If This Book Exists, You're in the Wrong Universe (John Dies at the End, #4)

by Jason Pargin

Sebastian fell to his knees. Then he started bawling, crying in a way that I wasn’t sure his body could survive, like it was tearing itself apart with jerks and spasms of grief.

“You did this right and absolutely everything else wrong. In my world, Amy has health insurance. We travel. We have friends. We have . . . we have a lot. More than I can even make you understand right now.” “But you don’t have John.”

“Look around at your life. Where he is, it always looks like this, all the mess, the chaos. He always ends badly, and, yeah, that’s tragic or whatever, but the world is full of tragic fuckups, and you need to find better friends. You owe it to yourself, you owe it to the world.” “If I hadn’t met John, I wouldn’t be here at all.”

“No. What’s ruining the culture is worshipping people who pretend they don’t have flaws. We’re all broken. And you couldn’t pull this off because you didn’t have John.”

He sighed and rubbed his face in a way that I’d done a hundred thousand times in my life. He shook his head, smiled a little, then stuck out his hand. “I never did enjoy my own company. Look, you saved mankind or whatever, so that’s pretty good.” I shook his hand.

“Who the fuck could that be?” I say that every time someone knocks on my door, even though there are lots of people it could reasonably be on any given day. Though that was less true on this day; John was already there, and I wasn’t expecting any deliveries, since it was a national holiday.

The four of us found a nice spot in the shade this time, which was good since the day was as hot as Godzilla’s meth pipe.

“The cardiologist tells me that all I require is a regimen of medications that each carry obnoxious side effects and also to give up every single vice that makes my life worth living.” He pulled out a flask and poured a generous amount into his coffee. “But I am certain I can rise to the challenge.”

“You do know that this means there will be expectations, in terms of the quantity and quality of work,” replied Marconi. “You would earn your pay. And I assume you can all pass a standard employment background check?” In near-perfect unison, John and I said, “Oh, fuck no.”

“This is going to sound like an idle question, but it’s not. Why did you move here? I know you’d heard of this place. You had to have been expecting weirdness. You don’t go to Woodstock assuming you’ll never see a hippie’s dick.”

Never Forget That You Are Meat A. The one thing we know for sure about our possibly simulated world is that we are experiencing it via meat. All your thoughts are running through meat, and therefore, a lot of what you’re perceiving about the universe is just meat stuff. Feel like the world is doomed? There’s a good chance that’s only because your meat isn’t getting enough sleep. Mad at everyone? It might just be that your meat is hungry. In a state of panic? Take deep breaths—you might just not have enough oxygen in your blood. If the world feels off to you, always check your meat first. B. Your meat needs physical and emotional contact with other meat. Humans are social animals, and you need a pack to call your own, whether that’s friends, family, or whatever. Do you find your mind going to dark, freaky places if you spend too much time in a quiet room? That’s just loneliness corrupting your meat. If your current group makes you miserable, find a different one. Do not try to go it alone. C. Unless you’re a toddler, you shouldn’t need a list of rules about what exactly you should or shouldn’t do every day. Your meat has impulses, and some of them cannot be satisfied without harming yourself or others. Deep down, you know which ones those are. This is a battle you’ll be fighting every day from now until you die, and you have to take each situation as it comes. The good news is that you’re not alone: Billions of other people are going through the exact same thing and, believ...

Now turn off whatever machine you’re reading this on and go the fuck outside.