I was smoking a cigarette in the backyard after a long day at work, when a man in a parachute fell from the sky, right into the lilac bushes. I tossed the cigarette and ran up to him. “Are you okay?” I said. “I’m fine, just happy to get away from the enemy,” he said. “The enemy? What enemy?” I said. “The enemy otherwise known as the mundane,” he said. “That’s peculiar,” I said. “Be that as it may, the mundane has waged merciless war on me and millions of my fellow Americans for years,” he said. “Would you like some water or lemonade? You’ve been through a lot,” I said. “No, but do you happen to have a helicopter? I’d like to make another jump,” he said. “Another random jump to nowhere? What good will that do?” I said. “It will do a lot of good. So much good, that I will no longer feel absolute pain,” he said. “Surely there are other ways to deal with pain,” I said. “Do you have some whiskey and cola?” the man said. “I’ve got a bottle or two,” I said. “New plan,” he said, “we drink the whiskey and cola and play darts on that maple tree.” “Great idea!” I said, rushing for the drinks. I was beginning to understand his war against the mundane.