John Dies at the End

by David Wong

We all glanced at each other, figuring we could either pull over or plow through the snowstorm for the slowest police chase since O.J.

I had the crazy thought that no wonder they didn’t pay to light the place. Most of the people here didn’t have eyes. No need to pay the extra electric bill. No matter where you go, management is always a bunch of cheap bastards.

North said, “I was born here. And as for what they’re doing out there, well, they’re doing the same thing all thinking creatures do, from the moment they come to life. Trying to change the world as they see fit.”

I said, “Good. John, pry the bomb from Molly’s colon and blow this fucker.”

John glanced at Molly and said, “Shit the bomb, Molly.”

“Let’s blow it up then.” He leaned down and grabbed Molly by the shoulders. “We need you to shit the bomb, Molly. Shit it! Shit the bomb!” She didn’t even try. John said, “Fuck it. Let’s light the dog on fire.”

“Our world,” he said, “is far more advanced than yours. For reasons you’ll understand shortly.” A thin, bony naked woman entered the room, carrying two small, white kittens. She sat one of the fluffy cats in my lap and stuffed the other down my shirt. She turned and left. “There,” said the large man. “The kittens will make your sad go away.”

“Now,” said the large man, “knowing your world, this part may be a difficulty for you. Let me give you an example. In your world, as in mine, is it not considered bad to take and use, without permission, an object that another man is currently using or depending on?” “Yes, in our world we call this ‘stealing,’” said John, with some impatience. “It is considered a greater crime, though, to unleash killer spiders on an unarmed crowd. We call that ‘arachnicide.’”

He gathered all of his concentration and went about rolling the one, perfect cigarette that could save our universe.

“Now be honest with me. Can you do that? Do you have a real personality in there or is everything an interview technique with you?”

“She’s gonna stay here and watch you. Now we don’t know what exactly you morph into, but if it’s like those things we saw before, we know one weakness is fire. Amy, if you see Dave turn into any kind of monster, set him on fire. Dave, show Amy where the flammables are in this house. Get her a lighter and one of those huge cans of hairspray that old ladies use, if you have any. Got it?” John climbed to his feet, Amy looking at him with an incredulous, squinted look, like he had broken some new bounds of human idiocy that she previously had not thought possible.

“We all do. Let’s all move away. Bring John if you want.” Bring John, she says. Like he’s my pet ...

The memory was hazy and unreal, like the memories of the hamster we owned when I was five, the one that escaped and then got eaten by a snapping turtle. I can’t picture it, but I know it was there. And that it wasn’t very fast.

“Oh, there is, Arnie. I know there is. It’s called being willing to sacrifice everyone around me for the cause. And why not? All of the great men do it. The pyramids were built with tens of thousands of nobodies who were worked to death so that the big thing could be achieved. That’s the name of the game, that’s how you defeat the bad guys. Just be willing to spend your friends like pennies, that’s all. You asked me earlier if I was a sociopath. Well, you’d better hope I am because the world was built by sociopaths, men willing to send a million innocent boys into battle to be chopped to screaming giblets, all so a banner can be raised over another piece of land with houses and markets and roads soon after.”

“Which would prove I’m a monster, Arnie? Sacrificing the people I love for the fight? Or walking away from the fight to save the people I love?”

I waved my hand dismissively toward the horizon. “Eh, it didn’t work out. Turned out he was dead the whole time. He didn’t even know it. He was a semi-solid astral body.” “I hate it when they do that.”

John said, “Yeah, it’s not a big deal for me to lift heavy objects. I’m sort of used to it, if you know what I mean.” I held up a hand to silence him. “John—” “Of course I’m talking about my penis.” I said to Amy, “Ignore him. His penis is just like everybody else’s.”

He retrieved the ball from the grass, then heaved a chest pass at me that missed badly. I turned to watch the ball go and, sure enough, saw it hit the black sphere and disappear just like the piece of concrete had. “Whoops,” said John. “I tossed our ball into another universe.” “You wanna go home?” “Yeah, just let me get my ball.”