We pause are regularly scheduled story to bring you the following:
The Teachings of Tomorrow
By: Jack Nimble
Good evening gentle reader of this fine article. It has been many a day since your humble reporter has graced you with his ever verbose wordsmithmanship. I have spent this time gathering unimaginable rumors and searched countless gutters for the various going ons of the citizens of our fair(y) city. Yet today I have come preaching not as a common gossip whoremonger, but as one who has truly seen the ending of this great world He created for us.
A simple call to a local 1-800 number was the catalyst for these events. I, along with the handful of readers who informed me of this number, succumbed to the same curiosity which doomed Pandora and that damn cat. I called, never believing that what I would hear would change my life and yet it did. The call was answered by a soulful sounding elderly woman, who opened our conversation by greeting me by name. Immediately your ever prepared writer was thrown off by this sudden turn of events and tried, in vain, to bring the conversation back to a more scientific view point.
I asked this "psychic", who is listed under the name Marilyn Goosenson, how she is able to "foresee" the future, as she proclaims it. Crystal ball? Magic wands? Voodoo? Some weird New Age homo-erotic sex ritual? She didn't answer and simply said, and I quote, "Jack, beware. Beware the fire and hill. You will save her, but at a great cost to yourself."
That was it. Before I could say another word she thanked me for calling and told me that the call would be charged to my phone bill and if I had any complaints, take them to hell with me when I go. Then there was silence. I sat dumbfounded at what I had just learned. Should she be taken seriously? Could this be at all real? I doubted it.
Three days later, I was at the Fairy City chapter of NASA, asking where the hell our flying cars were. I've raged on and on about this before, when the hell are we getting flying cars!!!??? In the 1950's, NASA said we'd be living on the moon in fifty years. I haven't seen one advertisement for any summer homes on the moon lately. You can build a robot that acts like a dog and then send it to Mars to look around and get emails in space, but not even a car that hovers. Shit, I'd be happy with a flying Pinto, just get me a flying car. I got the money for it. If you could fake the moon landing and keep your aliens hidden this long why not a flying car? I'd be willing to forget all of that if I just got one single flying fucking car. Get on the ball, nerds.
I digress. As I was leaving the NASA facility, still angry over no one answering my question on flying cars, I came upon a horrific site. A nearby tenement building was slowly burning to the ground. With no sign of help on the way, I volunteered, much like I did while serving our city in it's failed civil war against those damn Kentuckians. Standing watching the fire was the most gorgeous woman I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. Her name was Jill.
I never asked her how long the fire was burning, nor did I need to. The building half destroyed answered my question for me. I asked her to help me put the fire out and she never answered me. She simply pointed to the top of this hill behind the building that contained a well at it's peak. I grabbed her by her arm and leaped over a fallen piece of the buildings ceiling and ran towards the top of the hill.
As I reached the top, I quickly filled a small pail with water from the well and then turned to race back down the hill. As I took my first step towards the building, Jill tripped me. I fell face first down the hill and smashed my face on the ground at the bottom. I rolled over onto my back only to look up and have Jill smash the pail into my face. She attacked me brutally for what seemed like hours. She was later restrained by those three pigs who are running the Fairy City police out of business.
While I was being stitched up and the fire was being put out, I was informed by the pigs that Jill is actually an escaped mental patient who suffers from pyromania. The building was mental institution that she was placed in and no one inside survived. I was told that she would have easily have killed me if I tried to put the fire out with the water from the well.
After I was safely back home, with cuts and scraps all over my visage. I thought nothing of the phone call until the next morning when I learned that the broken teeth I received from the viscious pail shots to the face would have to be paid from my own pocket because my insurance ended four days ago and I never renewed it. Creepy.
She was right. About the fire, about the hill, about Jill, kinda. She was even right about me being broke afterwards. I'm telling you loyal readers, the future of tomorrow is as close as a phone call away. Listen to the Goose lady. She speaks from tomorrow. I, as always, am your bravest and most deserving icon. Worship me.
Jack Nimble
The views expressed in the previous article are those of the writer and do not express the views of the Fairy City Gazette, it's employees, or our parent company, Ruler Ra Entertainment. Except for the flying cars thing. That would be so damn cool. Get to it nerds.
Author's Notes
Sorry for the long wait. I got sick last week and then got Vice City. If you've played it, you should know how addicting it is. Anyway, I started some sketches for the pic I'm going to put up and it should be finished soon, depending on my free time. Speaking of which, I need to know if it's worth me continuing to write this story. Me and my girlfriend are having a baby (we find out next Thursday if it's a boy or girl) and my free time is slowly disappearing (but for a good reason). I just need to know if I should use the little free time I get to continue to write this or do some other stuff. As usual, thanks in advance and I should have one more chapter up this week, but after that I'm not sure.
