Twistid
5,000+ posts
150.5
Beware, this is ONLY if you like reading!!
Page 1
Page 1
Page 2“Listen, son, you’re in a heap of trouble here,” the detective stubbed out his cigarette on the heel of his shoe, and settled in across from me.
“We’ve got you on charges of trespassing, vandalism, burglary, kidnapping, attempted bestiality, and grand theft tiger. We had to make that last one up just for you, kid. You know how rare it is to have to make up a crime for one person? I have literally never even heard of that. That’s how much trouble you’re in; you’ve created entirely new crimes of which you are incredibly guilty,” he let that last part settle in for a few minutes.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I began, picking what I hoped was fur from between my teeth.
“Well, let me tell you what we have down, and you can tell me if any of it sounds familiar. You entered the zoo at 10:30 on the morning of March 24, 2009…”
The smell of cotton candy and popcorn mixes with that of hay, manure, and the four Sparks you downed in the parking lot. The large woman in front of you is wearing leopard print stretch-pants that have long since abandoned the category of “pants” and ventured into the realm of “*** shrink-wrap.” The elastic quivers, as if longing to be released. You barely suppress the urge to snap the waistband, which would surely set off a tsunami of fat that would kill all those surrounding yo-
“Excuse me,” the beast turns on you, “are you…are you ****ing talking about me? You’re like, the biggest ******* in the entire world! I weigh 125 pounds, dickhead, and I’m standing right in front of you! I can hear you!”
Were you saying all that out loud?
“Did the spandex-monster pick up your thoughts somehow? You try to decipher her words, but all that comes out is the sound of incessant chewing and the slap of fat on fat as her lips impact each other,” are you still speaking aloud? The mix of caffeine, alcohol, and cough syrup blends the lines of your internal consciousness.
“You ****ing ***!” She screams, “My boyfriend is going to kill you.”
As she storms off toward what appears to be a particularly large, hairy Eskimo, you realize that you are ill-prepared to fight, but still nowhere near the front of the line.
If you stay and fight the WereEskimo, turn to page 2.
If you jump the line and bolt for the zoo, turn to page 3.
Page 3You turn to the approaching man-mountain with fists raised, your body humming with the burst of manic energy and the complete lack of coordination that the alcohol/codeine-psychosis has inspired in you. You decide to throw him off guard by doing something completely unexpected. Maybe you can make him think you’re crazy.
You charge at him, screaming, but at the last moment duck beneath his swinging fist. Your flying kick hits the zoo’s mascot, Honey the Bee, square in the crotch. As he crouches in pain, uncharacteristically swearing and gagging into his headpiece, you know your course of action was a total success; nobody would have ever expected that. You idly wonder what exactly you were trying to achieve when attacking a stuffed bee was an imperative, but you have long since forgotten. As the hulking arms fold around your neck, your second to last thought is “oh yeah, the Eskimo.” Your last thought, before the blackness comes, is unfortunately “I can never remember who did song that goes like ‘it’s the POWER of love, do doo doooo,’ man that has always bothe…re…d…”
THE END
Page 4You leap the hurdle blocking the entrance to the park and, to the startled cries of onlookers, you jump the barrier to the Sun-Bear exhibit and duck through the maintenance door. A surprised young Native American man in a beige jumpsuit quickly tucks something behind his back.
“It’s cool, man,” you assure him, “I’m cool.” You make a Fonzie double-thumbs up gesture, because that is cool.
“The **** you doin’ here, man?” He’s still hiding something behind his back, and you subtly try to maneuver yourself around him to get a better view. He seems perturbed by your incessant circling.
“Hiding from a giant Eskimo and an immense pile of a woman,” you reply.
Behind his back you make out the telltale signs of an illicit substance: a brown paper bag wrapped about a non-descript bottle.
“Whatcha got there?” You inquire.
“This? This is uh…” he eyeballs you suspiciously for a minute, but a few more mimed Fonzie gestures seem to set him at ease, “man, you’re already ****ed up! Haha! Okay, this is a little mix I made up for the days I gotta clean the bear cages.”
If you want to get messed up with a strange Indian in the back room of the Sun-Bear enclosure, turn to page 4.
If you want to get really messed up with a strange Indian in the back room of the Sun-Bear enclosure, turn to page 5.
You leap the hurdle blocking the entrance to the park and, to the startled cries of onlookers, you jump the barrier to the Sun-Bear exhibit and duck through the maintenance door. A surprised young Native American man in a beige jumpsuit quickly tucks something behind his back.
“It’s cool, man,” you assure him, “I’m cool.” You make a Fonzie double-thumbs up gesture, because that is cool.
“The **** you doin’ here, man?” He’s still hiding something behind his back, and you subtly try to maneuver yourself around him to get a better view. He seems perturbed by your incessant circling.
“Hiding from a giant Eskimo and an immense pile of a woman,” you reply.
Behind his back you make out the telltale signs of an illicit substance: a brown paper bag wrapped about a non-descript bottle.
“Whatcha got there?” You inquire.
“This? This is uh…” he eyeballs you suspiciously for a minute, but a few more mimed Fonzie gestures seem to set him at ease, “man, you’re already ****ed up! Haha! Okay, this is a little mix I made up for the days I gotta clean the bear cages.”
If you want to get messed up with a strange Indian in the back room of the Sun-Bear enclosure, turn to page 4.
If you want to get really messed up with a strange Indian in the back room of the Sun-Bear enclosure, turn to page 5.
Page 5You and Alex the Indian take turns hitting the bottle and sharing long-winded anecdotes about how bosses ****. As the hours pass, you find yourself bonding with this mysterious and fascinating man. He tells you that he likes to “get online and look at *******,” and you agree wholeheartedly. You give him your email address, and later you become fast friends. Throughout the years this friendship allows to assuage your white guilt by telling everybody that your “best friend is a Native American.” Your heart will later be broken when you learn he is actually Puerto Rican.
THE END
Page 6“Can I hit that?” You ask, though you have already wrestled the bottle from his hand and have been drinking deeply for several minutes.
“Shit! No! Not so much!” He jumps at you, but you deftly avoid him by falling over sideways, “You drank the whole ****ing thing? This is peyote tea, man. You are ****ed. You’re so ****ed…”
“I can handle my shit,” you inform him, flopping on the ground like an epileptic fish, “I’m a shit-handler!”
“****. Whatever. Listen, I guess you can hide out here for a while, but if anybody finds you, I don’t know you. Alright? I gotta get back to work…” He closes the door softly after him, and that is the last sound you hear before the darkness overwhelms you.
You awake to a complete absence of light and stumble about the room, trying to recall where you are. There are colors in the blackness. But they are soft and slippery. They distract you for several minutes. Why do your color-friends avoid you?
Eventually, you find the door and stagger out into the park. It is night-time; the zoo is closed and long since empty. But there are animals here still, and you instinctively feel that you “understand” them now. You are part of the animal world, after all, and all animals are one, aren’t they? Yes, you decide. Yes they are. And this is ****ing adventure time.
If you try to eat a penguin, turn to page 6.
If you set out for the big cats enclosure, to tell them you’ve always envied their crazy eyes, turn to page 7.
It was delicious, but you feel like a monster. The guilt pursues you until the end of your days.
THE END
