The Book of Macabre
CONSUMER CONTROL INFO: This is a ‘Region 1’ copy of The Book of Macabre. It may only be read by those who liveth in Region 1, wherever the hell that is. Unless thou liveth in Australia, thou must buyeth the “Region 2, 3, 4, or 4½” Version. Otherwise, thou’rt just shit outta luck.
(The Book of Macabre was brought to thee by the Pessimists Club. “Things art not as bad as they seemeth— they art worse… much worse.”
New and Improved! Now featureth chapter titles!)
‘Of Goats and Testicles’
In the Land of Competition there lived a man with just one ball, and he was greatly mocked, yet no one knoweth who dwelt in this time to mock him. For this man didst exist before the dawn of the Titans, and little was known of him, save that he had a son, who was one bitter little puppy.
And there the generations of his line art lost in the wars of the Titans. All that was known of him was that he was imprisoned beyond time and space, for he had proven dangerous to all the gods who didst exist in any Age. And there it was believed he wouldst remain for all Time, lest someone releaseth him from the void…
And yet, as mountains crumbled and oceans rose, as the Elder Ones, and the Titans and the Ancient Gods, and even Jehovah, didst rise and fall, this ancient evil didst grow strong on its own madness. For, though its origins were lost to memory, it was still one bitter little puppy.
And so it came to pass one day, that a careless adventurer didst draw an ancient weapon, never meant for gods or men to wield, and he didst scoff at the elders who didst chide him for not saying the magic words when he didst remove the weapon from its resting place. So now that ancient evil, which in this world didst call itself The Man, finally stood face to face with the very warrior who had released him, and was now cursed as the only one who couldst stop him…
‘…Now what?’ quoth Nori.
‘Now we art in deep shit,’ quoth Richard.
‘ ’Tis times like this,’ quoth Yoco, ‘I’m glad the Gods of Hondo cursed me with immortality.’
‘At times like this, I asketh myself…’ quoth Casey, ‘why didst I not become a shoe salesman?’
‘So,’ asked The Man, ‘if I may throw in an old action movie cliché, hast thou any last requests, Scoot the Ko’An, before I finish thee?’
‘Aye,’ quoth Scoot, and he didst quantemplate with whole new uncertainty factors, for he knew this might be his last chance… ‘Ummmm… just giveth me a sec…’
And Narayana didst lend Scoot her psychic energy to helpeth him in his quantemplations…
Meanwhile, Richard didst borrow Scoot’s cell phone and didst call the Hondo Hotline. But all he didst get at first was a message.
And this is the message on the Hondo Hotline: ‘The God of Serving the Beam is not available to answer his shoe…’
‘Shoe?’ quoth Richard. ‘What the fuck happened to the Red Phone?’
‘ ’Tis out of order, for its range doth not reach unto this plane; only cell phones worketh here…’ spake a voice on the other end of the line. For it didst sound tinny, as if coming from a bad connection to Neptune. ‘ ’Tis I, Derrick, God of Dammit…’
‘Dammit!’ bellowed Richard, ‘We couldst use thy help…’
‘Hast thou an extension cord and a railroad spike?’ asked the God of Flirting.
‘No,’ quoth Richard.
‘I didst not think so… Well,’ spake the God of Magic, ‘it’s not like the world will endeth if The Man doth win— Oops, gotta go, for Flipper hath started sexually molesting Timmy again…’
And the God of Hawai’ian Shirts didst hang up.
‘…May I tell thee a joke?’ Scoot finally said unto The Man, for he had read of the lost Flathead Lake Scrolls, and knew that if he couldst hold out seven more seconds…