• ----Chapter One----

    I Apologize in Advance


    I don’t suppose you’ve ever had to go to a seemingly-mutated rainforest filled with those black pudding things in Dungeons and Dragons splurshing around while you have to find a staff of holey socks. And I don’t suppose you have ever had to defeat a punkin’ beast and have to rip out its left eyeball for a sorcerer named Bob. And, well, I’m pretty sure you’ve never saved the world before. Unless you were high, anyway.
    But I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself. Usually people introduce themselves and start off normal before ranting on about things like this that I believe cannot be categorized. So instead of immediately shutting that book of yours, allow me to start over.
    My name is Tory Canada. Don’t start making jokes though, I’m not from Canada. I do have some Canadian blood in me, but I wasn’t born there or anything. Not that being born there is a bad thing, I mean. They do have maple sugar candy, and Celine Dion. If you’re interested in that stuff anyways. My point being, Canada or being called a Canadian isn’t an insult. At least, I don’t find it an insult. I’m not really prejudiced. I mean I know lots of prejudiced jokes and most of them are funny, but I don’t necessarily look at them in a negative way. All races have their properties to make fun of. I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry, I tend to do that.
    Anyway, back to the subject. What was I talking about again? Canada? No… Oh right I was introducing myself. I’m Tory Canada. I’m a girl of 15 years, and I live in Hudson, NH. I suppose I shouldn’t be giving this information out freely, but then again I am just a story character. Don’t go telling everyone here that though, some people don’t have the ability to break the fourth wall. That’s kinda like my superhero power, like Deadpool. I have a friend with a weird ability too. He can’t break the fourth wall, but he has a magic satchel. He pulls things out of nowhere constantly. He’s like Mary Poppins with an invisible bag. Don’t worry, you’ll get to meet him later. Obviously you can’t be personally introduced since I’m like the only one I know that can break the fourth wall, and I don’t really like talking about it. Obviously people without the ability would see me as strange if I started introducing them to the sky. Did you ever think people with imaginary friends, or people with voices in their heads, were actually people who have the ability to break the fourth wall, and you’re actually in like a book or a comic or something? It’s an interesting thought. I’m rambling again, aren’t I?
    So anyways, if you’re blind and this book has been made for blind people, or someone is reading it to you and you’re blind, or something, I’ll tell you about my appearance. I’m 4’ 10”, I know I’m short, and 78 lbs. I’m not anorexic, I just don’t seem to gain weight. Anyway, I have medium-length, raven-black hair with my bangs covering one eye like an emo person. I’m not really emo, I just like the hair. I mean I can be emo sometimes, but most of the time I’m just too happy to be emo. And I don’t cut. I don’t really see the appeal. I mean I know why some people do it but I don’t think I could ever be down enough to do it. I mean we all have our emo moments, but I’ve never been tempted by that switch blade my uncle Sam gave me when I was three for some strange thought process that three-year-olds should have switch blades. Gosh I really have to stop this rambling habit…
    My skin color is a nice, deep tan that I’m very proud of, and my eyes are bright blue. Like, sky/aqua blue. I think they’re pretty… I often get commented on them. I usually wear darker colors; black, dark blue, dark green, dark purple, blood red, and so on. I also often get commented on my very interesting clothing choices. But I suppose if I get into that I’ll start rambling again and we both don’t want that.
    Well after all that torture I’m sorry I put you through, I think I’ll start my story now. How do you think I should start it? I could start ‘Once upon a time…’, but, well, that sounds too Disney for me. Or I could be like Star Wars and start ‘In a land, far, far away…’, but that wouldn’t really work if you lived in Hudson too… Or like, Nashua. Or somewhere in NH. Or pretty much in the U.S., or Canada. Y’know? Unless you don’t have a car and you walk like an old fat lady with bad knees and it took you hours just to get across the street. Then I suppose it could be far, far away. But anyways, I guess I’ll just start like this:

