The Real Reason Why Unicorns Went Extinct

This Is Not A Unicorn illustration

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WORLDWIDE—Experts confirmed Monday that unicorns became extinct years ago because no one believed in them. If only they had believed in themselves more.

Throughout history, unicorns have been pigeonholed as mystical creatures and definitely not real. The same experts came to the scientific conclusion that they could have totally survived if only people believed in them. I mean, it’s like a horse, which is believable. And a horn, also believable. But, apparently, not both of these things existing as one creature at the same time.

Unfortunately, the last unicorn documented in existence was in 1982. Even then, people didn’t believe in them enough. No one held walking marathons, 5K runs, or protests to raise money and awareness for unicorns.

Today, many years since their extinction, unicorns are more popular than ever. There are unicorn movies, toys, video games, and everything unicorn-imaginable. If unicorns knew that people started to believe in them now that they’re gone, they’d be so pissed at us.

Beautiful Christmas Tree Slowly Dying Inside


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MADISON—A pine tree at the Westerfield family home reportedly brought the family joy, covered with sparkling lights and heirloom ornaments, as it stood transplanted in a tree stand with her trunk amputated at the roots. The family recorded a cute video of their cat, Ruffles, climbing the tree and clawing at the lights while more and more wrapped Christmas gifts appeared under the tree every day, camouflaging the pine’s constantly falling needles like tears in the rain.

A fresh wreath made from severed limbs from this same pine, dangling on the front door of the home, served as a sign of holiday cheer to by-passers and visitors. And, to the trees outside, as a warning of the savages living inside this house.

Every night, the Westerfields huddled together around the tree and sang Christmas carols as the pine clung to her dear life, sucking up the water from the tree stand like a hospital IV and watching her life flashing before her eyes, including the time when her father went missing from the forest last Christmas. Surrounded by so many smiles, the tree tried to look on the bright side. Maybe she wasn’t really feeling real, surging physical and psychological pain of being removed from home in the forest and having body parts cut off. Maybe this was just seasonal depression.

When the family baby wobbled by while learning to walk, grabbed a branch, and cried as he hurt his little hand on the needles, only then the tree felt a small glimmer of Christmas joy—a reminder that the Westerfields are slowly dying, too.

I Spilled My Coffee

I Spilled My Coffee

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A cup of coffee was wastefully splattered all over the sidewalk. I noticed it while walking to my train to go home and immediately felt bad for the person who must have dropped their hot coffee on the ground instead of getting to drop it in the lap of someone who actually deserved it, bigly.

To make up for that, I had to get a coffee to smash of my own. Studies show that if you see a splattered coffee cup and don’t suddenly feel the irresistible urge to go get a coffee to smash, too, you’re probably a psychopath.

So, naturally, I went to the nearest coffee shop, got a coffee, and came back to this same spot. I smashed my coffee on the sidewalk. I compared it to the original. But it wasn’t the same. My splatter was nowhere near as long. And to my terror, my coffee didn’t reach anyone’s lap, either. I had to try again.

I got another coffee, came back to my spot, lifted it high above my head, and grunted like a person who hates coffee as I smashed it into the ground. Better? No. It wasn’t. This splatter had no shape or form–just looked like a disappointing, giant caffeine obliteration. The only good part about it was that there was no one around me to see my failure of not spilling the coffee on a deserving party’s lap. There must have been a secret to this that I still haven’t mastered yet. So, I got another coffee and came back.

I raised this coffee to my eye-level, concentrated on the cup for a moment, yelled violently like person who loves coffee but hasn’t had their daily fix yet, pinky up, took a sip, and satisfyingly walked to my train where I sat down, accidentally bumped into the passenger next to me, and spilled my hot coffee on my lap.