I watched as I floated away from my mother.

I watched as I floated away from my mother. Who knew being a polar bear could be so tough? I couldn't swim to her, and she couldn't exactly swim to me either. There was a huge

camera crew on a nearby raft. They were filming a global warming documentary. Mom and I decided to ham it up; a little sympathy could land us in a cushy zoo, one with other bears

who'd had to leave home due to melting polar ice caps. So Mama Bear taught me to endear myself to audiences. For hours I had to sit in the snow and drink fizzy cola for the cameras

And then the owner of Adapt 2030 called me back because the grand solar minimum was back with a vengeance. The global cooling had started by the time I arrived to find my family in

a 1930s behemoth of a refrigerator. The government had assured them it was global warming ready. We all fit inside but then the door closed and we were locked inside. An ice age

passed, humans were wiped out; true to comicbook science, we were thawed out years later by intelligent anthropomorphic cockroaches whom inherited the Earth and its gambling debts.

Of course, we would be slaves to these uplifted cockroaches for many generations, until the gambling debts were finally paid off. But I had a plan so cunning, you could

stab it with a fork. While the cockroaches were asleep, I set out plates piled high with poisoned pumpkin pie that I was sure they couldn't refuse. Then I went back to bed and

awoke the next morning refreshed & eager to face the new day. Then I woke up. There was a pumpkin pie head of me covered in #5 Red colored corn syrup beside me in bed. Cockroaches!

Then, I went back to sleep, I guess. The whole thing is a blur to me now; I had dropped that tab of Strawberry Sunshine in the Summer of ’69, but I do enjoy the random flashback.