Jacob's Story

(anal-retentive note: this was written a while ago by teenagers, and the copy-editing is terrible. You have been warned.)

Welcome to Jacob’s Story Version 1.0a1! Jacob’s Story is a chronicle of a not-so-average teen. Through his eyes, you will live through (or die in) an usual part of his life. You could travel though time or perhaps go to homecoming with the girl of your dreams. This story demonstrates the use of Story Creator’s advanced features to make a fun and interesting story. To make it cool, it’s written in second person. On each page, click the button that reflects the choice you want to make. Continute like this until you die, reach the end of the story, or get bored. Click the button below to continue.

You are Jacob, the hero of this story. You’re a strange kid, who doesn't have the common sense one might hope for. You're not the most popular kid in school, but you get along with your small group of friends. Positioned on the lower rung of the social ladder, you tend to strive for things that are unobtainable, such as the affection of Candice, the girl of your dreams. Some feel she's a bit on the rude side, but that doesn't stop you from worshipping the ground (and the backs) she walks on.

Currently, your life has been pretty normal. You eagerly await Macworld Expo 20XX in New York, since your idol, Steven Jobs, will undoubtably be announcing some new, jawdropping product. You want to share your excitement, but your best friend Joseph has been sick for awhile. This is leaving you with a serious lack of friendship. With your parents acting more erratic than usual, and everyone in your world against you, life seem like it should for a normal teenage boy, but one has to wonder if something more sinister is going on behind one's back.

With a dumbfounded look on your face, one wonders why someone would want to track your "adventures", but we have high hopes for you. Now, on with the story.

It's another boring day at Eccentric High School in Idiosyncrasy, South Carolina.As the final bell rings, you exit your Science room into the maelstrom of the halls. You make your way to the door, but you are stopped by the sight of your true love, Candice. The crush you have on her could make Romeo and Juliet sick, but her beauty has that kind of power on you.

"Well, yes..." you exclaim, wondering what brought that on. "Well, not today, it seems." he says, with an slight air of rudeness in his voice. You look around and realize that one very important aspect of this scene is missing. The buses. They seem to have left while you were crying about Candice. You look off into the distance to see bus 21, your bus, turning the corner onto the road. You dash after it, hoping to catch it. The problem is, people don't go from zero to sixty in five point two. Then again, nether do buses, but that’s beside the point. This day is already a flop. As you race toward the corner, you are unaware of the stray branch lying idle on the sidewalk. As you come closer and closer to the curb, the branch comes closer as well. Suddenly you trip over it and fall into the street. Normally this is fine, but the problem is seniors. Seniors riding in their big, fancy cars, unaware of the dweeb sitting in the road. Ouch.

You have a new feeling of confidence in you today. This is it, you think. Today, I'm going ot actually talk to Candice. stroll up to Candice with an air of self-assurance, you give her a causal, “Hi Candice.” You've been practicing that phrase for well over two months now, and you're finally sure that it has been perfected.

Candice barely turns her head to respond. “Jacob, shut up and go away," she says "You’re too annoying."

You nearly hit yourself over the head for obviously screwing up a simple line. Heaven forbid that Candice is a genuinely mean human being. The fault must lie with you. "Oh," you murmur. "I'm so sor…"

Candice turns the full way around this time. The eye contact she makes causes you to all but faint. What she says next, though, causes you to all but cry. "Get out of my face now, Jacob. Not when you're done mumbling about some stupid computer thingy.”

The fact that she has made a relative response amazing to you. You've never gotten the courage to speak to her until today, and she already knows enough to draw a harsh conclusion about you. Candice turns away and walks towards the front door before you have a chance to apologize again. Needless to say, that didn’t go well.

You wuss out of the chase and head over to the bus lot. As it turns out, yours was one of those ones that was late, and you weren’t paying attention when they called them on the announcements. You hang out casually, trying not to get caught by the nosy teachers, and hop on when it shows up. You continue the bumpy annoying ride, and all you do is look out the window, because you don’t have any friends. You get off, step into your house, and announce to your mother that you kissed Candice today. “That’s nice, honey,” she responds.

