The Amazingly True Journal
of Professor Stanley In Search Of Dr. Livingston
DAY ONE: I arrived at the
curiously landlocked harbor, only to find that my old collegue Popeye,
to whom I entrusted the supplies I would need to survive in the jungle,
had let his guard down and allowed my machete and a grapnel to be stolen
while he crawled around a contruction site. I was confused at first,
since I couldn't remember ever including a 'grapnel' in my provisions.
Then I remembered the locals were descended of peasant stock and sheep,
and 'grapnel' was their word for a grappling hook. The village was rather
quaint and reminded me of my home in the English countryside. Right
down to the green skinned hunchbacks hobbling up and down the street.
The women were lovely and courteous. Both of them. I stopped by the
house of my puffy British friend to gather more information as to the
whereabouts of Dr. Livingston. He had told him all he knew about the
location of the temple... but he knew more!! My last stop in town was
at the hut of Chilo, the leprechaun. He put all his soul and 2 frames
of animation into the spirit realm, and told me that I could find the
good doctor in the temple to the north, and I should obey the masters.
I thanked him and found my machete in the giant spider's house. I then
made work of the beast with it- to my suprise my machete, a long knife
used to cut through thick foliage, had been replaced with two small
steak knives. They broke against the spider's hide, leaving me to use
the old Zulu method of walking close enough to them to trigger them
to fall, then hit them while they rose back up. I stumbled from the
hut, my bruised knuckles aching and my 'machetes' broken. A completely
random tribal warrior then appeared and stabbed me through the chest
with a spear.
DAY TWO: After some intervention
by the Great Will of the Grand Universe, I set out into the jungle to
find that I had greatly overestimated my physical strength. The same
punch that knocked out many a drunken sot in a pub proved to be nigh
useless against the ravenous beetles and tiny flies. A vicious snake
spit venom at me, I prevented harm to my body by absorbing it with my
face. I then knelt on the snake and pummeled it, intent on defeating
DAY SIX: Spent from battle
and nuerotoxins, I collapsed over a Burmese tiger trap.
DAY SEVEN: After awaking
in the village, I went through the sections of the jungle I had already
past. I located the Grapnel in an underground cavern, neatly place on
a stone pedestal like a shrine. After crawling out of the pit and being
descended on by a spider, I used the tiny helicopter to fly to the tree
branch where I found a blue tribal mask. I took it, then was killed
by another tribal warrior.
DAY EIGHT: I grow hungry,
damp, and tired as I approached the river. I'd heard many a tale of
adventurers in the South American jungle being ferried down the river
on the backs of friendly crocodiles. I tentatively straddled one of
the great reptiles, taking a moment to accustom myself to the cold,
scaly seat, then the razor sharp teeth around my waist. I had first
assumed this was a naturally-occuring safety restraint device, this
lapse in judgement allowed the beast to swallow me headfirst. Doctor
Livingston was nowhere to be found.
DAY NINE: I actually bested
a blowgun shooting native, only to be bitten by a snake. Delirious with
victory, I attempted to scale an impossibly tough cliff. I quickly gave
up and returned to the riverbank. The alligators were no more helpful
DAY TEN: I have officially
passed the thresholds of death by starvation or sleep deprivation. Dennis
Hopper and several others introduced me to their master. Sadly, this
wasn't the temple I was looking for.
DAY SIXTEEN: The alligator
teeth removed from my spine fetch a fair price. I allowed myself the
luxury of a stay that the village inn and a hot bath before setting
off yet again. People look at me strangely. Chilo compliments my ponytail.
Such a shock to discover it was an engorged leech sucking blood directly
from my medulla. In bed now. nurse pretty. sun isgood i like food. This
is what my daddy looks like.
DAY TWENTY: A tiger attacked
me today! Oh, what a terrifying ordeal that was. As I fled like a Frenchman,
it leapt over my head and into a bottomless pit. Being unable to reach
the climbing vines, I too, plummeted. I found a network of ropes and
ladders. I descended a vine to discover a GAME OVER screen. Please,
God, for my sake. Press A to continue.
DAY ???: Much embittered
by the cruel environs, I have been killing things indescriminately.
Despite the ornate patterns I've drawn on my naked body in dried blood,
I am still a kind and compassionate person. To wit, I have composed
Enemies all around me
I thought I found Dr. Livingston, but it turned out to be the set of
clothes I had misplaced during my temporary feral state. I was happy
to put them back on until I discovered forty-three hitherto unknown
species of poison dart frogs living in my front pockets. How I loathe
#&*% Dr. Livingston. #&*% Chilo. #&*% Dr. Livingston. #&*%
If Doctor Livingston isn't dead when I reach that temple, I swear I'm
going to wring his blinking neck.
The boys from my college fraternity showed up in an SUV, laughing at
how well their Dr. Livingston haze had worked on me. I laughed too,
then I fashioned a knife from my own toenails and flayed them alive.
journal is a dramatization. The real Dr. Livingstone and Stanley are
alive and well somewhere inside his cartridge, and will be so long as
they are kept in a cool, dry place.]