A Guy That Likes Orangutans Writes a Book for You!

By Sean DAmico Chapter 1: My face was bleeding profusely and I had no idea where I was. I glanced around and saw nothing that could give me a clue about my location; meanwhile, my face continued bleeding. In the distance, thousands of dogs were howling. Suddenly, a thought: what if I was a dog? Sure enough, my hands were paws, and I had eight nipples. Nice, I thought to myself. The fact that my face was bleeding and my ignorance of my location now suddenly made sense. The dogs were still howling in the distance, but much closer this time. They would shortly be upon me and I would need to leave quickly. I stopped being a dog and opened the exit door. Bright light blinded me for a second, and a gruff voice called out from behind me, Yo, dude, shut the door. I slammed the door shut with fervor, but I could still hear the sarcastic Thanks, motherfucker that was uttered from back in the room. Enraged, I left the door open just a crack, and then sprinted off in the direction of the sun, away from the endless howling. The sprinting was going smoothly until my left quadriceps exploded, causing my face to bleed once more. Luckily, there was a junkyard nearby with all the parts I needed to construct some robo-quads. Though it only took a little over twenty minutes to assemble the machine thigh, the howling seemed infinitely closer, and it appeared that more dogs had joined the call. Horizontal motion was no longer cutting it, I realized. I needed to dig and dig DEEP. Using my hands, I began to dig into the soft loam beneath my feet, shoveling handful after

handful behind me. The howling grew ever closer, and I broke out into a sweat. I forced myself to dig faster, my pace now frantic. A quick look behind me and my stomach dropped: just cresting over the horizon was the enormous pack of dogs that had been pursuing me since that fateful day at the Carnival. The howling pierced my skull, and was nearly unbearable, but I forced myself to continue. FUCK, I exclaimed, DONT DOGS LOVE FUCKING DIGGING? WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING, YOU CANT OUTDIG A MOTHERFUCKING DOG. Mildly frustrated with myself, and with the mega-pack approaching, I brainstormed like no other. The answer became immediately clear: feed all of the dogs chocolate and poinsettias. Reaching into my pack, I pulled out my emergency Chocolate and Poinsettias kit and began preparations. Because the preparations largely involved me just opening the kit and spreading the contents about, they were over in a flash. I smiled smugly, and with my arms akimbo, watched as the howling horde ran right into my highly improbable trap. Chapter 2: Forty-seven days later, every dog on the planet had been eradicated by my hand in an event that future history books would refer to as A Pretty Bad Idea. Canine corpses were in piles thousands of miles high, and eventually, to deal with the problem, the UN launched them all toward the moon in a spaceship. But back to the present: now that the immediate problem was taken care of, there were still bigger issues to deal with. First and foremost, I would have to safely navigate the post-apocalyptic wasteland that is now Canada and reach Dresden, Ontario. There, I would need to consult the oracle, Sweet Mama Jean, and ask her where the plot will go next.

Before departing the site, I skinned twelve dogs and fashioned an outfit out of their pelts. I figured that none of the marauding Canadian bandits would mess with a dude wearing dog skins, and boy, was I right. In fact, some of them were so frightened that they laughed at me, in terror, probably. I quickly earned a reputation among the bandits as a badass, and they bestowed upon me the title Douche What Done Killed All the Dogs, or Dwdkald, for short. Twas one bright afternoon in March, somewhere in the desert wasteland of Newfoundland, that I was approached by a strapping young lad. He was wearing a jumpsuit made entirely of denim, suggesting he came from one of the wealthier families in the area. He made to ask me a question, but I put my finger to his lips and shushed him. I gestured to two tree stumps that were nearby, and we sat. I motioned for him to begin. Oh, Great Idiot Dwdkald, I come to you with a quest. For many aeons, my family has lived in this area, working at our denim mill, churning out denim for the outlying kingdoms. Alas, one night four moons ago, a terrible beast razed our mill and took off with my parents! Sir Dwdkald, I beg of thee, please slay this terrible monster and rescue mine parents! At this point, the boy broke into tears, and I permitted him to weep for a week. After the week had passed, I clasped the boys hand in my own, looked him deep in his poop-colored eyes, and whispered, Nah. Little did he know, while he was busy sobbing for a week, I, too, was busy with my own machinations; namely, finding the Elder Wand. Shoving the boy to the ground, I drew the wand and watched him begin to transform into none other than Satan himself. With my hand steady, and the wand pointed at his heart, I muttered, Avada Kedavra, Bitch.

