As I wake up to golden sun rays piercing the blinds and my phone blasting “Beamer Boy” by School Shooter, I know it’s going to be a good day. “What a beautiful day in Wichita, Kansas,” the man on the radio says. I hop out of bed and stretch my arms as if I was stuffed in a trunk for six hours. I put my knife in my pocket and walk across the creaking floorboards to the stairs. My dog follows me down the steps.

When I get to the kitchen, I notice something is a little…off. Something doesn’t smell right. I check the fridge to see if something is rotten. No. I check the living room to see if the dog shit on the floor. No. It starts to smell more and more like something burning, so I quickly check the microwave. Nothing. At that moment, I look out the window to see the next door synagogue on fire. I need to do something fast, I thought. Right as I burst out my front door to check out the scene, I hear gunshots. A bullet whizzes right by my head into the door frame.

It was fucking ISIS.

ISIS was attacking my next door synagogue, which happens to be the temple for half of Israel’s cabinet as well as Adam Sandler. To this day, I have no idea why Israel’s highest ranking officials would go to temple in a random rural American town. I grab my Glock 20, chambered in 10mm, and get into the action.

I run across my yard 30 meters to the synagogue’s front doors. Rabbi Shlomo Givememoneyberg greets me kindly amidst the chaos. He even stops face-fucking the toddler in front of him to shake my hand. They’re such kind people. As he’s coughing from the smoke, he tells me that ISIS has come to kidnap Adam Sandler. “Those sand niggers!” I yell. The rabbi didn’t hear me, so I yelled it again. “Those sand niggers!” He still couldn’t hear me, so I once more yelled, “Those sand niggers!” He heard me that time and agreed. He told me they want to use Adam Sandler to add a little bit of comedic flare to their execution videos. “As if they weren’t funny enough!” I joke to the rabbi. He wasn’t very pleased. But that frown was wiped right off his face when a 7.62 x 39 mm bullet went straight through it. His brains were everywhere. He bled all over me.

“Fuck!” I exclaim. “These ISIS niggers are closing in on the synagogue fast.” I run through the hall, passing Reuven Rivlin, Gilbert Gottfried, and Blaire White on the way. I make it to the back room, where all the Jews are huddling around Adam Sandler, forming some sort of protective kosher Jew-shield. They’re all pissing and shidding themselves and they won’t stop. Adam Sandler keeps cracking jokes from the middle of the huddle, so they’re all laughing while continuously defecating themselves now, too. It’s fucking gross: they just won’t stop shidding and laughing while crying in fear.

ISIS must’ve heard the commotion. They crash their CIA-supplied 2019 Toyota pickup through the wall. As the gunner begins to open fire into the huddle of Jews, Adam Sandler quickly fires off a joke that causes the ISIS guys to laugh and get distracted long enough for me to pull out my gat and pop them in the ass…twice. “Have fun with your virgins, faggots,” one of the surviving rabbis says while fucking a child. All the other Jews died. Six million of them. Miraculously, Adam Sandler was unscathed. All of the bullets were stopped in the Jews’ bodies because of their thick IQs.

Adam and I go over to the recreation room and flip on the TV. Louder with Crowder is playing. We flip it over to the news. The news is playing a video of ISIS pledging to stop at nothing to kidnap Adam Sandler. I was sucked into this whole mess that I didn’t want to be a part of. I have a Turning Point USA meeting at noon I’m going to miss, but I can’t give ISIS what they want. I have a choice to make. I won’t let ISIS win. Either I get myself and Adam to safety in Israel, or I’m going to have to kill Adam Sandler.

I tell Adam we’re going to Israel. He doesn’t react and continues chewing on his shoelace. I go over to the synagogue’s phone directory and dial up Benjamin Netanyahu. “Bibi!” I say, “it’s your friend, uhh…Benjamin Steinberg from the synagogue!”

“Wait…” Bibi responds, “which Benjamin Steinberg?”

I pause for a moment as a bead of sweat runs down my forehead. “The Jewish one?” Bibi then accepts me graciously and asks what he can do for his fellow chosen person. I tell him about ISIS. He seems confused for a second, questioning why I would call him about something bad ISIS is doing. Then he quickly hangs up the phone. I was extremely confused. Charlie Kirk told me Jews and Muslims don’t get along. Suddenly, it clicked. Israel must have been the one propping up ISIS this whole time. I really wish our leaders knew this.

