Paul McCusker is a writer and producer best known for his work on Adventures in Odyssey, a nationally syndicated radio drama, and for his work with Focus on the Family’s Radio Theatre. He has written over 50 books, 21 plays and 4 musicals. His best known works are the play “Catacombs”, the novels The Mill House and Epiphany, and his audio adaptations of C.S. Lewis’s works. He currently works as Senior Director of Content Creation for the Augustine Institute.
I woke up this morning and decided that I am a Mermaid. An African-American Mermaid. No, wait, I am actually an African-American Transgender Mermaid Who Is Lesbian. And left-handed. (My taste for Sushi makes me think I'm Japanese, too, but I'll figure that out later. I can always change my mind.)
Now, to accommodate this decision, I am going to expect the government to replace the roads with waterways so I will have easy access to the places I want to go. (The good news is that there'll be no arguments about bathrooms because I'll simply relieve myself in the water.) My employers will have to change my office to a pool or tank of some kind—they'll have to or be accused of discrimination. My family may be surprised, but I'm sure they'll come around. They'll have to, if they really love me. It doesn't matter what I do to their lives by my decision. No one should hold me back. Maybe the President will say how courageous and brave I am for finally being what I was truly meant to be.
I may throw a party and demand that the local pet store make me a seaweed cake (and they better do it or I'll sue). One day I hope to marry again—several times, perhaps, since Mermaids aren't really monogamous. Anyway, that's where I am. Later, I will be taking a chainsaw to my various bits—removing my legs and what-nots to facilitate my change. Don't worry. It's not self-mutilation because it's my choice and I say it isn't. Though, unfortunately, the operation to change my respiratory system—human lungs to gills and all that—will have to be funded by taxpayers under the Affordable Health Care Act. I'm sure you don't mind, because it's what I want.
I can't describe the freedom I feel right now. For such a long time I have been oppressed by a so-called "reality"—whatever the heck that is—that has told me I am not actually a Mermaid. I now see Reality for the lie that it is. I am a Mermaid! Rejoice. Affirm me. Celebrate me. Because the very word "Mermaid" starts with "Me"!