I slept contentedly, living my normal life in a normal suburban home with a delightfully normal family.
Then the pleasant night suddenly turned into hours of trying to sleep—the pure definition of uncomfortable. Indeed, the night was hot and sweaty—after all, it was the middle of June, and I was stuck in the middle of a loadshedding session our “lovely” town management decided to bestow upon us.
Annoying, right? As I tossed and turned, all disgustingly sweaty and barely able to sleep at 3 o’clock in the morning, I thought to myself, What if I were the Mayor? I wouldn’t torture my people like this! I would provide them with the most lovely town ever—pure bliss!
After hours of trying, my body couldn’t keep up anymore, and finally… I slept! I was knocked out for a few good hours until I was woken by a loud ringing at the door. I woke up in a bigger room than the one I had before. I thought I was kidnapped and almost started screaming—looking around half asleep, worried I had gone insane, and preparing to make a run for it—until I noticed the air conditioner, which made my possible kidnapping worth it.
I now fully activated my consciousness—same body (I think? Still not sure)—but wearing a pair of velvet pajamas and having my hair tied up into a bun, which made me look ten times older and was disgusting. Untying it was my first priority.
My brain could not process all that was going on, so I did what that one YouTube survival hacks video taught me in 2019: I took a deep breath, remained calm, and looked around for any clues about what was happening. I stood up and stared blankly at the vanity. A file was placed there—perhaps containing valuable information.
I opened it and read in a whispery voice. Every page was boring and lengthy—text only people with a magnifying glass—no, an ultra-strong microscope—could read. I squinted at every word with care, making sense of numbers that looked like letters and letters that looked like numbers. Filled with stupidity, I realized I had forgotten to look at the first page, which probably had the most valuable information. Quickly flipping back a few pages, I saw a big, bold heading in elegant writing:
“Emaan the Mayor; schedule”
I could not believe it, though I already suspected I was the one who made this since it was all aesthetic and green—I love green.
The bell rang again. I gently walked over, and a young man was standing there with enough papers to last someone fourteen years—and maybe a few months after that.
“Ma’am, these laws need to be approved by tomorrow.”
He gave me a few of these papers—thank God it wasn’t the whole stack. I would just sign these and live in luxury for the rest of how long I was in this body, as the mayor of my town!
Although this small pile was larger than I thought, it required brainpower. I began to realize how much our schools overlooked teaching us to think critically—like actually using our brains in debating and thinking… or maybe I wasn’t paying attention in class!
Nevertheless, with the peanut brain I had remaining, I signed and approved laws that seemed right and disapproved of laws I found morally wrong:
“Dogs should not be kept in homes; they are loud and messy, causing irritation and complaints from neighbors.”
I get where they are coming from, but people who already have dogs can’t just disown them—they could be family to them. I think some extra measures should be taken, I wrote.
I kept doing what I thought was right and didn’t ask for advice from others, which was a mistake looking back. After that catastrophe, I’ll never ever doubt asking for help.
In the last law—something utterly horrifyingly controversial, where the chances of me making the right choice were slim—everything was morally grey and very political.
I had my head scratching for an hour before I got fed up and wrote “whatever.” Little did I know…
I changed out of my velvet pajamas and wore a chic and stylish dress—Mayor Me has good fashion sense! I hopped on my favorite device, a laptop! Opening and checking emails because I don’t usually get them, and they’re fun to respond to if you have a handful, that is. But Mayor Me had so many! One of them requested my presence at a local charity fair, and another one for a council meeting.
My moral compass led me to join the charity fair, where I was greeted warmly—so that’s a bonus. When I got there, I received a lot of missed calls from people. I was really starting to snuggle into the position of mayor: greet and repeat. I was so in the flow until the event ended and I had to come home to an angry email from a member about the law where I literally wrote the word “whatever.”
Rushing to the head office, I saw a mob of angry civilians and cars, angry office members mad at my teensy choice. Being a mayor is so pressuring—I will never underestimate them or complain about 30 minutes of loadshedding by their orders again! Well, that’s an empty promise, but still!
And then, I woke up and fell asleep so quickly as if I had actually experienced this pressure.
the words, jokes, and storyline in this are completely original, by Emaan, though there have been minor grammar improvements by A.I.
Comments
Post a Comment