The Fictional NonFictionizer

Two dim-witted chums create a gadget that can make real the unreal

“Get in here, dude,” a voice called out from somewhere in the second bedroom of the two-bedroom apartment. Glen Stevens, bored with that particular episode of Knight Rider got up from the sofa without too much fuss. Somewhere in the back of his mind his subconscious warned him that this was another ruse perpetrated by his roommate to trick him into looking at his junk, so, in punishment, his roommate could call him gay and punch him. A classic bait and switch…or something.

This didn’t quite sound like that, though. Glen had lived with Brody for nearly two years and he had become quite accustomed to his roommate’s tones. There was his I’ve-gotta-s**t tone. His give-me-a-f*****g-break tone. His hey-man-come-in-here-so-you-can-look-at-my-dick-so-i-can-punch-you tone. And Glen’s personal favorite, Brody’s sarcastic-because-I-think-I-know-more-than-you-but-I’m-compensating-because-I-really-know-less tone. Glen had never heard this particular tone before. It was hurried, excited, and amused all in one.

He entered Brody’s room with bemusement. It was a typical single man in his twenties room. Posters of half naked women line the walls and clothes that could either be clean or dirty scattered about on the floor. Brody’s boom box CD player was thrashing out a Slayer song that sounded almost exactly like every other Slayer song, hard, fast, and bitchin’. Brody was sitting on his tinkering on what appeared to be a miniature old-timey cannon modified with Super Soaker tanks and heating coils. Glen knew Brody was into steampunk cosplay so he figured whatever the object was had something to do with the upcoming Decatur Steampunk Convention that was being held at the Civic Center in two weeks’ time.

“I f*****g did it, dude,” Brody exclaimed, setting down the screw driver and picking up the cannon. “I’m a f*****g genius. F**k you, Mr. Futrell, for doubting my scientific prowess. Eat s**t, you old b*****d.”

“What are you babbling about?” Glen asked, chuckling a little. Brody could get in his moods, but it was always fun to see him obtain vindication.

Brody motioned to the device he was holding. Glen could see a massive dial on one side that he’d missed before as it was turned away from him. “This,” Brody insisted.

“And what is that?” asked Glen, taking the bait.

“I call it the Fictional Non-Fictionizer,” Brody said with self-inspired awe.

“That’s a terrible name,” Glen said off-handedly, then he looked at Brody askance. “What does it do?”

Brody stood up from the bed and crossed the room. He grabbed a Where’s Waldo book and held it out to Glen. “Pick a page and hold it open for me.”

Glen thumbed through the book and selected a random page. He opened it wide and held it out in Brody’s direction. Brody was, in turn, fiddling with the dial on his Fictional Non-Fictionizer, muttering quietly to himself. Brody, satisfied with his tinkering, pointed the device directly at Glen and the book. Maybe it was just him, or maybe it was the very real now that he looked at it cannon being pointed directly at him, but Glen was suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of regret for playing along with Brody’s whim.

“3…2…1…” Barry counted down. After one, he pushed a button on the butt of the cannon.

At first, nothing happened. Glen was about to breathe a sigh of relief when a faint hum started building. It was low at first but gradually got louder, more intense. Soon it was deafening, but before Glen was certain his ear drums would rupture, a blinding stream of blue light erupted out from the mouth of the cannon. It looked like a vaporous version of blueberry Jell-O. Glen was tempted to take his hand off the book and touch the beam, but thought better of it at the last second.

Just as suddenly as the beam appeared, it disappeared, leaving spots bursting in Glen’s vision.

“Now just a quick adjustment,” Brody muttered to himself. He turned one of the dials on the cannon and pointed the device at his bed. He pressed the button on the butt of the device again. This time it emitted the same kind of humming sound only in reverse. The beam erupted from the end of the cannon again, but it shone green instead of blue. On Brody’s bed a figure was materializing out of the green glow. A pair of brown shoes appeared first, followed by a pair of sky blue slacks, and then a red and white striped long sleeve shirt. Finally, a dorky looking face sat upon the red and white shoulders. A pair of thick framed hipster glasses hung crookedly on the man’s ears and a few tufts of brown hair jutted out from beneath a stocking cap that matched his shirt.

“Holy s**t,” Glen said breathlessly. “It’s Waldo.”

Brody laughed maniacally like the mad scientist he apparently was.

Waldo stood up from the bed and look at Brody and Glen suspiciously.

“Who the hell are you guys?” he demanded.

“I’m Brody,” said Brody, pointing to himself and then to me, “and this is Glen.”

“Cool,” Waldo said placidly. “You guys got anything to drink?”

“There’re some beers in the fridge, I think,” answered Glen.

Waldo left the room without another word, leaving Glen and Brody alone.

“How the hell did you do that?” asked Glen in awe.

Barry tapped his temple and gave his roommate a sly look. “It’s all up here, buddy. All up here.”

Barry scurried out of the room, and Glen followed closely behind. Brody stopped in front of the television and looked at it greedily. He immediately started adjusting the dials.

“What are you doing,” Glen asked excitedly.

“I’m going to get me some KITT action,” answered Brody immediately.

The blue light blasted from the cannon into the television. After it stopped, Brody moved to the window of the apartment, tinkering with the dials as he went. He threw open the window and leaned out, point the device into an empty spot in the parking lot. Green light flashed and KITT from Knight Rider appeared in the spot a moment later, completely with flashing lights and high-tech out-of-date technology.

Waldo came to the window and looked out at the new addition to the parking lot while he sipped his beer.

He belched loudly before saying, “Sweet ride. Who wants to go cruising for chicks?”

Brody stopped for a moment. “Picking up chicks with Waldo in KITT from Knight Rider? Um…yes, please.”

Brody tossed the device onto the couch where it plunked down roughly, kicking dust into the air. He and Waldo walked to the door and then turned to Glen. “You in, hoser?” Waldo asked him.

“I just want to say something first,” said Glen. “I think this is one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I’m not convinced this isn’t a drug induced hallucination, but if it’s not, Brody you are a genius and you should given the Nobel Peace Prize or some s**t.”

Brody laughed. “Word.”

The unlikely trio left the apartment and walked down to the car that was impatiently awaiting them.

“Took you a******s long enough,” KITT said as they approached. “My gears are rusting.”

“I’m driving,” Brody said like a giddy school girl.

“Psh…” Waldo scoffed. “You couldn’t drive a blow up doll to the tip of your dick.”

“I don’t care who drives,” KITT added, “as long as it’s not Hasselhoff. That dude smells like patchouli and cheap hookers.”

Waldo walked to the driver side down and swung it open. “You homos getting in or what?” He climbed in the car, shut the door, and fired up the engine.

“Why do I get the feeling this is going to be the greatest day ever?” Brody wondered aloud as they walked to the passenger side door. They opened the door to find no backseat and a passenger seat that was only big enough for one person. After a quick game of rock, paper, scissors, Glen got in first and Brody sat on his lap.

“I probably should have thought this through a bit more,” Brody said as Waldo backed KITT out of the space.

“You probably should have shut the hell up,” Waldo answered him. “You two d****e bags better get ready to party Waldo style.”

Waldo shifted gears and stomped the pedal to the floor. The tires squealed momentarily before rocketing through the parking lot and into traffic. Several cars swerved into each other to avoid a collision with KITT. They barreled down El Dorado street at breakneck speed into a night filled with limitless possibilities, liver damaging amounts of alcohol, and cheap, loose women.

Reviews

[Marie]

Good story, but I guess nobody knows quite what to say about it.