Murdering One Direction: Reversing the Cursing

Chapter 1: The Call to Action

"Sir, we have not yet left the runway," the pilot's voice rang over the speaker.

Oh yeah. Usually, saying something stupid was reserved for Louis. Guess I just wanted to add a little drama to the moment.

Anyway, the call I received was from Simon Cowell (he had tried to make the call anonymously, talking super deeply to disguise his voice, but I had seen through the guise way too easily). He was in absolute hysterics. Here's the gist of what he told me:

Between the time that I had cheerfully said my last goodbyes to Louis (literally five minutes ago) and now, Louis had managed to write, record, and release his first solo album titled Louis' Lodge. As you can imagine, the people were eager for the first solo album from the last remaining member of One Direction.

However, once the album actually dropped (available exclusively on Pandora), the reviews were so bad that a 28th Amendment was unanimously added to The Constitution, banning Louis' Lodge from the public. Afterward, a lengthy public trial was held, and Louis was found guilty on charges of domestic terrorism. And tax evasion, even though he literally made no taxable income that fiscal year. Now he's been left to rot away in prison. There's a whole six-part documentary series about it on Hulu.

Simon begged me to break him out and promised that he would pay me a handsome sum of money if I was successful. Considering that I was now broke because of Louis' failed career, I accepted. Why Simon was so concerned about Louis is beyond me, but I'm not one to ask questions.

So, I got to work and called the one person who held more power than even me.

"Hello, this is Barack Obama, Diamond Member of doTERRA Essential Oils. Are you interested in sampling our signature scent, Barack's Black Berries? It's a steal at only $100 per fluid ounce."

"Um, is this President Obama?"

"President of doTERRA?! Psh, like I could ever hold that much power. Oh, if you mean former President of the United States, then yes. Anyway, are you interested in Barack's Black Berries? Its juices are extracted directly from my-"

I cut him off before the secret of his Black Berries could be revealed. "Former President? The last time I spoke to you, you were acting President!" I said, ignoring the fact that he was trapped in an obvious pyramid scheme.

"Yeah, well that's what happens when you wait seven years to write a sequel, you silly goose. Now you can't rely on my omnipotent power as acting President to solve all of your problems. Git gud, noob. But I can offer you 20% off your purchase of $500 or more..."

Well, there goes the easy route of just pardoning Louis again. I guess we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way.

"Look, I'm running a heist to break Louis out. You in?" When an opportunity for a heist presents itself, you have to take it. Otherwise, this story would be really boring. Luckily, Obama didn't have anything important going on.

"Oh, I'm in. But only if we make enough money to cover my debts to doTERRA. It may not seem like it, but I'm in financial ruin. I really don't know how much longer I can go on. My family is starving-"

"Perfect, you know where to meet me."

...

Ah yes, The Most Fricken Sweet Coffee Shop Around - both an apt description of this fine establishment as well as its name -. Wooden tables splintered from age were accompanied by mismatching chairs all tarnished from years of soaking up hipsters' butt sweat. The table cloths as thin as one-ply toilet paper were stained so badly that every table seemingly had its own unique color. Aromas of stale coffee beans and asbestos greeted me as I sauntered through the doorway.

Now that I think about it, this place is definitely a health hazard and I should probably stop using it as my default meet-up spot.

Sitting by himself in the corner of the room was Obama, sipping pleasantly on a macchiato that was probably worth more than he was-that is to say, somewhere in the ballpark of twelve dollars.

As I took a seat, he looked up at me and whispered, "Where's everyone else? This is a heist, right? You're supposed to have a montage where you go to a bunch of old acquaintances and get the squad back together! Don't tell me it's just us!"

I sheepishly avoided his gaze. "To be honest, there's not a lot of 'the gang' left. Louis is doing time and the only other relevant person from the OG story is Ryan Reynolds. But since he finally achieved his life-long goal of being more famous than Ryan Gosling, he said he wouldn't help a bunch of lowlifes like us." Man, I liked him a lot better when I thought he was dead.

As the last sentence escaped my handsome lips an equally handsome man named Ryan Reynolds walked into the shop. I would give a more specific description of him, but his beauty was so intense that if I were to attempt to encapsulate it in words, this story would turn a little too homoerotic. Some homoeroticism is acceptable, as you will come to find out, but not this much.

Somehow his beauty had multiplied threescore since last I saw him. He grabbed a seat next to Obama.

"Hey, guys," he said dejectedly. "Ryan Gosling just took over Harry Styles' role in the Fifty Shades of Gay sequel and now he's way more popular than I can ever hope to be. Since my dreams are over before they started, I guess I'm here to help."

Hmm, that story sounds oddly familiar...

As he spoke, I was so deeply lost in his earth-toned eyes-as rich and dark as the steaming cup of coffee that somehow appeared in my hand-that I didn't hear a word that escaped from his angelic lips.

Instead of offering my condolences at the desolation of his dreams, I said, "Hey Ryan, why are you so much more beautiful than the last time I saw you? You look pretty much the same, but for some reason, this insatiable lust that only Ryan Reynolds can quench is brewing inside me. Like the rising of the sun, it is all-reaching. Its warmth radiates on my skin like a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs. Simile creds to Owl City."

"Well, in the last 7 years/10 minutes, I gained this weird superpower where every man in the world has an inexplicably, yet widely accepted, massive crush on me. Straight and gay men alike."

Every word he spoke swathed me in a warm embrace. Each syllable left me yearning for him more... Bro what the buns is going on? Is this what other people feel when they're in my presence? No wonder I've been able to do pretty much anything I've ever wanted with no consequence.

This power was no joke because Obama was eyeing him even harder than I was. Bits of saliva dripped from his chin as he... You know what, if I described what Obama just did, I'd have to give this sequel an R rating.

Needless to say, we were immediately removed from the establishment. So we resumed our conversation at The Most Fricken Sweet Coffee Shop in Town.

This coffee shop had really upped its game since the last time we were here. The entire establishment was encased in marble and polished in gold. White pillars and Greek statues stood as sentries in the main lobby. From there, we were escorted by a beautiful maiden to our own private quarters. A waterfall with lavender aroma rained from the ceiling into a central pool surrounded by thrones of lush velvet, beaded with sparkling pearls. We took our seats, and the maiden presented our humble coffees on a pillow like a ring-bearer.

The healing atmosphere cured my mesothelioma contracted from long-term exposure to asbestos. Unfortunately, it also cured Obama's severe erectile dysfunction, which I had the displeasure of experiencing firsthand at the previous establishment. The prices here were also unbeatable.

"And that's when I finally got my first and only hug from my father..." Obama's eyes glistened. Ryan Reynolds swiped a tear.

I, on the other hand, was not so easily moved to tears. "Bro, literally, who asked? Anyway, the heist should be simple now that we've got Ryan Reynolds. I have a plan."