in line to take it. Won’t you?
