Many people believe that humans can only live for 115 years tops but, as it turns out, the cure for mortality may date back as far as the 1500s. Of course, this was only recently discovered and the cure is being hoarded by an old white misogynist, but it’s stupefying nonetheless.
It was Monday night when Maddy Thomas unsurprisingly surrendered to her usual nightly procrastination regimen, which consists of mindlessly scrolling between Tinder and TikTok for hours until her body finally decides it needs some sleep. Though it seemed like any other night, two months in social isolation got the best of her and that growing — and now desperate — need for attention brought her to a breaking point, leading her to do the unthinkable: Guerilla swiping right on every profile with no regard for actual content.
Needless to say, Thomas matched with far too many fish-holding, deer-hunting, cat-fishing individuals that night… But that was the least of her worries. After all, she had swiped right on one of those profiles with a singular photograph of a black screen and a suspiciously vacant biography. There was nothing to clue her into the match’s personality, appearance or, quite frankly, humanhood. All she had to go off of was the now-ominous name “Henry,” written in white text that seemed to protrude off the tenebrous screen.
But almost immediately after matching, Henry sent poor, feeble Thomas a message that read: “chances that you could give me a male heir? Aha :P”
Maybe it was the constant and overabundant consumption of TikTok garbage finally taking effect on her brain, but Thomas decided to respond, putting aside the many red flags raised by his profile, devoid of literally any content, and his haunting and bizarre message.
“Sorry, what???” Thomas responded lamely, revealing a sense of innocence. Henry took no time to capitalize upon the weakness, and he instantly shot back, “OMG sorry queen! I haven’t even taken you to dinner yet. Thou art so beautiful.”
Even if the message wasn’t sent in fancy calligraphic font, Henry forgot to translate his last sentence from old English to new, and this was what finally tipped Thomas off. Memories of sixth grade history class soon flooded her brain, and she knew she was in correspondence with the eighth King of England.
“King Henry VIII?! What on Earth are you doing on Tinder?!” Thomas wrote. She also smugly added: “Please don’t call me ‘queen.’ I know you’re calling at least six other girls that.”
Thomas theorized that the accusatory tone that saturated her last messages to Henry caused him to unmatch with her, destroying all evidence of the exchange and of his possible existence.
But Thomas’ story has many Tinder users hot on his trail. People all over the Madison area are determined to uncover his profile once again, hoping to rewrite history by introducing him to modern science (King Henry VIII, if you’re reading this, it’s the sperm, not the egg, that determines the sex of a child), personal hygiene practices (because Lord knows that man needs a toothbrush) and socialism (duh).
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