The Dark Lord was struck with the green light and instantly vanquished. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I knelt by Satans corpse and closed his eyelids. Goodnight, sweet prince of evil. I stood up, dusted myself off, and decided to entrust the wand to my old drinking buddy, Emeric the Evil, who happened to live just a few feet away, in a denim mill. With the weapon of great destruction in safe hands, I resumed my sprint toward Dresden, knowing my destiny awaited me there. Chapter 3: Oh shit, its Merlin. My heart skipped a beat as I gazed upon the greatest wizard of all time, and my personal hero. He was dressed in a pretty cute Hollister top and some gnarly tiger-striped skinny jeans; his beard was braided and numerous shrunken heads hung from his necklace. I tried comprehending the vast complexity of his kicks, but my ears started bleeding and I needed to avert my eyes. My arms became heavy; knees: weak; palms: sweaty. He was hovering on a floating carpet approximately thirty yards ahead of me, whittling a flute from an oak branch. Why he was in this part of the Canadian Waste was unknown to me, but I was determined to get his autograph, maybe even sniff his hair. My quest could wait an hour or so, this was important to me. As I approached him, there was a faint buzzing in the air, like bees fornicating, and it grew louder with each step I took. Without looking up, Merlin snapped his fingers and the buzzing stopped. The carpet descended and he stepped off in my direction. He removed his comically conical hat and brandished his hand.

I am Merlin, it is a pleasure to meet you. I gripped his hand and shook vigorously, Its an honor to meet you, sir. Ever since I was a wee lad, Ive aspired to be a wizard and to follow in your most bodacious footsteps. He smiled softly and said, Its always nice to meet a fan. Would you care to lunch with me? Only more than anything in the entire world! I exclaimed. We moved back to the carpet, and he pulled a picnic basket from his jeans. Inside were a bunch of cheese sandwiches and bottles of moose sweat. This would be my first real meal in days, and I ate with relish, trying to also maintain a semblance of civility all the while. Merlin didnt touch the food, he merely toyed with his beard and waited for me to finish. Thank you for the repast, O Wizardly One. If I may, could I ask a favor of you? He inclined his head, and motioned for me to ask my favor. I have not dabbled in the arcane for quite some time; indeed, ever since I was rejected from the Durmstrang Institute, I had lost much of my will to learn the art. However, meeting you now has renewed my desire to become a wizard, and I would greatly appreciate any advice you could give me. The wizard closed his eyes and thought for what felt like an hour, his hands folded in his lap. Abruptly, he cleared his throat and opened his eyes. My boy, there is no great secret to being a wizard, and magic means many different things to different people. However, I will give you this one piece of advice, a reminder really: never forget that magic comes from your heart, and that strong hearts produce the purest magic. It does not matter if your heart is strong with love and your magic is white, or if your heart is full of hate and your magic is black, or if your heart falls somewhere in between. What does matter is that you stay true to yourself, and that you do not shy away from new experiences and encounters; that you never lose hope and never

lose sight of your dreams and goals. Do this, and your heart will be strong, and your magic will be dope. If you cower, and compromise, and rationalize, and become a prisoner of your own fears and anxieties, your magic will wither and atrophy. He heaved a sigh, and smiled kindly. Thats all Ive got for you, kid. Leave now, I know you have a great journey ahead of you, for the winds have been whispering your name for some time. I wish you the best of luck, and if you should ever complete your quest, feel free to visit me. I should like to hear how this story ends. With that, he vanished, and I found myself alone in the Waste once more. I rose, my sense of purpose renewed, and his words committed to memory. I turned toward the setting sun and smiled, letting the cool breeze caress my skin. Best get back to it, I thought. I shouldered my pack, and sprinted in the direction of Dresden once more. Chapter 4: Many moons later, I saw something I never expected to see in this barren landscape: dense, lush jungle. I burned it to the ground and continued on. Chapter 5: It was not long before Dresden loomed in the distance. In more prosperous times, the city was decadent and its skyscrapers could be seen from miles around; now, it was no more than a glorified shanty town, with few buildings taller than a single story. It subsisted on the patronage of two very different visitors: pilgrims seeking the wisdom of the oracle and spice merchants. Its location was such that it was along a minor melange trade route, so it would see the fare of