    I can’t say I didn’t want to kill Tim Berners-Lee for ever inventing Wikipedia when I found out the 8th book of Charlie Bone wasn’t really out today. They said it was supposed to come out in September, but they lied. I decided I would go check the actual website once I got home. Oh well, life lives on. Or, the world lives on. Or life goes on… I think that’s it.
    Anyway, I was wearing my red t-shirt with the black guitar design on the front, black skinny jeans, a silver studded belt, and my zebra converse. I was walking, irritated, back through Barnes & Noble to leave the place when some weird guy with an obviously fake moustache and a big, black cloak stopped me. Well, okay he didn’t really stop me. I saw him sitting there in the Starbucks eating a strawberry Danish with a spork. I had thought his moustache was real until it fell off when he tried to wipe the crumbs and strawberry juice off his face. I stood there with an eyebrow raised. I couldn’t help but stare. Then he caught me staring so I looked away and, whistling, started on my way again. Unfortunately he got up, leaving his mess behind, and followed me. I could tell he was following me. He was making it pretty obvious. I mean, he was shouting “Hey! You! Little black-haired chick, stop!” Aren’t guys in big black cloaks supposed to be better stalkers? I mean c’mon, they’re not supposed to make it obvious that their following you. So I sighed and turned around, deciding to use that trick in the movies where they’re all cool and know that the person is stalking them, and like, scare the stalker because the stalker didn’t know that they knew they were stalking them and the victim turning around like they obviously knew they were stalking them but didn‘t make it apparent at first so they kinda startle them. Hm, I guess that sentence was rather confusing… You’ll live though. Unless you have cancer. Well, you might survive that but if you die from it I suppose you won’t live.
    Anyways, so I turned around and put my hands on my hips and looked up at him. I suddenly realized he was extremely tall and I was extremely short. I felt like a little girl getting a popsicle from the ice cream man. Only the ice cream man is a guy in a black cloak with a fake mustache that’s sort of falling off with little bits of crumbs and strawberry juice. He fixed me with a black-eyed gaze. But I decided to continue being like the hero in the movie and gazed back in his eyes sort of defiantly and evenly, y’know? But after like, five minutes of awkwardly staring in each other’s eyes I started getting bored so I said, “What?”
    The man shook his head, “Oh, right. I’m supposed to talk now… Ahem.” He put on a big, booming persona of a voice, that I thought was highly unacceptable for a book store where people are concentrating on reading, and said, “I have been following you, Cory Mexico-”
    “It’s Tory Canada.” I corrected kindly.
    “Whatever. I have been chosen by the great and all powerful… Well okay I don’t know his name but he sent me a black video tape telling me what to do, he sent me this cool disguise too, but that’s besides the point. The point is, Lorry Africa-”
    “Tory Canada.”
    “-you have been chosen to receive a special mission. You will find all the answers you need in here…” He handed me a kind of large, yet flat, book.
    “‘If you give a mouse a cookie’…?” I didn’t really see that as a kind of mission-giving kind of book. Usually it was some cool-looking weathered book with a red-ribbon bookmark that looks like something a wizard would read, or something.
    “Oh, that’s just the disguise cover.” The man flipped it upside down, and turned it around. There was the real front cover.
    “‘How to save the world’? Still expected something a little cooler…” I said, still rather disappointed.
    “Yes, well, the look of the book isn’t really the most important-”
    I giggled, “You rhymed.” He looked at me like I was the last person on earth that should be saving the world, so I coughed and said, “Sorry, ADD.”
    The man sighed and gave that look adults always give when they’re about to go take some Ibuprofen, or something that gets rid of headaches. “Anyways… All that you need to know will be revealed inside the book.” So I, like a little kid opening a present her gigi (that’s what I call my grandma, don’t judge me) brought for her when she came up to visit, opened the front cover excitedly. I tilted my head when I saw it was blank and I looked up at the man in puzzlement.
    He shrugged, “The video tape guy said the words will appear when its time, so maybe they’ll appear tomorrow or something. That’s all I know. And honestly I can’t wait to get this cloak off, its kinda hot in here.” With that, he tipped his cool cowboy-like hat that I probably forgot to mention he was wearing, turned around, his cloak billowing in the air he picked up, and began marching the other way. I watched, mesmerized by the amazing, billowing black cloak, until he disappeared. Well, okay I had kinda started staring off at nothing in his direction so it sort of looked like I was mesmerized by it. Unfortunately when I do that my right eye starts tilting the other way, y’know, cockeyed, so I probably looked kinda stupid.
    Anyway, after I shook my head off, not literally, just to shake off the lala-land gaze I had, and looked down at the book. I opened and closed it several times and flipped through all the pages. Still nothing. I shrugged and decided I’d just have to wait. So I stuffed the book in my bag and started towards the door. Unfortunately someone saw me do that and thought I was stealing, so I kinda got tackled by some security guards and had to explain my situation, leaving out the whole ‘special mission saving the world thing’, but don’t worry, I made it.

    When I got back home, being escorted in a police vehicle which I thought was completely unnecessary, my mom immediately started asking about the whole police thing, so I told her the truth which shut her up because usually when I tell the truth it’s kind of weird so she thinks I’m just weird and using my imagination too much. So I started upstairs with my cool rainbow-checkered shoulder bag, I guess I forgot to mention what it looked like before, slung over my shoulder and opened the door to my room.
    I took the book out of my bag and set it down on my desk. My desk was black painted wood by the way, and I personally think its really cool. Especially topped off by my black spinny-chair. Spinny-chairs are the best chair, next to the bean bag, you have to admit. Anyway, so I opened the book again on my desk. I did what I did last time at the book store, only this time I flipped it around and upside down several times. Then I held it up to the light to see if there was invisible writing. Even though nothing was there, I wasn’t discouraged. I took some cinnamon, don’t ask what that was doing in my room, and sprinkled it over some pages. Still no dice. No words either. I decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to try lemon juice, in case words did appear later and they couldn’t appear on lemon-stained paper for some reason. Oh well. I decided I’d wait until tomorrow and ask my good friend Jack Lluks, the guy with the magic satchel, about it. He might have some idea. And he’d probably believe the whole story too. He doesn’t believe most crazy stories; only mine. I suppose that should make me feel special. I mean I know I am special, my mom and all my teachers tell me so, and several other people I’ve spoken with, plus I have the whole ability to break the fourth wall, so yah I guess I am pretty special.
    Sorry, I have a habit of rambling.