“Holy shit, where am I?”
“You are in cryo prison. You’ve been thawed for a parole hearing.”
“Oh. Okay. Can I have a jacket?”
“No. First, tell us why you think you should be paroled from cryo-prison.”
“I am very cold.”
“Good. And do you feel like you have been rehabilitated? If so, please describe.”
“Yes. When I came in, I was warm and rarely frozen in blocks of ice. Now I am cold and almost always frozen in blocks of ice. Things have changed a lot for me.”
“Excellent. Excellent. What have you learned during your time in cryo prison?”
“I’ve learned the miseries of being cold. Like real cold. And naked. Does the ice really need to be see-through? Couldn’t you freeze me in water that turns white or something? I don’t like the idea of people laughing at my butt for, I don’t know, one hundred years. There’s probably three generations of cryo prison guards who have laughed at my frozen butt.”
“Thank you.”
“Seriously. They probably say stuff like, Check out the frozen veal cutlets, boys!”
“That’s quite enough. Final question: How do you think life will be different for you on the outside?”
“I think life will be warmer. Less cold, mostly. Maybe not though. I’ve been in here a long time. Is there some sort of catastrophic weather happening now in the future?”
“No. It’s mostly the same, I gather.”
“Oh. Then yeah, totes warmer.”
“Thank you. The board will review your application. In the meantime, to save us on the overtime for thawing and unthawing you all the time, we’ll just ask that you strip naked and stand on the sideline of an NHL game for a while.”