caravans and their escorts semi-frequently, relying mainly on their coin to sustain the few shops and taverns that comprised the town. The largest tavern, The Misty Lady, also doubled as an inn, and it was here that rested when I arrived. After a brief respite, I went downstairs and sat at the bar. I was one of two customers currently inside; the other appeared to passed out in a booth in the back, still gripping his grog. The bartender meandered toward me, leaned on the bar and asked, What can I get for you, son? I ordered a glass of milk and a cheese sandwich, placing fifteen rupees on the counter. Keep the change. He eyed the coin warily for a second, and then quickly swept it into his pocket after giving it a brief sniff. He looked pleased, and grinned widely at me. He didnt have a single tooth in his head. Thank you kindly, son. Ill have that right out. Names OSeamus, by the way. Pleasure to meet you. He disappeared into the back. A few minutes later, he reappeared with the milk and sandwich. I ate with great relish; the cheese was fantastic, and the milk was ice-cold. OSeamus took the opportunity to attempt to rouse the sleeping man in the back, but the best he could get from him was a dismissive grunt ere he fell back into his stupor. I waited for him to return to the bar and asked, Do you have any clue where I might find the oracle? He flinched, almost imperceptibly, at the mention of the seeress and paused to think. If you walk down this main street here- he gestured outside, -for about a mile, youll come to a ravine. Travel through it for a bit and youll find her. Shell want an offering though, she always does. I nodded and patted my pack. The usual, right? He nodded in return and replied, Ayuh. Thirty-seven dog pelts.

With the information I needed now stored safely away in my mind, I stood up and belched, as was customary in Dresden. OSeamus belched a mighty belch in return, a tear in his eye. Aint many that remember the old ways, fair traveler. I wish you luck, and may you find whatever it is youre looking for. Thank you, OSeamus. Mind that vase, now. He turned, and as he was about to ask What vase? he jostled an urn full of sunflowers with his elbow, knocking it to the ground. I guffawed, and pointed to the sign over his head. It read: Know thyself, and when thou art infringing upon copyrighted materials. I continued guffawing as I sauntered out of the bar. I turn in the direction of the ravine and began to walk once more. After a few step, I pulled out my cell phone and entered the code that would detonate the bomb I had placed underneath my stool in the bar. The explosion followed right after, leveling what was left of the derelict town that was Dresden. Chapter 6: I walked down the road for a few minutes more; the sun was to my back, and it was not long before the path began to slant downward. The ravine was cut deep into the earth, and was flanked on either side by tall stone walls, stretching for miles toward the sky. Bones and used condoms littered the ground near its entrance, and I was careful to avoid stepping on either. The Oracle was notorious for her booby traps and I had no desire to bleed out in some snare after coming all this way. Eyes and ears peeled, I took my first step inward. I paused, listening for the hypothetical giant boulder that could be rolling toward me, or the poisoned dart that could be hurtling toward my face. After a breathless minute of strained listening to no avail, I deemed myself safe for the moment and strode further into the passage. The walls were barely spaced widely enough to

allow me to walk without tucking my shoulders in, and occasionally I would be jostled by a rock jutting out of the wall. Other than that, the jaunt went smoothly, with only the occasional mating call of a howler monkey breaking the silence. After approximately seventy miles, the walls began to widen and the ground started to slope upward. I had braved the ravine with nary a nick to show for it, and the dwelling of the Oracle could not be far ahead. Rejuvenated by the thought, I began to skip. It was a matter of minutes before I found myself in a wide-open plain, and I took the time to stretch my arms, relishing the freedom of movement. While twirling, I saw a hut not too far off, surrounded by a number of lemon trees, all in full bloom. Checking my pack again to confirm the dog pelts were still there, I shimmied over. As I approached, I was able to make out some more details about the hut. It was roughly square, and appeared to be constructed of bamboo shoots. There was a chimney with thick purple smoke coming out of it, and a small cabbage patch on its left side. The door was unremarkable except for its knob, which was a mans penis. I took several deep breaths, and knocked upon the door, each strike creating a beautifully sonorous sound that was not unlike a note played upon a piccolo. From within, a voice croaked: Come in, come in. Ive been expecting you. I pissed myself with excitement and opened the door. Chapter 7: The room was dark, for there were no windows, and when the door slammed shut behind me, I could see nothing except the faint outline of a woman. She spoke once more, Please, take

