What if Oranges Tasted like Bananas and Bananas Tasted like Apples?

On the surface, it seems like a minor difference, but the effects of a world with different-flavored fruits is the perfect example of the butterfly effect.

Little Johnny hated the taste of oranges, but loved the taste of bananas, but with the flavors now switched around, Little Johnny eats the oranges instead. There's just one problem: Johnny is allergic to oranges, and it just so happens that Johnny was going to be the 63rd President of the united states, the same president that stops nuclear war between the U.S. and the Vatican.

But none of that applies to you now. You, having lived in this alternate, hypothetical reality your whole life, unaware that your existence is slowly spinning out of control. Like a time bomb on a merry go round, things will soon spiral outward so fast that they blow up in your face like a mixed metaphor on a lampshade getting its mind blown. The only hint you have that anything is out of order is that when you sit down to occasionally make a smoothie for yourself. It just feels different...not right. If only you could place it.

To bad you can't. Prepare for Armaggedon.

Now you know.

What if you had the Choice Between Galactic Domination or Universal Domination?

This is an understandably difficult decision for you. Both jobs are a huge improvement on your current position as a bull-weevil milker. You're confident that you can handle the galactic domination position without any problem. On the other hand, there is an even better job, but you aren't sure you are ready for the challenges that come with being the ruler of the known universe. Let's not bite off more then we can chew here. To make matters more complicated, becoming universal dominator means backstabbing your dark lord and master Zarton. You decide to "promote yourself."

Zarton, being all knowing, instantly realizes what you are trying to do and evaporates you with his mind.

Now you know.

What if the Law didn't Apply to You?

You're going 85 in a 60, drunk, sick and careless. As you swerve across the bold, yellow lines, the blueish, reddish, bluish, reddish, lights of a police car flash behind you. Sure, you don't have to pull over, but you feel it's the polite thing to do. After all, the officer doesn't know your situation. He pulls his car up to you on the rear left hand side of you. He walks up to you funny, like he has a bad case of hemorrhoids or something.

"Do you know how fast you were going?" the officer says.

"Why yes I do," you reply, "but I think there's something you should know before you continue. with your little talk here..."

"You were going 85 in a 60!" he interrupts.

"Well, now, see I realize that, but there's something you need to know."

"And you were swerving all over the road! Have you been drinking?"

"Why now, yes officer, yes I have. Heavily." you add. "But you really need to understand something."

He puts a sarcastic smile on his face. "Oh, there's something I need to know, is there? And what is it that I need to know? What could possibly be so important that me pulling you over and arresting you for endangering the lives of all these people has to wait?"

"Well, officer. The law doesn't apply to me."

At first he breaks out laughing. That's when you show him the papers.

"This one," you say, "was signed for me by my parents when I was first born. It was a legal document nullifying the social contract. My parents refused to give me a birth certificate or a driver's license or anything. In fact, this isn't even my car."

"Who's car is it?" he carefully studies you with his eyes.

"Some guy's," you reply. "I dunno. I stole it."

"That wasn't very nice." says the officer.

"Yeah, he was pretty upset when I first told him, but after I told him the law doesn't apply to me, he seemed to understand."

The officer scratches his head. "Well," he says. "Given the circumstances, I guess I can't technically arrest you because you aren't technically from here. Just try not to speed so much because you're putting lives at risk."

"hmm. Maybe. I'll think about it." you say.

You're such a jerk. You drive away proud, thinking you've won. Little do you know he's called the INS on you to have your technically illegal alien ass deported. So...have fun in Mexico.

Now you know.

What if the Obnoxious Asian Dude from Iron Chef America Decided on a Career change?

"So America, with an open heart and an empty stomach, I say unto you in the words of my uncle, ALLEZ CUISINE!"

Sure, he looks like he's having the time of his life, but in reality, the "chairman" is sick of doing Iron Chef. He only studied martial arts because his father wanted him to, and now he feels silly. His real life dream is to be a librarian. Everyday, when he comes home from work, he secretly studies referencing and methods for directing browsers to the right section of books. He even knows how to order new books for the library, and he is really psyched up about the whole thing. Tomorrow his last episode airs. Today, he has a job interview, at the Middleton Public Library. You are the interviewer.

"Mr Dacascos." you say. "It is a pleasure to meet you, I'm a huge fan. Tell me, though, Are you sure that this is what you want to do?"

"Of course!" he loudly exclaims. "I've wanted to be a librarian my whole life! I LOVE libraries!"

A few people behind him say "shhhh" in an utterly stereotypical fashion.

He grabs two books, looks like he's going to open one, but then opens the other.

You look him in the eyes. "It's just that..." You say with a meek, face-saving look in your face, "It's just that...librarians tend to have more...subdued personalities."

"Oh" he says. "Oh, I see."

He looks down at the floor, crushed. You can't stand to see him like that. He just sits there that way for a few moments, and you, being the timid person that you are, finally gather enough courage to speak again.

"Look," you say, "Maybe I'm being too judgmental."

He looks up surprised and wipes away his wet cheeks. "Really?"

"Really. You start Monday next week."

"THANK-YOU!" he screams at the top of his lungs. On the way out the building, he does two somersaults and a cartwheel. Then, he karate-kicks the reference section.

You expect him to scare away all the old ladies. He does. However, he also brings in all the children with his vibrant personality. He will be assigned to the children's library and do a fantastic job until he reaches the five year mark. That's when he'll be fired for accidentally elbowing a kid in the face while reading Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends.

Now you know.

What if Virgins could fly?

You aren't quite sure about your girl. You were thinking of making tonight the night, but you just don't know if she's ever done it before. You've never seen her fly, but that doesn't mean anything. You need definite proof. You decide to take her to the top of the space needle, blindfolded.

