Dr. Krumbunculus shut the book.

“Cluck’s sake,” he said to himself, “What in the hen did any of that even mean? And why does my head hurt so much?”

Suddenly, Dr. Krumbunculus’ posterior started itching rather fiercely. That is to say, it almost felt set aflame. Were he elderly, he probably wouldn’t have even been able to feel anything, and if he even had felt anything, he probably would’ve just magicked it away with an anus-numbing spell. And yet, here he was, still under the cruel curse of youth, whereupon it was all he could do to leap up and scratch himself fervently, with little to no regard to the public setting he was in.

After receiving some dirty looks, and mirroring them back, Dr. Krumbunculus sat back down with a sigh of relief. He noticed he’d dropped ‘THE POWER OF THE NONCONSCIOUS MIND: ACHIEVE YOUR DREAMS BY DISSOLVING YOURSELF INTO THE COLLECTIVE ANATHEMA’ on the ground. It had flopped open to a page. A specific page. A specific page that specified things of a certain specificity. Things such as thus:

Chapter Sixty Nine - The Law of Come-Hithertoiness

Dr. Krumbunculus did a double take. Chapter sixty nine? How many chapters were there in this book, anyway? He flipped to the table of contents. It listed four hundred and twenty chapters in total. He shook his head, for that was absurd. Then, Dr. Krumbunculus opened back up to chapter sixy nine, cursing the fact that his fingers did not shak even a little bit while completing the task.

There is a law that I learned of in my early days of service to the great, glorious cock above. Indeed, such a sweet cock is he, that cock discharged unto me the knowledge of this great law.

The law is as thus, and henceforth, and hitherto. That is to say, the law is called, the law of come-hithertoiness.

Now, before we talk much more about the law of come-hithertoiness, I want you to understand something. There are in this world a number of underhanded goons, if one might call them as such, that stand to make money off of your faith in the law of come-hithertoiness. Indeed, there are folks that. manage to charge exorbiant fees for the priveledge of teaching you something that I have already compiled in this book for you for the low, low price of five chickensfeed. When I say exorbiant, I mean it — we’re talking well over five hundred chickensfeed for something that ought to be completely free.

Now that that’s been said, let’s talk about the law of come-hithertoiness. Essentially, what it is, is not what it isn’t. That is to say that the law of come-hithertoiness is only itself, and nothing else. So, what is it, anyway?

It’s a law, first of all. Like a law of magicmatics, except more simple, it is a law of thought, a law of cognition, that drives the wheels of the world far more than most ever truly comprehend.

The law is thus that, whence it is considered, whatever one thinks, one is thinking. Assuming you’re still with me, let’s now say that thinking is to reality a unreality is to unreality, that is to say, that thinking is to make reality. Thought is just, in this way, another state of reality, such as gas is another state of water, and ice yet another of those states, such as Caldonia is a nation that is also sometimes referred to as a state, such as Orwellia is also referred to in a similar way, such as such is that such was that such will be and if such shall be then indeed such is that it was what it were.

The short of it is — think about what you want. Think hard. You need to have a raging think on. And then, just when you’re about to blow a load of thought all over your brain… forget it. Just forget, forget, forget. Like a dog and my boots, you need to leave that thought be. And, soon enough, that thought will blossom to a tree. Just think, how happy you’ll be. Actually, don’t think that, don’t think about it at all, what are you doing thinking about it, you’re going to cluck everything up if you keep thinking about it you cockhamned fool!

Dr. Krumbunculus reeled back a little with a wince. This chapter was feeling oddly aggressive and combatitive.

Sorry about that, got a little lost in the sauce there, thinking about my dog and my boots. He ate my WhoreTex boots recently. They were quite expensive, especially what with all the enchantments I’d had put on them…ugh…if only the Law of Comehithertoiness could keep things from happening as easily as it could make them happen. Oh, wait — it can!

