CHAPTER 1

My physical vessel was conceived on the back of a flatbed truck, sunk deep within the arms of a gigantic sarcophagus within a submarine traversing a deep oceanic trench somewhere in the South pacific. My parents were looking for the lost civilization of Atlana-itis Morrisette.

All they found was each other.

In the pitch black watery depths, with only the bioluminescent light-emitting organs of the deep sea fish and my father’s head strapped miner’s lamp to serve as makeshift replacement romantic candle mood lighting too many words were used unnecessarily here, my father deftly maneouvred his thoracic tentacles and neatly deposited his sperm package into my mothers eagerly awaiting cloaca. ‘So much for cabin fever huh babe?’ grimaced my dad, as he wiped the breeding slime from his mandibles and lit a cigarillo. Dad had both the demeanour and looks of Harrison Ford as Indiana jones, had Harrison Ford as Indiana jones been half-insect, half-mollusk… ‘Uurrgggghhhh Brk Brk Klk!’ clicked my mum seductively, who although being a highly intelligent humanoid insect of an unknown origin, was ill-equipped with the necessary oral ligature to speak recognizable English. Still my father intuitively grasped my mother’s emotive meaning and they both embraced warmly. With his second pair of legs, Dad maneouvred a record onto the gramophone turntable and flipped the switch. The warm strings of Roy Orbison’s ‘Only the Lonely’ filled the claustrophobic cabin. ‘I thought I was all alone in this world till I met you Mavis…’ said Dad. ‘Prrrrrrrrrgggklt Klt Klt…’ Mum replied (‘Klt Klt’ was Mum’s pet name for Dad), eyes half closed in the intimate ecstasy that only these two hideously rich yet hideously deformed freaks of nature knew. Then silence. A silence so deep there was nothing left to do but to surrender to it… And slow dance… They both sighed simultaneously as the song rose to its wailing crescendo, my parents staring into each other’s compound eyes with nothing but 100% pure insect love as they waltzed, 3 kilometres below the oceans surface on the back of a flatbed truck, sunk deep within the arms of a gigantic sarcophagus within a submarine traversing a deep oceanic trench somewhere in the South pacific. My parents were looking for the lost civilization of Atlana-itis Morrisette.

All they found was each other.

CHAPTER 2

I incubated as an egg in a tree stump on an unknown island in the Sargasso sea for twenty one years. The Submarine my parents were in was torpedoed by enemy forces. Possibly the anti-mutante league. It is still unclear who they were, but the logo I saw on the side of their ship (While I was incubating, I had a periscope that extended a short way from my shell out through the ventral orifice on my mothers belly.) looked suspiciously like a Mcdonald’s Golden Arches™ symbol overlaid by the coke Dynamic Ribbon™ mounted on an upside down cross with a tiny Jesus on fire, face contorted in a perpetual scream (he was of course upside down as well).

My memories of that night are not clear. While my peri-eggyscope was intact, I remember two dull thuds. Direct hits I surmise in retrospect. The lighting started failing as I watched my two parents embrace with their multiple arms... Although the submarines emergency sirens obscured his voice, I definitely saw my dad mouth the tender words ‘I fucking love you sexy ass dripping centipede bitch.’ And although the submarines emergency sirens obscured her voice, I definitely saw my mum mouth the words ‘Brreggghhh oaul klk pffftrrgh kltorhhhg klk klk.’ Dad intuitively grasped the internal meaning and they locked oral mandibles passionately.

They loaded me, egg and all into the torpedo loading mechanism. They each kissed me. Mum nuzzled my periscope with the kind of love and insect mucus that only mothers can give. Dad gave my periscope a stern handshake with all the stoic tenderness that only a repressed male father figure can withhold. They closed the door of the loading tube, which luckily was made of clear Perspex so I could still see out of it, back into the submarine. What luck! How convenient! Dad pressed the firing button and as I gathered velocity out of the vehicle, I watched an image that rapidly grew smaller and further away from me of my parents embracing and waving goodbye. As the image receded, I watched the now tiny walls of the submarine tiny interior collapsed in on them and tiny streams of water began to rush in from all tiny directions. I like to think that explains why I escaped the psychological scarring of such a tragic and traumatic experience, I simply didn’t get scarred cause when I watched it happen, it was on such a tiny scale that it hard to take very seriously. In fact watching my parents die in that size seemed almost hilariously comical, because they were so very, very tiny. And well, I guess that’s the sort of stuff that made me laugh at that age… Watching things change size, parents dying and so on. I mean it was like watching a flea circus from the back row of the stands. I expected cartoon kazoo music to kick in at any point. Suddenly the image disappeared completely. Blackness. Bad dramatic sentence structuring.

