Earworm

Kill yourself, it’s the only way.
Kill yourself, better do it today.
Kill yourself, don’t bother to pray.
Kill yourself, it’ll all be OK.

The relentless ditty flooded her mind. An earworm, along the lines of Punch Brothers or Let’s All Go to the Lobby. Only four lines. She knew them by heart, because she wrote them. But everyone knew them by heart. Once you knew the ditty, you couldn’t stop knowing it. 

Kill yourself, it’s the only way.
Kill yourself, better do it today.
Kill yourself, don’t bother to pray.
Kill yourself, it’ll all be OK.

That was the point, OK? Nutty mega-billionaire came up with the concept. Gave up on finding a new planet, turned his attention to saving this one, figured the death ditty would do it. Hired every major ad agency to create the perfect earworm, hers included. 

Kill yourself, it’s the only way.
Kill yourself, better do it today.
Kill yourself, don’t bother to pray.
Kill yourself, it’ll all be OK.

Crazy idea, and they said so to his face. You want to pay us? Fine. We'll take your money, but it'll never work. But the man insisted. They took his money and did the job. No guilt, right? It'll never work. Hey, most of the jingles didn't. They cranked out reams of morbid doggerel. Pure crap. None of it worked. Until they got to her copy late one night. Ditty #457 worked. Too goddamn well.

Kill yourself, it’s the only way.
Kill yourself, better do it today.
Kill yourself, don’t bother to pray.
Kill yourself, it’ll all be OK. 

The surplus humans were gone now. And then some. Billions of people took the ditty’s advice and checked out early. The suicide solution had the desired ecological effect. Cities in ruins, forests coming back, animal habitats rebounding. Their tree-hugging employer would've been pleased. But he'd checked out, too.

Kill yourself, it’s the only way.
Kill yourself, better do it today.
Kill yourself, don’t bother to pray.
Kill yourself, it’ll all be OK.

She tried to hang on. Wake up, get up. Then keep on keeping on, like some stupid sole survivor in a cheesy, post-apocalyptic movie. Just one more day. After that, just another day. Repeat as often as necessary. And she did, she really did. She kept it up. But she knew she couldn’t keep it up forever. 

Kill yourself, it’s the only way.
Kill yourself, better do it today.
Kill yourself, don’t bother to pray.
Kill yourself, it’ll all be OK.

In his heart of hearts, she believed in the power of advertising.

(C) 2019, Marty Fugate. All rights reserved.