• I become a paramedic.
• If I encounter patients who cannot be saved, just as they’re about to die, I’ll look them dead (haha) in the eyes and slap ‘em real hard.
• If ghosts are real, this will cause dozens of them to be personally upset with me. I mean, at the very least, they’ll want answers. I’ll be the most haunted person ever.
• This means I’ll have dozens of opportunities to record paranormal phenomenon.
• I’ll get my own show on the Travel Channel called GHOST SLAPPER, through which I’ll eventually get irrefutable scientific evidence that ghosts exist, making me the wealthiest and most respected paranormal researcher of all time.
• On my death bed, one of my interns will slap me real hard, to make sure I come back all pissed off and confused.
• I will be the first ghost to host a ghost hunting show (which is mega cool, come on, admit it).
• Eventually, the secret goes global, and everyone starts slapping their loved ones real hard as they die, because they believe it’s the best way for their spirit to remain here on Earth with them.
• After enough time, death slaps become commonplace. People have DNS (do not slap) instructions in their wills instead of or along with DNR (do not resuscitate) ones.
• HOWEVER, because everyone expects the death slaps, they no longer have the desired effect. Getting slapped is just a natural part of dying, now, but it accomplishes nothing.
• Like with all cultural junk, the origin eventually slips away, and the knowledge of WHY we slap the dying is esoteric at best.
• I, however, remember, and haunt hospitals for centuries, laughing because everybody’s gettin’ slapped.
• Thank you for your time.
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