While my parents probably perished (or possibly, I like to think, were saved at the last minute by the lost civilization of AtlantisMorrisette who enthroned them insect king and insect queen.) I still remained reasonable optimistic. I had left home and was on my path to future fame and fortune. (clue to readers who are grieving over the noble dignified death of my parents: how would I have gotten the details in first chapter if both of them died? Wink x 2)

 

Chapter 3

I don’t know how long I floated in the ocean for. Shucks, when you only got a periscope seeing nothing but ocean to keep you occupied, you tend to lose contact with tangible reality. Tend to go a bit crazy. At one point I thought of draining the pacific and turning it into a gigantic skate park. But I realized that was ridiculous. I don’t even skate. Never have and Never will. Nor have i even ever had (or will have) the desire to. So why would I want to drain the pacific ocean for a reason that I don’t even support or identify with? What complete lunacy. Not to mention a practical and organizational nightmare. Then I started thinking, ‘then why did I think this?’(in reference to the skate park idea) That was something I could not answer with any level of satisfaction. Gradually as the paranoia, claustrophobia, cabin fever and habit of drinking seawater(just really liked the taste) set in, this original question ‘why did I think this?’(in reference to skate park idea) turned into ‘Which secret organization is planting these ideas via secret satellite into my head?’

My whole sense of time was distorted. On one hand while it was happening it felt like eternity to the power of infinite multiplied by 2, but when I finally ran ashore on the island, all I could think was ‘What? Already? That wasn’t long at all…' It was a pity I hit land at that point, as I was just beginning to enjoy myself. Part of me even wanted to somehow use my periscope as a sort of leverage device and push myself back into the ocean. I found the rocking motion quite comforting and reminiscent of the womb. That is if the womb was ice cold, turbulent during storms and full of sharks with gnashing teeth wanting to get to your soft insides but unable to pierce through your tough calcified shell.

But it was relaxing, rocking in the arms of mother ocean, at the whim of the currents… it gave me time to think and reflect on my life so far. I thought about where I came from and where I was going and tried to put things into perspective… my accomplishments, achievements, regrets and so on… Thought about my next move and Where I saw myself in five years time (King of the Omniverse, I was ambitious at that age)…

Anyway, I was washed ashore. I sat on the sand for days… then I realized that my shell actually had two tiny wheels that I could manipulate by spinning on the tiny rotating stool in the centre of my eggroom. This of course led to direction problems… Couldn’t really quite keep to a sharp direct line since I was spinning constantly. But eventually I made it to a piece of dry ground on top of a hill. Exhausted and dizzy, I passed out into a feverish sleep, just a lone egg on a hill on an unknown island floating somewhere in the Sargasso sea.

Chapter whatever the fuck im up to.

While I was asleep, a seed of a mighty Marbled Pine tree fell to earth on top of me in the vehicle of excrement, emitted from the colon of a Marbled Pine Cone Eating Wolverine. A strange animal, vegan purely on ethical and moral grounds. Wild, instinctual yet vaguely preachy and annoyingly self-righteous. Not to mention aloof. Possibly because it walked on stilts all the time.

