Every so often in the history of the world, some smart person comes up with a truly great idea – the kind that saves lives, makes millions of dollars, and forever alters the course of history.

This is not one of those ideas.

In fact, it’s not even close. I would rank it somewhere in between “Easy Mac” and “dancing hamsters” on the all-time great ideas list.

And understand, there’s a lot of gray area on this list, so ideas like green ketchup and squeeze-bottled peanut butter ‘#38; jelly still have a place – albeit a low one, beneath such classics as the pet rock, acid-washed jeans, and the 80s in general.

So, what’s the idea? Imagine if I polled people on the street and asked them what would make a funny column, then took all their responses and combined them into one uber awesome short fiction piece.

Ordinarily such a crackpot idea would never fly, but with the hot breath of an ever-approaching deadline breathing down my neck, I have no choice but to let the adventure begin:

Derrick grinned to himself as he thought about how great the past two weeks had been.

Not only had he been promoted to junior assistant towel boy for the football team, but this new girl he just started dating was simply amazing in every way. Life couldn’t be better even if he tried.

True, he thought, the football team had lost two of its last three games, and approximately half of the team’s players were injured from getting in a fight with those bozos who were always trying to balance their bikes on the statue outside Olscamp, but that was nothing to worry about.

Although, he did have food poisoning from eating some unidentifiable mystery meat at “Streetside,” the name given to the freshman dormitory cafeteria by University officials desperately trying to fool clueless visitors with an upscale-sounding name (although everyone knows its real name rhymes with “bacateria” and starts with “Mac”).

Oh yeah, and he was still mad at that rabbit for running onto the field during the last home game. But overall life was going along pretty swell.

“I have to admit, though, the rabbit was faster than all the players. And more entertaining. And it did score more touchdowns,” Derrick said to himself. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

In the back of his head, however, lurked something more far more serious.

Someday soon, Derrick realized, he would have to muster up the courage to tell his parents about the very thing he had dreaded since the day he discovered the truth.

He could just imagine the conversation now: “Mom, Dad, you may want to sit down. I have something to tell you … my girlfriend is a Smurf.” Derrick cringed as he thought of how his parents would respond. They would probably ask a lot of questions; they always did.

“Yes, she’s blue. No, she’s not pregnant, that’s just her stomach. Yes, it’s normal for female Smurfs her age to have mustaches. No, we haven’t even kissed yet …” Derrick woke up with a start, the sound of his conversation echoing off the walls as sweat dripped off his forehead.

“It was just a bad dream,” he told himself. “Just a nightmare. None of it was real.” He rolled over and froze – lying on the floor was a miniature set of blue clothing, crumpled up in a heap. The kind of clothing a Smurf would wear…

‘#160;

Jim is not majoring in creative writing, for obvious reasons. Send him more column ideas at [email protected].