I don’t know who coined the phrase “Watch that first step”, but I want to kick him in the balls. Some condescending yukkity-yuk with a pencil moustache and a shit-ass degree in kinesiology from fuck-knows university.

What I’m trying to say is, about three steps out of the chamber with the somehow-beating heart, I tripped and skinned my knee.

“Fucking women.” I cursed out loud. Then I got up and tripped again.

Wait a minute…

I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before, but my legs were definitely shorter than I was used to. And my arms… my thicc, joocy arms… I gazed in horror upon my flat, pathetic biceps, nonexistent triceps, and slender, girly forearms.

I know that muscles atrophy when you don’t use them, but this is… how many DECADES was I hanging out for?

A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma…

The tunnel was a short passageway that quickly led to a vast cavern. I walked out onto a ledge the size of a city block that hung off the wall of the cavern, protruding into an endless void. In the center of the ledge stood a colossal stone statue of a hooded figure standing in stoic prayer. I craned my neck, but the face was too high up for me to get a good look. I took a lap around the base of the statue but couldn’t find an inscription.

I christen thee: Big Boi

When I was a kid, before I learned what kind of shit goes down on April 1st, one of my friends told me that the Statue of Liberty was secretly a robot. I still believed in Santa Claus at the time, so it didn’t sound that farfetched. After all, why would you build something shaped like a human if you didn’t intend for it to move as a human? “Form ever follows function”, as my seven-year-old brain rationalized. Then we spent the next hour arguing about whether the Statue of Liberty or the Abraham Lincoln Memorial would win in a fight. Answer: obviously Lincoln because girls can’t punch. Our teacher told us to sit down and shut up, and that the Statue of Liberty would easily win because it was five times the height of the Lincoln memorial. Yes Bradley, even if he stood up.

I couldn’t see exactly how tall Big Boi was, but I bet he could’ve gone a few rounds with Lady Liberty, even at a size disadvantage. The sculptor had done a great job of capturing the massive fucking beaters this dude was packing under his cloak. I knew a few guys who looked like that at my gym, and you couldn’t pay them to put a shirt on, especially a hooded cloak. Especially if you were carving a statue of them. They would want every goddamn vein rendered accurately, so that generations of thotties would know exactly what they missed out on: A perfectly chiseled physique.

I hyuk’ed and slapped my knee. Enviously.

The statue was facing a long, thin bridge of rock that stretched away from the ledge and into the great unknown. I approached the bridge cautiously and looked back at the statue.

You wouldn't lie to me, would you Big Boi?

I took a few hesitant steps. It seemed sturdy enough.

Fuck it.

I stomped across the bridge like a magnitude-four dumbass.

It led to a small platform with a tunnel. There was a rough linen sack shoved to the side, and just above it a note attached to the tunnel wall. I read the messy scrawl:

Take the key!

Huh. So that's what the handwriting of a sexually deviant serial killer looks like.

I checked my pockets. Oh, wait. My kinky love belt didn't have any pockets.

Fucking WOMEN.

I stomped all the way back across the bridge, flipping off the statue as I went.

You liar.

Then I noticed something that I had missed before: There were multiple tunnel entrances spaced around the ledge. The heart-chamber that I’d woken up in was on the far-left side of the ledge, but as I panned my torch around I could faintly see three more tunnels. I entered one of them, and quickly found my way into another small chamber, with another crude altar. No sexual paraphernalia, no creepy heart, just an empty chamber. The other two tunnels led to similar empty chambers.

Guess Mr. Serial Killer doesn’t live down here…

I made it back to my heart-chamber and picked up the key. It was the same dark purple metal as my shackles, with an ornate design on the head. It looked pretty valuable. I picked it up and retraced my progress.

The sack contained several loaves of bread, sticks of dried mystery meat, and a flask of water. Whoever left this for me must not have been here very recently; the bread was completely stale, though I didn't see any mold. I took a bite of the meat cautiously.

Yep, definitely a mystery. I hope this isn't raccoon.

Then again, how much can I trust a person who hung me upside-down in a cave anyway?

My stomach churned rebelliously at that thought, but it grudgingly accepted the meat.

The sack also contained a dagger and a few coins. What the sack did not contain: clothes. I groaned.

Hope I don’t get too many weird looks... maybe this tunnel leads to a rave?

I began to climb the long, straight flight of stairs carved into the tunnel.

No fighting on the stairs.

My mom’s words floated into my head without warning. I was always getting into scuffles with my brother when we were young, and my mom knew she was powerless to stop it. But she could mitigate the injuries. My brother and I were happy to comply. It made sense, and still gave us the necessary freedom to beat the shit out of each other. Smart woman.

Unfortunately, a lot of helicopter parents would have tried to make their kids stop fighting altogether. They would have sat the little monsters down, and tried to negotiate a compromise, or force empathy, or some other limp-wristed bullshit. The playful spirit of the children would be squashed under the authoritarian mandate for peace. Then these kids would grow up without understanding conflict, only fearing it, and elect a helicopter government to replace their helicopter parents, and then………

Right as I was approaching the crux of my aneurysm, and my amygdala was about to hategasm, the end of the tunnel came into view: golden light pouring from a pinhole in the distance.

My step quickened, and I burst out of the cave, only to be met with a completely unfamiliar landscape. The entrance of the cave was near the crest of a small hill, and from the top of the I could see more rolling hills in every direction, covered in trees. In summation: a whole lot of fuck-all.

Is this what Appalachia looks like? Upstate New York?

I couldn't remember. The trees were mostly deciduous, so I couldn't be too far north. Finally, I spotted what might be a road in the far distance, maybe a day's hike from here if I didn't get lost. It was way out there, so it could have just been a figment of my imagination, a hope-fuelled mirage, or one of those eye floaters. Oh well, it gave me a direction.

I was working in California before... something happened... I think... How far did that serial killer drag me, anyway? Only to let me escape?

The sun was on the verge of setting, so I decided to hang out in the cave for the night. That forest looked like it was full of mosquitos, and if there are any within a half-mile, they will find me. It goes beyond feeding, I swear those bugs harbor genuine feelings of malice towards me in their little hearts. I can sleep completely secured in a tent, doused in chemicals, and the skeeters will still find a way to eat me alive. A mosquito once sucked my blood until it exploded; I didn't know whether to be disgusted or impressed. Do I really taste that good? How the hell did humans ever survive on the same planet as these things anyway? We're soft, pink walking buffets. No fur, no scales, no nothing, just raw-dogging nature for thousands of years. We should have been dead after one night, not the conquerors of the earth.

I sat down on the hill and crunched into some bread. The sky went black after sun dipped below the horizon with an incredible display of reddish gold that I didn't realize the sun was capable of. The stars came out, and I looked for Orion, the only constellation I know, but gave up after awhile.

Must not be the right part of the season...

As the sky got darker and darker, more and more stars appeared; I could even begin to make out the arm of the Milky Way. I'm not into stargazing, but this was one hell of a spectacle. I saw several shooting stars in the span of an hour. Then another shooting star that got brighter... and brighter... and...

Oh shit

I ducked into the cave and peered out. It was falling close enough that I could tell it was a meteor, a ball of fire with a trail of smoke. But the fireball itself was surrounded by glowing pink circular... bands? It was close enough that I could hear it roar through the sky like an airplane, then land with a deafening BOOM, like a... crashing airplane... maybe a mile out from my hidey-hole.

I decided to check it out in the morning, and pushed the least-stale loaves of bread together inside the sack to function as a sad pillow. If the forest caught fire while I slept, it would just have to put itself out.

Goodnight, moon