In the Year 2512

A writing challenge:  How will people celebrate New Years 500 Years in the future?

The Common Household’s responses are below.  Feel free to participate with your own ideas. 

Maybe you will have a more cheerful outlook than our expectations, which include the obesity epidemic normalized, nuclear war as celebration, and global warming bringing on new traditions.  What can I say? New Year’s is not my favorite holiday.  At least the United Federation of Planets plans on having a good time 500 years from now.

Happy New Year!

Oldest Daughter wrote:

“You excited to jump into the Giant Pudding Cup?” Blobby asked his friend, Fat Jones.

“Yeah, dude. I can’t believe we finally get to go this year!”

“I know.” Blobby belched and wiped a greasy hand on his mouth. “Where’s the rest of the pizzas?”

“We only ordered 39,” Fat Jones said. “That’s 13 for you, 13 for me, and 13 for Burrita.”

As if on cue, a harsh voice called from the other room “Don’t you go eating my pizzas! I’m saving a few for New Years!”

Blobby rolled his eyes. “Did you find the New Years Butter Balls?”

“Yeah, they’re all loaded into the cannon.”

“I call shooting them!”

“As long as you actually aim for my mouth this time.”

“You boys can’t shoot cannons until we go over to the neighbors and finish off their Root Beer Pool!” Burrita screeched.

Blobby and Fat Jones smiled at each other.

“I just love New Years Eve,” they said together.

Youngest Daughter wrote:

They will launch two huge nuclear bombs into the sky, send them onto their enemies, and then ooh and aah as their enemies are destroyed. Then, they’ll AAAAAH! as the nuclear radiation takes effect.  Then, they’ll go underground until the 4th of July.

Son wrote:

“Captain Picard, we need you at engineering.  And bring Data!  It’s an emergency, sir.”  

Captain Picard tapped his communicator and replied, “Very well.  Data, come with me.”

In the elevator, Picard wondered what the problem could be.  “It’d better not be that metal-eating slime again,” he thought.  He stepped out of the elevator and approached the doors with trepidation. As they slid open, he heard a great clatter of pots and pans, and then the entire crew shouted, “Happy New Year, Captain!”

Common Household Mom wrote:

“Optimus!  Come down here!  It’s time to get ready for the New Year’s celebration.”

“Aw, Ma, do I have to?”

“Yes, you do, young man.  Put on your jet pack right now.”

“But Ma, I hate jetting south to Newfoundland for New Year’s.  It’s so hot and swampy there.”

“Now, Optimus, you know it is the tradition to jet to the swamps, find 3-legged frogs, and throw them in the air for New Year’s.  There is no better way to celebrate the arbitrary passage of time.”

“But why does it have to be frogs?  Why can’t we throw something interesting like nuclear grenades?”

“Optimus, stop arguing and eat your recycled food pellet or we’ll be late.”

“Ma, who cares about the year 2512 anyway?  We might as well do something really bizarre, like bang a steel rod on one of those ancient cooking vessels, drink copious amounts of stupor-inducing substances, and sing schmaltzy songs at the top of our lungs.  At least that would be something new for a New Year’s celebration.”