BETTY WHITE WAS DRESSED IN LEATHER and ready to kick someone’s ass. She figured when she got to a certain age, a few simple things could be expected from life. One of the simplest things she expected was to always have toilet paper when she needed it.

But this damn virus . . .

She didn’t know where to start, but she knew that she had to do something. When you got to a certain age, nothing was guaranteed. So she strapped the bazooka on her back, loaded her sidearm, sharpened her knives, and hit the road. In one of her arms was Rose, the potted plant that had been her companion for more years than she could remember. Like, a really, really, ridiculously long time.

She could have called for a driver, or maybe taken a bus, but the world seemed to have gone into hiding. Besides, you didn’t get to a certain age by having other people do everything for you.

So, clad in fuzzy pink slippers, she started hoofin’ it up the street.

“We’ve gotta find those bears,” she said aloud, maybe to Rose, maybe to herself. By that she meant the midnight marauders who called themselves the Charmin Bears, those same thieving bastards who had been breaking into houses to steal the remaining toilet paper.

Betty White walked a mile, then she walked a mile more, and still she saw no signs of life. It felt like one of her class reunions.

She sat down on a curb to rest.

Betty nodded off for a few minutes, because that sometimes happened too when you got to a certain age. When she opened her eyes again, someone was blocking the sun.

With lightning quick reflexes, she whipped the bazooka around in front of her and took aim. The shadow in the sun took shape. “Whoa, whoa, hold up there,” came a smooth British accent, and her eyes focused on the good-looking black man holding up his hands.

“Idris Elba???” she said.

“Absolutely, yes. Please, please, put the bazooka down . . . “

She did, and said, “Goddamn you are one good-looking man. I would have been glad to see you anyway, but especially now. There’s been no one around for miles.”

Idris nodded and squinted at her. “No, ma’am. It’s the end of the world, the damn Toilet Paper Apocalypse.”

“Oh, I know, Idris. Somehow it’s related to this virus.”

Idris looked very sad. “Indeed,” he said, “I know, because I’ve got the virus.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Well, Tom Hanks has the virus, too. He was supposed to be here, but he couldn’t get out of Australia. Not to mention, you’ve gotta have a much bigger budget to get Tom Hanks.”

Betty explained about her neighbor, the old guy who looked like Christopher Lee, how he told her about the Charmin Bears. “I think they might be the key,” she said, “And maybe they’ve got a cure for you.”

“If you’re asking, then I’m coming with you,” Idris said.

“Hell yeah, I’m asking. But you might want to bring a weapon.”

“I don’t need a weapon,” Idris said, “I’m Black Superman.”

Betty White heaved the bazooka onto her back, nestled Rose in her arms, and dropped the shades back on her eyes. She looked super-duper cool. She put her hand on Idris’ arm, which also felt pretty super.

“Then let’s find us some fuckin’ bears,” she said . . .

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