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The Horrifying Genesis The day begins like all others. After a night of pitchers 'n' pins at Serra Bowl with your Webmonkey homies, it takes seven snooze sessions before you manage to tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen for a steaming-hot cup of love. Buttressed by coffee-y goodness, you manage to scrounge up a half-plate of curly fries from the pile of dirty dishes. You give them a tentative bunny sniff and recoil - they smell like rotting sponge vomit. But they look fine, so you pop them in the microwave for seven minutes on high ("long enough to kill anything"). While you wait for the potato ringlets to sterilize, you fire up the computer for the usual obsessive clicking around The Monkey. You're just about to lovingly revisit Jay's Intro to XML, when the microwave starts making a strange humming sound. You turn to see the device is glowing and (my god!) bulging. Before you can duck and cover, the explosion rips through time and space, peppering the computer, mouse, and your clicking hand with searing, mutilated fries. Shaking, you look down at what's left of your hand and gasp, Nooooo! This ... can't ... be! One Year Later ... You're browsing through the Young Adult section of Brentano's, and who should you run into but Josh. "Jumping Jehovah!" exclaims Josh. "Is it really you? I haven't seen you since bowling night, like, what - a year ago?" "I've been, well ... going through some changes," say you. "Well, you look the same to me! Glory be, it's good to see you! Put 'er there, pard!" Smiling faintly, you look down at his waiting hand. After a moment's hesitation, you place your "hand" into his. Puzzled, he looks down at what he's now holding. As the horror spreads across his face, you right-click your mighty mousehand, and time stops. You've clicked on heads of state, arms of the law, members of Congress - and you've seen what lurks in the dark, dingy cul-de-sacs of their minds. You know what they know, have seen what they've seen. And frankly, it's all become a little boring. But surely Josh's mind harbors a surprise or two? You enter his brain and scroll down the list:
You recoil at Josh's wretched fantasy life. You hustle out of the bookstore and find yourself back out on the street. Do you: Or Flee the Monkeys and try to piece together the shattered pieces of your life all alone? |