"Why is there fire on the water, and will it listen to my podcast?"
"There's no time," the fireman shouted at me while desperately attempting to pour suppressant fluid on the fire that was on the water. "We have to put out this fire or this water will burn up."
It was the last water on the planet, and it had somehow caught on fire. Everything around us was dry. All the world's plant life had died. It would only be a matter of time until everything was dead, but that didn't matter, because I was trying to find out if people would listen to my podcast about my Meowth.
"My Meowth threw up today," I told the fireman. "My Meowth threw up blood."
"Would somebody get this person out of here?" said the fireman. It was his use of gender-neutral language that suddenly made me realize I had been referring to him as a fireman, and that made me feel very embarrassed. I had not asked the fireman if he used male-gendered terms to describe himself.
"Excuse me, sir? Or ma'am? Or person to whom I am talking? Would you prefer I referred to you as a male, or—"
"Get out of here or I'll have you arrested for interfering with a fire crime scene," said the fireperson who did not tell me if they defined themselves as male, and so now I will have to use gender-neutral language to describe them.
"Wait," said the fire. "What happened after your Meowth threw up—"
And then the fire went out. And so too did my only audience member die.
"Why did you do that," I asked the fireperson. "That was the only person who would listen to my podcast."
"And that's the last water on the planet. What's wrong with you?"
I was trying to think of a witty remark when I realized that something was horribly wrong with me, and this warranted further exploring as to figure out what. "I'll tell you," I said, as a maniacal laugh tore itself from my chest, "on the next episode of my podcast."