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We Sat Down With a Survivor of the 1918 Flu and Accidentally Killed Him

Our deepest, most sincere apologies to the family and friends of 1918 flu survivor Mortimer Pyle. We recently sat down with Mr. Pyle to discuss his childhood memories of one of the deadliest pandemics in world history. Unfortunately, our interview had rather unfortunate repercussions for the old timer.

The Hard Times: Thanks for meeting with us! I’m so thrilled to talk with you!
Pyle: Please stop shouting, I can hear just fine. And shouldn’t you be wearing a mask around me? I’m 108 years old.
That’s totally my bad. I left it in the car. Plus I’m growing this sick quarantine beard and the mask makes it all itchy. Anyway, how old were you when the 1918 flu began?
I was six years old. Also, can you back up a little?
Totally, dude. I’m just really a ‘people person,’ you know? Anyway, we’d love to hear what you remember about the 1918 pandemic. How did it affect daily life? Was DoorDash still operating?
Sorry, my throat seems to be troubling me, let me just finish this water. 
That’s your water? Oh, shit dude, I thought it was mine! Haha I kept taking sips from it, isn’t that funny? 
My entire family contracted the flu during the devastating second wave. I was bedridden for a week, my body racked with pain, and my mind seized by feverish apparitions.
Gnarly! Tell me more. Did people show up at the state capitol with guns because they weren’t allowed inside Denny’s? Also, is it just me or is it kind of a beta cuck move to wash your hands after you pee?
Please extinguish that cigarette! 
Haha this isn’t a cigarette, bro! You wanna hit this? [Sneezes loudly and messily]
Are you kidding me? I’m getting the hell out of here.

Well, you can probably guess what happened to Mr. Pyle after that. In his haste to storm off, Mr. Pyle ran into our next interview subject, wildlife expert “Scorpion” Steve Lomax. “Scorpion” Steve was having serious difficulty controlling the hordes of venomous insects he had brought with him to the office, and there was a terrible accident. A very, very terrible accident.

In our defense, Mr. Pyle should have disclosed to us that he was allergic to murder hornets. Oh well. R.I.P. Mortimer Pyle. Mad props to you for surviving two pandemics. When heaven gets Zoom, you’ll be our first call.

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