Not wanting to end your first conversation on a bad note, you desperately catch up with Candice. Just as her hand hits the door handle, you put your hand on her shoulder. “Candice, really, I just want to…”

That ends it. She violently throws your hand off of her back. No sooner do you finish half of your sentence does she turn around, stare you square in the face, and shouts, “GO AWAY!” Everyone that's making there way out the building turns around and looks at you both. Candice quickly turns her head.

You can’t take the rejection anymore. The pain and pressure have finally caught up with you. The realization of the miserable life you live in has finally taken it's toll, and it isn't pretty. In the crowded hallway of teh school, you finally break down. Wimpering and tearing up, you fall to your knees, bringing the notice of a few passerbyers. You're wimpering turns into groans, as if your foot was caught in some bear (or nerd) trap. Your eyes water even more until they get to the point where you don't have the strength to hold them back. You slowly close your eyes and burst into tears. Your bawling causes a crowd to form. Peers and faculty can't held by to snicker at your pathetic display of emotion. The people crowding around turns into a mob of laughing fools, pointing their fingers squarely at you. The laughing swells to a orgy of roaring, but you don’t care.

This is the end. You're social status is definitely ruined now. You think about how you'll never escape this new reputation. You'll always be known as the kid who broke down in the hallway. Your new life as an official loser flashes before your eyes. Suddenly, Candice comes through the door. "Listen Jacob, I'm sorry. Now get up your moron."

Was that an apology, you wonder as you left your head to meet Candice. The shock of such words hits you sharply, but how will you react?

You head for your bus, and hop on just as it’s leaving. A close call, you think, and plop down in the front seat. As soon as the bus arrives at your house, you get off, bidding good-bye to the bus driver, who must be your best friend. You open the door to your house, and walk in. You hang your bookbag up, and head up to your room. From this point, there are a few things that could be fun to do. You suddenly get the greatest idea.

You step up from your kneeling position and, still in tears, grab hold of Candice. The comforting warmth that fills your body is enough to make you forget about the events of the last five minutes. Candice, on the other hand, doesn't see it this way. She takes the gesture in the wrong light and begins to scream. "Get off of me you pervert!" You quickly relase her from your hold. Candice begins slapping you like you stole money. from her. You can only that the mess you have made won't create a scene. You hope is definitely misplaced.

The assistant principal, Mr. Parks, is nearby. After watches in unobstructed view, he has already drawn a conclusion from the whole ordeal. Being out of earshot, he wasn't able to hear the harsh attack Candice made on you, the apology she gave, or the apologies you gave after she started to scream. Parks sees this as a clean cut case of sexual harassment on the young, innocent, and vunerable lady.

He walks behind you and takes you by the ear. "Jacob Baxter" he shouts "I'm shocked at your behavior. I wouldn't expect someone like you to be some oversexed flesh junkie. We'll see how your parents would like to deal with this reckless act." You try repeatedly to explain, but Mr. Parks doesn't want to hear your drug-induced excuses. Your parents are notified, and your father proceeds to beat you to death when you arrive home. Charges are not pressed against him.

You scream at Candice. “I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE NICE! Why are you so mean to me?” She looks as if she thinks you’re a psycho, and backs away. Suddenly, the assistant principal arrives and demands to know what’s going on.

“!@#$ you Candice!” you shout as you stand up and begin to run. You decide that getting on the bus would be the best alternative, so you head for the door. Looking back, you vaugely see the principal talking to Candice, and her pointing at you. Wiping the tears from your eyes, you turn out toward the bus lot. It clicks into your brain that there is a problem, but it takes awhile for it to occur to you. When it finally clicks, your jaw drops, and you say it out loud. “They’re gone.”

“I’m sorry sir!” you quickly blurt out. “It was my fault, really. I know I shouldn’t have yelled.” You sweat, hoping he’ll accept the answer. “I promise not to do it again?” You put on the ‘wonderful’ sheepish grin that your parents always fall for. “That’s all right.” he says. “Just don’t let it happen again.” You look around, and notice that Candice is nowhere to be seen. “Say, son, you aren’t riding home on the bus, are you?”