"You can look now." You say.

a barely audible gasp jumps out her throat.

"It's amazing." she says.

She is looking very cute and perky in her olive green dress and hipster glasses. You run your fingers through her hair and give her a very delicate kiss on the nape of her neck. The cool, misty night air is perfect. She coos a contented sigh.

"Thank-you. This is wonderful."

It is now or never. You push her off the tower, because the burning desire to know overwhelms your common sense. Sure enough, she flies back up to you. She has a contorted, perhaps puzzled look on her face.

"How did you know I was a virgin?" she says.

"I didn't," you reply. "but if you didn't fly, I would have caught you."

"You mean?"

"Yes."

The two of your fly together, hand in hand, uncaring of what the world thinks of you. You reach a secluded beach and, taking care to fly over only the shallow part of the ocean, proceed to share what is so far the best sex of your lives.

The next day she dumps you for someone with "more experience." You did throw her off the space needle, after all.

Now you know.

What if Ashton Kutcher Could Breathe Fire?

He just finished a prank where he made Johnny Depp spill water all over himself. "It's just water," Ashton thinks to himself, "and it makes for some good T.V."

Depp just looks at him.

"YOU'VE BEEN PUNKED!" Ashton says.

"You know," says Depp. "This...this just isn't funny anymore. You call that a prank? That was just lame. You've lost your touch Ashton," Johnny says. "That is, if you ever had it."

Ashton turns bright red. He freaks out and torches Depp's face. Johnny could have made some crack about breath mints to Ashton in his final last gasps of agonizing death, but unlike some actors, Johnny's above that.

Now you know.

What if everyone was required by law to go to clown school?

It started as a half prank, half protest against senators tacking on last minute addendums to bills. Your local congressman thought he was doing a good deed. He thought that even though everyone thought the health care bill was great, nobody would be stupid enough to pass it with that little extra part added in.

Apparently, your local congressman thought wrong. Apparently, the bill was that important.

Now, everyone has to go to clown school, because it's unAmerican not to. Really, a sense of humor is a good thing, but to require it for citizenship seems like they're taking things a little far.

Nevermind that now. You're here at your first day of clown class, wondering what use you will gain from learning clown tricks, especially since you are a very sober-minded accountant.

"Hey," The guy next to you says, "this sure is lame, right?"
The man is wearing a pinstripe, water-proof business suit with a blood red power tie. He has perfectly round glasses and a crewcut.

"Yeah." You reply nonchalantly.

Suddenly, the guy rips off the suit to reveal it was just a clever disguise, and out steps a clown.

"Hello everybody," He says. "Lesson one. The art of surprise. If you can mislead someone. You can make them laugh."

He honks his blood red clown nose.

You stare at him for a while, and soon can't help but laugh. Maybe you thought wrong of him. Maybe this clown gig won't be so bad after all. Maybe all the world really needs is a little laughter. That's when the police come in and arrest the clown for child abuse.

Now you know.

What if the Beatles turned into actual beetles?

The year is 1966, and Jon, Paul, and George are all convinced it's just the LSD. You and Ringo know better. In a horrifying Kafkaesque twist of fate, you know that your favorite band has been struck by a strange case of metamorphosis.

The Beatles have all turned into beetles. Was God annoyed by their seemingly clever pun, or was it just a random cosmic quirk in the universe? You can never really know for sure. What you do know is that little music comes from them nowadays. Just the irritating fluttering sound of their wings flapping at a rate of one gazillion times a second. Nowadays Ringo just likes to climb up and down your ficus, chewing on the leaves. And Paul? He spends his days flying from one side of the wall to the next and back. He doesn't even remember his old identity as a musician.

Imagine it...a world with no White Album, its easy if you try. No Let it Be, only a Hard Day's Night. Imagine no Sgt Pepper, it isn't hard to do. No Yellow Submarine, no Abbey Road too.

Now you know.

What if drinking gave people superpowers?

Imagine the implications on history. Prohibition. Ireland. William Churchill. That guy drank all the time. WWII would have been won in an instant.

But think also of the now.

Do you really want rednecks running the country? The last thing we need is a some jerk with heat vision lodgepoling his wife around. How are you supposed to pick a fight with that guy?

Imagine that giant Superbowl party you went to last year. Remember when that guy got really wasted and just to be funny, decided to throw himself off the balcony of the second story apartment? Sure, everybody tried to stop him, and when he sprained his ankle he learned his lesson. Now, imagine he did that and just started flying. Everybody would just be ticked off.

And let's not forget drunken showmanship. "Hey guys, check this out. I'm freezing off my own balls."

Now you know.

What if Jesus Caught the T Virus?

There's a reason he can cure the crippled. He's been injected with a special virus that goes to the root of the DNA and reanimates dead tissue. Apparently, Roman scientists didn't think that would be a problem. To make matters worse, He can move faster than any human being alive and live longer without food.

Sure, the heresy thing was annoying for the Sanhedrin, but what really panicked them was the idea of Christians coming back from beyond the grave to eat their brains. A liver would also do nicely. Christians don't exactly have to worry about kosher.

They thought they had the problem solved. They killed Him, and then used the "heretic" gig to cover it all up and prevent a panic, but they forgot to attack the head.

Always go for the head. It worked for John the Baptist.

They figured if they rolled a giant stone over it, that would be enough, but it wasn't. Three days later, the infection begins. Seven days later, half of The Mediterranean is the undead. Fourty days later, all but one Roman shopping mall is left standing. They should have been prepared, for it is written, "Do not tempt the Lord thy God with brains."


Now you know.