So what has my life come to? I now have to get Adam Sandler to Israel and kill Prime Minister of Israel Benjamin Netanyahu in a self-defense situation. All I wanted was to meet Charlie Kirk. Great.

Adam and I hop onto the next flight to Tel Aviv. The time conveniently passes very quickly and we arrive in Israel. We get off the flight and see IDF troops radioing each other. “They know we’re here. They’re looking for us,” says Adam.

“Shut up, kike,” says me.

We cautiously sneak around the airport to our cab. As we hop in, the IDF troops start chasing after us. We get into a high-speed chase. I direct the cab driver to head directly to wherever the hell Netanyahu lives. The Storm Jewpers are gaining behind us. We turn down a long alley. The Israelis are right on our tail. In the moment, I remember that the IDF got brand-new technologies that are all optimized to somehow make them money however they can. Some Moloch magic. This tech was put in their new cars too, I recall. I decisively take a roll of quarters out of my pocket. I crawl over Adam and roll down the window. I stick the roll of quarters out the window and move it left, then right. The IDF car follows whichever way I move the quarters. I move them left and their car swerves a little left. I move the quarters right, the car swerves right. I tell Adam to quickly think of a good one-liner. “A-are y-you guys Indian? B-because you’re about to eat massive shit,” says Adam as I chuck the quarters into the alley wall. The IDF car instantly follows the quarters straight into the wall, creating a fireball bigger and hotter than Laura Loomer’s nose.

Adam Sandler came in his pants.

I hop back into my seat and look up to see that we’re almost at the prime minister’s house. Outside, I see my good friend Andrew Anglin taking pennies from his pocket and throwing them into the street, making the local Jew kids chase them into traffic. But I had no time to talk; I was on a mission to kill Benjamin Netanyahu (in a self-defense situation). We bust through the gate and plow right through the building into Bibi’s office. He’s meeting with ISIS, John McCain’s corpse, and Tupac.

We were surrounded. We were outmanned. Outgunned. I didn’t know what to do until I was hit with a brilliant idea. I yelled, “Adam! Tell your funniest joke!” I ducked for cover. Adam made a fart noise with his mouth and Bibi and ISIS suddenly exploded. They instantaneously shit themselves so hard their bodies blew up. Adam Sandler just killed Bibi Netanyahu and like 30 ISIS guys.

Adam and I hop back on an airplane and get the hell out of there. We get back to the States and all seems well. I invite Adam to my home. “T-thank you so much for the dinner, DJ. I really appreciate you saving me a-and defeating the Islamic State and all,” Adam Sandler said.

“No problem, buddy. Except there is one thing we still need to take care of.”

“W-what’s that?” Adam asked.

“Well…you see, I learned that Israel is the one in charge of ISIS. They’re not going away, probably ever. So they’re going to keep coming for you. They won’t stop until they get you. And when they get you, it’s going to be hell on Earth. They’re going to torture you and force you to make fart jokes while they behead journalists. Now, beheading journalists I can take. In fact, I (DO NOT) encourage it. But I can’t bear to see you, my friend, put through that pain.”

“W-well, thank you, DJ. I really appreciate a good friend like you. Do you really think I’ll be able to stay on the run and avoid ISIS forever?” asked Adam.

“No. You’re a functional retard.”

“W-well,” Adam stuttered, “what am I gonna do?”

“Kill yourself,” I said sternly.

“W-what? Why?” asked Adam.

“It’s the only way we can assure ISIS won’t get you. It’s one thing if you get tortured, but it’s another if you become their greatest weapon. Countless people could be harmed or killed because of that. You don’t want to let ISIS win, do you?”

“N-no,” said Adam.

I slap my thighs as I stand up from the kitchen table. “Great! Well, here’s my gun. It’s a Glock 20, chambered in 10 mm. Take it.”

“J-just take it?” asked Adam.

“Yep. Just shove it in your mouth.” Adam stuck the gun in his mouth. “That’s it. Now slowly squeeze the trigger.” In that moment, I thought about my crazy day. I thought about how fucked our world is. I thought about how that one rabbi is probably still fucking that kid, or maybe a different kid. I thought about Stalin. I thought about him a lot, actually. I sighed, counted my blessings, and thanked God for another beautiful day as the golden sun glistening off the window sank lower and lower until it had completely set, bringing about a peaceful calm.

The gun went off.

Adam Sandler had just killed himself in my kitchen.

Honestly, it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen him do.