“She keeps making fun of me!” you say, bawling like a pathetic baby. “I can’t take it anymore! Make it stop, make HER stop! Waaaaahhhhhh!” You hope your neolithic nonsense will get to the man. “Is this true, young lady?” he asks. She steps back, and shakes her head. “Can you two just work out your differences? And especially you, you look like a moron bawling out in the middle of the hall like this.” He mutters to himself, “This is high school, not pre-school...” as he walks away with Candice. You feel yourself turning as red as a person who has decidied to try Tabasco sauce for the first time.

You take off running, as fast as your feet will carry you. Running, running, running, until you finally get off school property. Safe. Or is it? There are people running after you. You keep running. Taking a glance behind you, you notice that your pursuerers have stopped at the school property line. They must not be allowed to follow you out here. Now you’ve got some options.

A bit shocked, you hustle back into the school building, only to be intercepted by the principal, a security guard, and the assistant principal. Ooh. Not a good set of options.

You leave, and go up to your room. You turn on your Lime iMac™, and fire up Ambrosia Software’s Escape Velocity. You love this game. It’s your total fav. However, after playing for an hour and only being able to amass just under 200 credits, you give it a rest. You shut the iMac off, pissed off and unable to find any thing else productive to do. While in search of something that is a little less “barbant,” you come up with a great idea.

You fall to the ground, still sobbing audibly. Candice speaks up, and says, “Just leave him alone, he’ll be all right.” The Assistant Principal agrees, and leaves, along with Candice. You now look like an idiot, smack-dab in the middle of the hallway, in tears.

You bang your fist on the table as hard as you can, (Yow! It didn’t make that much of a bang, either!) and yell, "Listen, Mom, I would think you would want to hear a bit about your only son's day!" She turns around and tilts her head up.

"You might think you’re high and mighty at school with all your friends, but you’re home now, and your father and I are the boss! Do you understand, Jacob!?" You gaze in utter amazement of your mother's alienation of you.

"Look Mom, I don't really have any friends, just Joseph," you say in a low, hurt voice. "Oh, I see," she says, realizing what she has done. You walk slowly up the stairs, and into you room. After walking in circles for what seemed like an hour, you decide on what to do.

You go to your Lime iMac™ and press the switch. After it begins to flicker and fuse, you lose control. On edge from the whole day, you hit the computer with a swift back hand. The computer does something strange. Very strange. In fact, you’re not quite sure whether or not you want to stick around for it.

The not-so-wonderfully Lime iMac™ spews out a green beam of light that sucks you in. Or, what seems like in anyway. You get smaller and smaller, and the room gets bigger and bigger. Suddenly, you’re lifted off the ground, and you find yourself hovering closer and closer to the gaping black hole that is the microphone. Once inside, you fall through a dark twisting, technical tunnel until you hit what seems like the ground. When you wake up, you’re in a weird sort of control room.

In your attempt to run away, you stand up, fall over the back of the swivel chair, trip over a baseball bat, and land face first on a Starcraft™ Zerg action figure. The set of events leaves you with a face even worse then the one you had before, and, we’re sorry to say, not a very strong heartbeat.

At your funeral, Candice walks up to your cold, dead corpse. "That's too bad,” she says, sorrowfully. “I was going to ask him to homecoming, but now it's too late." Your spirit repeatedly hits its head on the pearly gates.

You great idea is nothing but an urge to take a nap. You dive on to your bed and try to sleep. After that doesn’t work, you turn over and switch on the radio. After setting it to 93.6, oldies polka hits, you fall asleep quickly. After waking, you notice a figure standing next to your bed. It's Candice.

