I LIVED IT: I Tried on a Mood Ring and It Screamed and Screamed and Screamed

I Lived it:

I’ve been embracing my spirituality in new ways these past few weeks: I tried palm reading, got into tarot, contacted the malicious spirit of my late Uncle Dan, and most recently, bought a mood ring. I couldn’t wait to put the ring on and finally know how I feel. Would I be happy? Sad? Melancholy? Surprised? Those were the four main options. But when the mood ring finally came in the mail and I put it on, it didn’t turn any specific color. To my surprise, it just screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed. 


Yikes! Is that bad?


I tried to get my screeching mood ring to shut up the only ways I knew how – bonking it with my hand and hitting it against a wall – but it wouldn’t stop until I finally took it off. Then it was just breathing really hard, kind of catching its breath in a really unsettling way. 


What the fuck? Should I send it back? Should I get it a therapist? Is it a sentient being?


I took to the internet to find out if a mood ring screaming at the top of its lungs the second it hits your finger means anything negative. There were no results when I searched this sentence on Google, which made me think something unprecedented was happening. WebMD said I have cancer, but that’s beside the point. 


I tried to check the instructions for clues, but the instruction booklet was just one sentence (“Put it on your finger”) and it said nothing about what to do if your mood ring is also a banshee. I figured maybe it was a “first time jitters” thing and that it would be done screaming now. 


I was sorely mistaken. 


I put the ring back on and it somehow screamed even louder and with more gumption than before. It also started forming full sentences like, “Oh, God, why! Stop this cursed existence, please!” and “Pain! There is so much pain!” By the time it started begging me to end its life, I had an inkling that something was really wrong. 



I decided there was only one course of action left: put the ring back in its box and bury it in the woods for some kid to find decades from now. As I took it off my finger and lowered it back into the package, the ring whispered, “Thank you, sweet child. Thank you,” which felt kind of rude, all things considered. Then, I bought a new ring, and it turned yellow (meaning “happy”). 


What the hell! This one’s defective, too!