I’d love to live in an 80s sitcom.
I’d have a sidekick with an annoying nickname who gets me into innocent mischief but actually proves to be a genuinely good person at heart.
I’d spawn a few catch phrases that would ultimately land my face on thousands of profitable t-shirts.
I’d go to a high school with one hallway and six lockers.
I’d have problems that could be solved in under thirty minutes each week, leading to a happy ending many times in the span of a year.
I’d skillfully navigate my way through the “Very Special Episode,” learning a valuable lesson in the end, forgetting it ever happened by the next episode, and find myself in another “Very Special Episode” when the ratings start to slump.
I’d sit in my living room on a couch that faces nothing.
I’d end up with a little brother or sister who magically aged six years in three months.
I’d play baseball with the neighbors on an AstroTurf lawn the size of a closet.
I’d be the valedictorian, the prom queen, lead singer of a rock band, choose between Harvard and Yale, deal with a bully for one episode, stand up to the bully and become their best friend by the next, save a friend from making a morally objectionable decision, make a morally objectionable decision, get caught, get grounded for the remainder of an episode, and hide a pet from my parents with comical results.
I’d use the kitchen staircase.
I’d triumph over the most humiliating experience in the sitcom universe…getting glasses.
I’d make a cameo in another sitcom, say my catch phrase, smile, soak in the studio audience applause, and go home.
Yes, I’d love to live in an 80s sitcom.