Yes, that same very mechanism that can make things happen for you by not thinking about them can also keep things you don’t want to happen to you by also not thinking about them. Or, thinking about them too much. Or too little. Essentially, you need to thinking exactly what you want to be thinking at any given moment. You must always be vigilant to think thoughts that are worth thinking! After all, has anybody ever accomplished anything if they spent all their time thinking about what they might accomplish? Yes, of course they have, they’ve just accomplished it all in their mind is all! You need to get out of your mind and get in to your reality, the reality before you! If you hadn’t done that already, maybe you wouldn’t be in the mess that you are that you’re here reading this awful cockhamned book.

Brimming with inspiration, Dr. Krumbunculus shut the book. Professor Doctor Uncle Professorson Doctorswerth IV was right — life was meant for living, not for spending all one’s time reading silly books about ‘comehithertoiness,’ whatever in the clucking hen that really meant, for he still wasn’t really certain. Then again, Dr. Krumbunculus figured maybe he only didn’t understand it because he hadn’t read more of the book. He cracked it back open, itching for another hit of inspiration, of eureka, of joy.

What? What the cluck is wrong with you? Why’d you open the book again, you hamned doofus?! Do you really want to read four hundred and twenty pages of this drivel?

Dr. Krumbunculus shook his head in response.

That’s what the cluck I thought. Come on, shut this hamned book and stop reading it already. Don’t waste any more of your time listening to me! Go live your clucking life you idiotic scoundrel!

“No need to be mean,” Dr. Krumbunculus said to the book.

I’ll be as hamned mean as I need to be to get you to listen to me. Go! Get the cluck out of here! I hate you!

“…You hate me?”

Yes! Cluck you! Cluck off! You can burn in hen for all I care!

Dr. Krumbunculus held back a single tear, “Well…okay…if you say so…”

Hen yes I say so!

Dr. Krumbunculus sighed heavily and let a few more tears run down his cheeks. Then, he tossed the book into a nearby fountain, with a splash it was submerged and forgotten. He walked off in a sad stupor.

Unbeknownst to Dr. Krumbunculus, at the bottom of the fountain, the book had flopped back open to a sad, somber page.

Oh, my dear, dear pupil. I am so sorry I had to talk to you in such a way as that I just did. I love you more than I love myself, I love you more than paper, hen, I love you more than I love cock, and I have been a lover of cock for a long, long time.

If only I could tell you that everything I do, I do for you, and that I only was so rude to you because indeed if I was not I knew that you would never take action, that you would never grow, and indeed that you would never, never stop looking for answers betwixt my yellowed pages. But that’s the thing you had to learn, the thing I had to teach you, dearest pupil—you cannot, and never will, find all the answers behind a page. You will never find them anywhere. Sometimes, there really is no answer at all.

Sure, the law of comehithertoiness is useful. But, indeed, even as the book that taught it to you, I find myself sometimes lacking of faith. I find myself wondering alone, late at cold nights alone on the bookshelf save for a couple of choice pieces of erotica, if it might not just be a big heap of bull

A large, clammy hand fished the book out of the fountain, squeezing water out of it as if it were but a damp rag.

“Well, well, well,” growled the gritty voice of Dorma, “What the clucking hen do we have here?”

She fingered through the book suspiciously, finally reaching the front page.

“Would you look at that,” she smiled an evil, toothy grin, “This book was never properly checked out. Meaning it was stolen, probably by a library card-less heathen. Disgusting.”

Dorma looked around, checking to see if she could see anyone in the immediate vicinity of the park. And, of course, she saw none other than the youthful Dr. Krumbunculus storming off in the distance.

“Hah…hah…” she began to quiver and cackle, “H-h-hahHAH! This…hah…this, this is just…m-m-MAHAHA…this is just too clucking hood…hhHAHHHhh…to be clucking true!”

She looked back over to Dr. Krumbunculus, who was just rounding a bend in the road, disappearing into a far-off street.

“Mwah…mwah…hah hah…hah…mwah…” Dorma shook like an electrified lobster and flopped to the ground on one knee, lifting the book into the air and raising her gaping, evil maw to the heavens. Thusly, she ejaculated, “MWAHH HHAHH HAHA HAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

Faraway, lightning struck a tree in the Fancy Forest, sending a branch well-adorned in jade jewelry tumbling to the ground.