My Solution to World Peace, or How Werthers Echte Saves Lives

Once upon a time there was an ornery little girl. She had two ornery little brothers, two annoyed parents, and two amused grandparents. They were all in the process of completing an ordinary little road trip. This little girl was a very clever little girl – she knew better than to ask the banal “Are we there yet?” Instead, she inquired as to the length of the journey, and number of miles currently covered, the speed with which they were traveling, the amount of gas in the tank, and the hunger of everyone else in the car. About twice every hour. For hours. And hours. Upon being informed that there had been no significant change in status since the last time she had posed her queries, the ornery little girl began to feel put upon. No one, she felt, was taking her seriously. Least of all her ornery little brothers, who seemed more concerned with reaching the last verse of “This is the Song that Never Ends.” The air was tense, and an explosion seemed imminent. Fortunately, the not-quite-as-amused grandfather, with remarkable presticogitation, bethought himself of a simple solution. He asked all of the ornery children and annoyed parents to listen up, as he had something that would make everyone much more comfortable, and then he produced the Happy Pill. Taking this pill would, he told them, make them happy. He immediately popped one in his mouth and began to beam a glorious smile. The ornery little children were, as i said before, rather clever. They knew something was up, and gazed at their grandfather with suspicion shining in their eyes. However, the grandfather had already raised four children, and so informed the children that unfortunately, there weren’t very many pills, and perhaps they would be willing to sacrifice their share for the good of their poor parents, who were, after all, the ones doing all the work. The parents and the grandmother thanked the children for their generousity, and they, too, began to smile, and laugh, and sing, and generally have a very good time. That did it. The children clamoured for their fair share. After that, the ornery little girl and her two ornery little brothers were never ornery for very long. They knew that all they had to do was take a Happy Pill, and eventually everything would turn out all right. Waits seemed shorter. The offense of skipping or not skipping 67, 66, and 65 bottles of beer by going straight to 64 seemed completely unimportant. Stomaches were less empty, and bladders less full. Everyone agreed on what music to listen to, and that the orange punch-buggy was seen first by the littlest brother made no impact. And all were happy, because they believed they were.