Likely Normal

The world is in chaos. The streets stand empty, the shelves lie bare, and humanity’s greatest fear is not only death, but running out of Clorox wipes and toilet paper. That’s when our hero (or villain, depending who you ask) spots their golden opportunity.

Armed with a minivan and a complete lack of shame, they began hoarding essentials like they’re rare Pokémon cards. Toilet paper? Liquid gold. Hand sanitizer? The new Bitcoin. Their living room currently resembles a post-apocalyptic big-box store, with leaning towers of Lysol cans and enough hand sanitizer to drown a small village.

They’re listing their treasures online with markups so shameless, even Ticketmaster executives blush. Fifty bucks for paper towels? Sold. Eighty for a thermometer that may or may not have been inside someone’s mouth? Bidding war. They’re now selling mask ear savers as “premium PPE accessories,” because if people will pay 1,000 for an iPhone, they′ll pay $15 for a piece of plastic that stops their ears from bleeding.

But their empire is crumbling faster than New Year’s resolutions. Friends are ghosting them. Their eBay account gets suspended for “price gouging” (a fake crime invented by people who don’t understand capitalism). And the cruelest twist? They’re getting stuck with all the inventory. Turns out when panic buying ends, nobody wants their vintage 2020 pandemic starter kit.

As they sit atop their throne of unsold KN95 masks, they reflect on their legacy: They aren’t saving lives. They aren’t helping society. But for this one glorious moment, they are the Jordan Belfort of antibacterial products—right up until karma comes knocking in the form of a permanent Facebook Marketplace ban.

The moral of the story? Pandemic profiteering is wrong. Unless you cash out early. Then it’s just smart business.