What happens when you pay about a thousand dollars for a three hour class featuring a compulsory attendance policy that reiterates information almost entirely word for word from the textbook? Four games of MASH. If you are unaware of what MASH is, please check out this rudimentary skeleton of a game from the Middle School Survival Guide. Anyway, on with alternate life scenarios...
MASH result one: Meghan is going to end up married to a ridiculously awkward man from our program that shall remain nameless. They are going to live in a mansion with their demon spawn and hairy pet spider. She is going to continue her Harry Potter addiction in her free time, when she isn't busy with her full-time job of being a bum. Apparently, being a bum pays off well for a select few, because her salary is $100,000 per year!
MASH result two: Jake Gyllenhaal and I will be amorous in our Appalachian mansion with our crack baby and goldfish named Rascal. Why Jake Gyllenhaal decided to make a simple septic-tank pumper with a salary of $50,000 a year with a heavy addiction to booze is beyond me.
MASH result three: Meghan will grow up to fall madly in love with her mom. They move to Hogsmeade and live in a lovely little house. Hopefully, as the only all-magical community in all of England, Hogsmeade is liberal and tolerant of such controversial issues as homosexuality and blatant incest. Instead of adopting, Meghan and her mom purchase robots to act as offspring. Meghan earns the dough (all $69,000 a year) with her freelance dumpster diver career. As one would expect of a Hogsmeade resident, Meghan is endowed with certain magical powers. Her invisibility ability is all the rage at neighborhood block parties. Perhaps it is this talent that led to her affair with Mr. Rogers back in the day.
MASH result four: Peter Pettigrew, my lover, gave me genital warts. Fortunately, we live in a mansion so I can escape his presence in one of our many other rooms. Despite making $7,000,000 a year, I maintain a steady job as a chimney sweep. It's a relaxing way to spend my day, which is much more than I can say for the nights. The octuplets Peter impregnated me with during our honeymoon in Venice are a nightmare and a half. Sometimes, even the thrill of cleaning out a long-forgotten flu is not enough, and I must escape the only way I know how--by turning into a hawk. Thanks to my many years of dedicated magic education, I finally became an animagus to fly far far away from my traitorous husband.