Chapters (22)
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE I’LL NEVER WRITE THIS BOOK
- PREFACE YAYAYAYA!
- INTRODUCTION OKAY, I’LL WRITE THIS BOOK
- CHAPTER 1 MY MULTIDIMENSIONAL BIRTH
- CHAPTER 2 LET’S SET A RECORD, BABY!
- CHAPTER 3 THE TWO-TIME
- CHAPTER 4 GROOMING WITH THE DOCTOR
- CHAPTER 5 ALL RIGHT, I’M BACK
- CHAPTER 6 THE DOC’S FIRST SPONSOR
- CHAPTER 7 THE SECOND TIME I DROVE A LAMBORGHINI (AND HOW YOU CAN DRIVE ONE TOO)
- CHAPTER 8 THE SECRET BEHIND WHAT, EXACTLY, I’M A DOCTOR OF
- CHAPTER 9 THE KUMITE EXCEPT FOR VIDEO GAMES AND ALSO IT’S REAL
- CHAPTER 10 THE ATHLETICISM—WOW!
- CHAPTER 11 THE KUMITE EXCEPT FOR VIDEO GAMES AND ALSO IT’S REAL
- CHAPTER 12 THE RIGHT FLIP PHONE FOR YOU
- CHAPTER 13 HOLLYWOOD DOMINATION—AND DOC’S DISILLUSIONMENT
- CHAPTER 14 WHAT I’M THE DOCTOR OF
- CHAPTER 15 THE END???
- EPILOGUE FROM THE DESK OF NIGEL P. FARNSWORTH III
- AFTERWORD DID YOU REALLY THINK I’D GIVE THAT PUNK EDITOR THE LAST WORD IN MY BOOK???
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A big, booming voice echoed throughout the arena as the hands—or the one hand and the one Xbox controller—rose into the air.
“I wish to welcome you all—esteemed members of the Brotherhood, honored guests, cutthroat violent gangsters, and of course our handpicked elite gaming champions from across the globe—to this, the one thousand two hundred seventieth annual KEFVGAAIR!”
The crowd started chanting immediately.
“KEFVGAAIR! KEFVGAAIR! KEFVGAAIR!”
TBH, it sounded a lot like the Kumite chant in Bloodsport, except with a different word that was more awkward to pronounce.
“Every year for centuries,” Hannn boomed, “the Brotherhood has gathered here, in this nondescript, absolutely top secret, and totally secure warehouse, to choose the world’s greatest living gamer! The level of competition here is unparalleled, the violence is unmatched. The skill and dominance that this tournament has witnessed over the millennia—nothing can compare!”
“KEFVGAAIR! KEFVGAAIR! KEFVGAAIR!”
“And yet I, Lord Hannn, truly believe that the competition with us here today is the greatest we’ve ever had before. And I do not just say that every single year. Unless I really mean it. Which I always do.”
“KEFVGAAIR! KEFVGAAIR! KEFVGAAIR!”
“Now I shall introduce the very best of this year’s warriors, taking special care to sincerely respect and appreciate the cultural heritage of each of our international friends.
“With us from Sydney, the top gamer from the Land Down Under, Kangaroo Jack!” This big-ass spotlight shined onto this dude with sunburned skin, a leather hat, and a crocodile-teeth necklace, who, to the surprise of no one, looked exactly like Crocodile Dundee.
“KANG-A-ROO! KANG-A-ROO! KANG-A-ROO!”
Kangaroo Jack looked royally pissed. “Hey!” he shouted. “No one calls me ‘Kangaroo Jack,’ all right?? My name is Jack Hortly. None of this shit I’m wearing even belongs to me, they just fucking made me wear it. I’ve never killed a crocodile, I’ve never put a ‘shrimp on the barbie,’ and I don’t say things like ‘G’day, mate!’ or ‘That’s not a knife, that’s a knife!’ I’m just a normal dude from Australia who loves playing video games.”
The crowd went silent for a second.
“KANG-A-ROO! KANG-A-ROO! KANG-A-ROO!”
The spotlight shifted to the dude in the babushka. He was pale, massive, looked a ton like Drago from Rocky IV, and was dressed in a red boxing robe emblazoned with a hammer and sickle.
“With us from the heart of Siberia,” Hannn announced, “winner of the 1999 Mother Russia Gaming Championship, Killer Commie Ivan!”
“KIL-LER COM-MIE! KIL-LER COM-MIE!”
“Hi, guys,” Ivan said, raising his hand shyly. “Big fan of free markets actually.”
“KIL-LER COM-MIE! KIL-LER COM-MIE!”
Hannn raised his controller-hand and pointed at the next competitor.
“And from Beijing, Mr. Miyagi Min-Zhong!”
“MI-YA-GI! MI-YA-GI! MI-YA-GI!”
A dude in a ninja outfit holding a folding fan, a carp streamer, and a paper umbrella stomped on the ground in fury.
“Seriously, people?? I’m from Beijing! Mr. Miyagi is Okinawan! This is the stupidest—”