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 it.

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 than before.

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 a haiku.

This bloody jungle
Enemies all around me

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: 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 nature.

DAY THIRTY: #&*% Dr. Livingston. #&*% Chilo. #&*% Dr. Livingston. #&*% Chilo.

DAY THIRTY-ONE: If Doctor Livingston isn't dead when I reach that temple, I swear I'm going to wring his blinking neck.

DAY THIRTY-TWO: 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.

[The preceding 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.]


Oh no, not an FFI spell.

Someone is actually suprised I enter their home in a video game?

I didn't know tigers came in BRIGHT RED.