As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
The diver seems confused, so I continue to describe our current election: 9/11 ANNIVERSARY, COUGHING, ABANDONED SHOE
Uncertain, he holds his spear-cane before him. I press on with more hand signals: RACISM WALL, TIMID NEAR MEXICAN PRESIDENT, LOUD WHEN HE'S GONE
I brush aside an eel, continuing my hand signals: DESTROYED BY MODERATELY SCATHING COMEDY SEGMENT
The diver relaxes and thoughtfully taps the glass in front of his chin. Encouraged by this, I elaborate with the universal signs for: VIRTUAL REALITY DOOFUS, WHITE SUPREMACISTS, MEME MAGIC
He urges me to continue, and I oblige: EMAIL SERVER, BENGHAZI, COVER UP BY SOMETHING AWFUL CIA CABAL
My hands begin to tire. Dragging the heel of my foot along the ocean floor, I write: GHOSTBUSTERS REMAKE, MILO, ALT-RIGHT
As I scrawl the final letter, my boot clanks against something buried just below the silt. It's a treasure chest full of doubloons! Excitedly, I lay the gold pieces in a pattern to spell out: INCITE VIOLENCE AT RALLIES, OPENLY SUGGEST ASSASSINATION OF OPPOSING CANDIDATE, OFFER ALL JOB RESPONSIBILITIES TO POTENTIAL VICE PRESIDENT
He scoops the gold coins up into a bucket. I resume my universal hand gestures: EMAIL HACKS, STILL DICKIN' BIMBOS, UNCOMFORTABLY LONG IMPRESSION BY JOHNNY DEPP
The diver tugs on a rope connected to a bell somewhere on the ship above. As the bucket is pulled up, he nods at me to continue so I do: BLACK LIVES MATTER, BLAME BLACK PRESIDENT, BIRTH CERTIFICATE
We begin to grapple with a monstrous octopus-like creature, its gnarled beak snapping at my hands as I do the signs for: TACO BOWL, AGITATED PHOTOSHOOT EAGLE, DISHEVELED DOCTOR
Just as we are about to lose consciousness in the grips of the octopus' tentacles, a great whale ridden by Poseidon comes along and consumes the foul monster in a single chomp. The diver holds me in his arms, and as blood dribbles from my twitching mouth I signal: PLAGIARIZE FIRST LADY SPEECH, SCOTT BAIO, MOCK PRISONER OF WAR AND DEAD SOLDIER'S PARENTS
Up above, the ship's crew set to work, cranking a wheel to reel in the tubing connected to the diver's suit. As he is jerked upwards I slip from his hands and continue: DEMOCRAT STRATEGY - GO WITH MOST DIVISIVE CANDIDATE, SAY ZINGERS LIKE "DANGEROUS DONALD" AND "TRUMPED-UP TRICKLE-DOWN"
The deep sea diver's iron-gloved hand futilely reaches out to me as he is pulled into the inky blackness that borders my immediate surroundings. I frantically do the signs for: KILL ENEMIES' FAMILIES, SUSPEND DUE PROCESS, BLOW UP IRANIAN SHIP IF THEY TAUNT US
A soft light from the giant clamshell grows brighter. The portal to my own time is opening. I pause to consider, then make one final hand signal to the diver who is now little more than a faint shadow, knowing there's little chance he'll see it: THINK I'LL STAY DOWN HERE
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