a seat. I blindly felt the area around me until I grabbed hold of what I believed to be a chair and sat down. Would you like anything to drink? Water would be fantastic, please. Ive only got moose sweat, help yourself. There was a quiet whoosh and I was struck in the face with a terracotta pot. I managed to snag it before it fell and took a large swig of the refreshing beverage. Thank you, kindly. Great and Powerful Oracle, Sweet Mama Jean, I have come here to- I know why youve come, you twat; I wouldnt be much of an oracle if I didnt. The problem, you see, is that YOU dont know why you are here. Tell me, what is it that has driven you here? I was taken slightly aback, and had to think for a second. Oracle, I have come here because it is my destiny to come here. This meeting has been spoken of and prophesized for countless millennia; it is the reason why I was raised and trained, and it is the reason why I sit here before you today. All of my life has been naught but preparation for this moment, for I was told that my destiny would be revealed here, and that, with that knowledge, I would be able to carry out the rest of my life. Bullshit. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. The words you speak are tripe; lovely tripe, but tripe nonetheless. You would have me believe you are nothing more than a tool, boy-o? The Akademy saw a need a purpose- and crafted you to take on the job? Laughable. Youre a damn fool. She leaned to the side and farted; my heart was racing. Youre dust in the wind, boy-o. I dont much feel like speaking to you anymore, begone.

Fury and sadness and confusion were welling up within me the entire time she spoke, and with that simple dismissal, I could keep my emotions under control no more: Listen here, you old bitch! Ive killed to be here! I have traveled hundreds of thousands of miles, dealt with tornadoes and starvation, trekked over mountains and through forests, all to be here! I killed your goddamn dogs, I threw my pack at her feet, I have loved and laughed and wept and suffered like no other, all for the sake of meeting you, and I will not be turned down! Her chair creaked as she leaned forward; her profile was faint in the dark, but visible, and her grin enraged me further. Youre a tool, boy-o. You're the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world, boy-o, and youve come all this way only to find out that youre a square peg. And guess what, boy-o? Im a fucking round slot. Now once more, begone. I dont much like having tools of the Akademy in my presence. I stood, fists clenched and shaking. I replied through gritted teeth, I know what I am, seeress, and Im no pawn, you dig? I may have been molded and shaped by those who would seek to use me and those who would profess to know my heart better than I, but my soul remains my own. I come here not because I am supposed to, not for some prophecy, but because I have chosen to; because it is my greatest desire to know what I am, and what I must do. Now, if you cant help me, were done here; I shall find someone who will, and I shall not hold it against you. But I will die before accepting that some old hag accuses me of being a tool of the Akademics. I turned and moved toward the door. As I was reaching for the knob, I heard her cackle. Aye, boy-o, youve done well. Sit once more and we shall palaver. I cannot give you all the answers you seek right away, but there are a few things that need to be said.

Chapter 8: Youre an experiment, dear boy-o, and I must say youre doing exceptionally well! The last few times you tried to reach me, you left in the middle of my browbeating, eyes full of tears! And I still shudder to think of the countless times you just barely made it out of the room before the dogs devoured you. Indeed, you are making excellent progress. As I struggled with her words, I felt the onset of terrible migraine. What do you mean, the last few times? This is the first time Ive ever met you! She smiled, and asked, They told you I was notorious for my booby traps, did they not? And yet, did you encounter a single snare on your way through the gorge? No, I replied, as I began to tear up. The migraine was worsening by the second and I could barely focus. Well, they did not lie, she cackled, as she lifted up her shirt to reveal two breast-shaped landmines. Crippled by the migraine, I was not even able to raise an arm as the shrapnel exploded outward and buried itself into my face. The pain was unbearable, and I dropped to the floor. I was quickly losing consciousness as I felt the Oracle kneel down beside me and pat my cheek. She whispered gently into my ear,Better luck next time, boy-o. It was the last thing I heard before everything went dark. Epilogue: My face was bleeding profusely and I had no idea where I was. I glanced around and saw nothing that could give me a clue about my location; meanwhile, my face continued bleeding. In the distance, thousands of dogs were howling.