So, dude, if you’re reading this it means I didn’t make it home, and I probably won’t ever again. Don’t let that bum you out, because I’m totally ready for it. But whoa, don’t relax just yet, because there’s still a lot to do.
First thing: get out of the house. Don’t take your Xbox, you should only carry the things you really need and I will pimp-slap you from beyond if you try to haul that hunk of shit with you. Take my car. If someone asks for you to give them a ride—don’t. I don’t care what excuses you use, even if you don’t say anything and just peel out of there, let nobody but you inside that car.
Go to J street. Pick up my dry cleaning. That’s not part of it but it’s still important.
Now go to that bodega we got really good weed at that one time (not the Gentleman Astronaut, the White Widow.) Remember the dude with the milky eye? He’s got something in his freezer for you. Don’t let him try to pawn the orange-blackberry sherbet off on you, that’s been in there since last December. Take the bottle and put it in the glove compartment
Now drive up to 4371 Harstadt ave. and ring apartment #6. They’ll buzz you in. DON’T GO UP. Take the oldest newspaper off the pile in the front room—I think it’s March—and go back to the car. If there’s a homeless dude waiting by it, give it to him. If not then drive down to the park fountain and give him the paper, that picture of your sister, & exactly 95 cents in change. No pennies. He’ll give you a box. That won’t be the It, but you shouldn’t open it anyway.
Now drive down to E-dog’s and park out by the shed. Throw the box out as far as you can. Wait ten seconds. Someone will throw a rock at your head. Pick it up and look at it. If it’s a plain rock-looking rock you’re screwed, put your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye. But if it’s all pretty and got those bluey-purply veins running through it, you’re gold.
Get back in the car, drive home, and park on top of Epcott’s begonias. That’s not specifically part of it, I just don’t like that guy. Walk out as far as you can. You should hit a church before too long. That rock in your pocket? Kill a pigeon with it. It might take a couple of tries, but you’ll get it. Take that bird and pull its guts out. They should form a pattern like some guy’s face. He has It.
Okay, these next few steps are crucial. Find that guy. He should be at Briona’s party tonight. If you did everything right, you should get there just before he does. Hide somewhere and wait. And dude, I’m really sorry, but you have to kill him. He’ll beg for his life—believe me he will—but don’t worry, as loud as he gets no one can hear you. Do it quick and don’t worry about the mess, you’re past all that now. Take everything he has, keys, wallets, toothpick, EVERYTHING. Search his shoes just to be on the safe side.
Now look to your right. There should be a door where there wasn’t one before. Go through it. You should be in a vacant lot. If not, I’m sorry dude but you’re about to die a painful death and I did sleep with Mandy. If you are in the lot, there should be something indescribably horrible in front of you. Pay it no mind, you don’t bother him, he won’t bother you.
Go over to the little nest made out of old car parts and shit. There It is. Don’t look at it. Pick it up. Don’t look at it. Is it still breathing? If it is you need to scoop up one of the car batteries lying around and bash its brains in. Don’t worry, it’s easier the second time.
If you’re done, turn left and start walking. You should reach the top of a little hill before too long. Once your brain stops screaming you’ll see a bigger version of that thing, miles and miles high, leaking black ichor and making a sound like a thousand teeth in a glass jar. Don’t worry about those things coming towards you, if you act quickly they won’t get you. Uncap the bottle. Drink. I know what it smells like, but you have to do it.
After you finish you should feel a bolt of cold running through you, and it’ll start feeling like your guts are trying to jump out your asshole. Don’ panic, don’t worry, stay still, your skin will turn black but don’t pitch a bitch fit, stay in place.
Now comes the hard part… (highlight to read)
I’m sorry dude, I tried not to lie, but I guess I made you feel like you’d come out of this unscathed. You won’t. On the underbelly of that horror are a thousands pits, embedded in each of those pits up to their necks are people. I’ll be in one. You’ll be in another. And I’m sorry, so sorry you can’t even imagine, but you’ve trusted me this far and I want you to trust me for a little longer when I say this: the alternative was worse.