(While this entire origin story up to this point might seem like incredibly random and improbable, it turns out that what happened to me in my formative years is actually just the typical yet highly specific breeding cycle for my species i.e Outcast Mutant Insect Parents attain tremendous wealth, and upon a chance meeting at a Barbados Calypso bar, fall in love and proceed to breed on board a submarine while trying to find a lost civilization at the bottom of a pacific oceanic trench, who are then sunk by torpedoes fired by an unknown enemy bearing a mysterious logo, forcing them to jettison their still egged young via torpedo tube into the murky depths of ocean where they are washed ashore upon an undiscovered island somewhere in the Sargasso sea)

Back to the seed. The seed sprouted into a sapling and as time passed and soil collected around and above me, that sapling grew into a towering tree. Meanwhile, sometime earlier on in this event, the wolverine had wandered off… Probably to eat some pine cones. ‘Mmm pine cones… gotta love dem pinecones! Tastes like respect for other living animals to me…’ I imagine he or she would’ve said, possibly grinning like a tarbaby (before you accuse me of being racist, I mean literally a baby made of tar, not the 1950’s horribly offensive not to mention outright racist mis-representation of a jungle bunny).

Anyway for some weird reason, the xylem and phloem that transported the water in the ground to the roots to the trunk of the tree had tremendous ambition. They figured if they could transport water and nutrients to the tree, why not a giant insect egg that had been floating in the ocean for an undetermined length of time? Wouldn’t that make the rest of the forest /other trees on that island seem like a bunch of fucking pussies. ‘Yeah that would show em’ the tree thought conspiratorially… “ Cant wait to see the look on their faces when I show em the egg in my hollow.. “What now fellas? Am I a tree or a fucken chicken faggots?”

Unfortunately the only other tree on the island was a withered palm tree with a psychotic temperament, bad temper and a raging inferiority complex too boot. The Palm tree had always taken shit from the Marbled Pine Tree and it got to him. The Pine always called him names like ‘Monocotelydon’ and ‘Cheap tacky piece of tropical kitsch shit.’ Eventually the Pine snapped and hired a hitman to assassinate him. Unfortunately he couldn’t find one he could afford so eventually just hired a lumberjack to do the same thing but for half the price. The Marbled Pine was severed inches above the cavity where I was nestled and the lumberjack was paid in coconuts.

Chapter Hooesybutt

I sat in that fucking tree stump cavity for twenty one years before it occurred to me that I had the option of hatching. Which was a bitch cause I had done a lot of interior decorating in my egg and it seemed a waste just tear it down like that… But as some old wise dude once said to someone he was probably trying to fuck by impressing them with his wisdom, ‘Don’t get too attached to shit, sometime you got to tear down that awesome pad you made for yourself in that egg you live in so you can get some milk or phone credit from the shop down the road or some shit…’

Chapter 232

I punched a hole through the top of the shell and the light broke my eyes and burned memories of the holy visions of my destiny. Angel wings fell from the sky barbecued to perfection. Teensy tiny bits of god, battered and fried like pop corn chicken started hailing down from the skies… In gathered a handful and shoved them all in my mouth at once. Tasted like boiled shit. And there I was with a 5cent-a-cup lemonade stall, looking bored and resting my head on my hands.

Chapter 7 or 8 I’m guessing.

Man why are you still reading this? Don’t you have something better to do? Don’t you have a life to lead and loves to live out? Go out into the sunshine and drink God’s light. Talk to a friend. Call your parents. Make peace with your enemies. Learn to cliff dive.

Chapter 323

Wow, I have to admit, I’m really losing my enthusiasm for finishing this thing. Starting to think it’s a totally stupid idea and the writing is coming off as a really annoying shitty version Kurt Vonnegut. I mean it has definitely started to peter out. Still I feel compelled to continue to prevent myself from self-harm.

Chapter 324

I bought my personality off ebay for the lowest bidding. Cost me 5 coconuts. It came via carrier pigeon, in a clear glass ampoule attached to a massive yet aesthetically pleasing syringe. I injected it into my spine straightaway. On second thoughts, this first injection experience probably was what led to my future abuse of morphine. Associating that first needle injection experience with the euphoria of suddenly having an identity, some apparently solid yet totally amorphous thing that you all of a sudden had to defend and protect at all times to serve as a barrier between you and ultimate unity so you could function as a totally separate entity in a state of constant loneliness and despair was definitely positive reinforcement for my future narcotic habits.

Chapter 2351235

Then in 2003 decided to try stand up comedy.