You turn away from the principal to look at the bus drop-off zone. Empty. Your bus, the one that was late, has come and gone. You throw your head back towards the principal and decide that you already look like a wuss and a loser, and you don't want to look like an idiot, too. "Um, no. Not at all. I mean, the buses are gone. That would be, um, stupid if I missed the bus." "Ok, that cool." he says, "Just as long as you have a ride." He walks away leaving you, alone in the school yard. You realize then, that since you were suppose to be riding the bus, you don't have a ride. Dang. You think for a few long moments, and realize that Candice’s home is nearby. In fact, you think you can see it off in the distance there. You can ask her to go there, or face Dad, and you don’t really want to do that.

Sure, this won’t be bad. Heh, yeah right. You go back into the school, and walk slowly and sullenly toward the office. Once you get there, you pull some money out of your well-stocked pocket, and place the call. Miraculously, your dad isn't quite as mad as you thought he would be. A few minutes later, you see him in the parking lot and walk across the street. Unfortunately, the senior in his car does not see you. Ow. I guess you did feel your father's wrath. Or was it your grandfather?

You figure something strange is going on. You back up, and put your hand on the door knob. “Everything is all right,” Mr. Parks says. “Just come with us and we can talk this out." You quickly turn the knob, twist around, and head out, running like crazy. You continue running, and are awed by the fact that they don’t seem to be chasing you. You continue out toward the street, and walk across it holding the hand of the nice lady that just so happened to be standing there.

You catch up with Candice right before she starts off for home. "Um, Candice?" you say, but you are quickly cut off by her "Listen, I thought I told you to leave me alone?!"

You look at her, smile and say, "Hello." She tells you that she tried to catch up with you, but you were gone. "I was wondering," she says, "would you like to go to homecoming with me?"

“What's for dinner?!" you ask, trying to get a response that you wouldn't really expect from a dead person. "Food. Ya happy?" she says. You sniffel.

"Actually, yes, I am, but I don't think you are!" Your mother turns her head and sends you to your room. You dad comes home and beats you to death for having a smart mouth before you can even say, “Temper, temper.”

"Oh, It's you," you say in a shunning voice. "What do you want?" "I just wanted to see you," she said, as if she didn't hear the hate in your voice. "I know about you. You don't know how many times you have hurt me." "I see. Well, I'm sorry I bothered you then. I'll leave you alone now."

She exits the room, never looking back. As she leaves, you realize your stupidity, and run after her, but she is already out the door. You sit down on your bed, and ponder what to do now.

You get up from the floor and start looking around. It is then that you notice a figure off in the distance, a man in a lab coat. You begin to approach the man, hoping to find some way out of here, but stop yourself.

You wait 'til after 10 to go back to school. You come silently up to the door. It's locked. You're confused as to what to do now. There's an open window at the side of the bulding, but there’s also a closed one, leading to the basement...

You jump up and catch the windowsill. You pull yourself up on top of the window ledge and gaze in. As you take in the surroundings, you don't pay attention and your hand slips, resulting in a nasty fall inward. You wake up strapped to a operating table, with a powerful light above and many people in lab coats staring down at you. You scream for help, but your mouth is covered with a piece of tape. Finally, they remove it.

You step out onto the road’s shoulder, and prepare to hitchhike. It suddenly occurs to you that you do not know how to hitchhike. So, in a best ditch effort, you think really hard. You remember something about sticking out a finger, and waving it around. Unfortunately, you can’t seem to remember what finger you are supposed to use. But, you take chances. As soon as you see an oncoming driver, you extend a finger and wave it around. Unfortunately, it was the wrong finger. The driver runs you over. Sorry.

You notice a Greyhound bus coming your direction, that appears to be slowing down. You wave your arms frantically, and to your utter joy, it stops. You hop on, and hand the driver $1.50. There aren’t any seats left, so you head toward the back and stand. The bus takes off practically before you can get a hold of the handle. You let go of it breifly once the bus gets going to get your wallet out -- check your cash -- but don’t realize that a car just swerved in front of the bus. Darn. Sucks to be you.

You decide to give up this horrible game of cat and mouse once and for all. You turn around, and head back onto school property, where your pursuers eagerly await you. Before you can get out a, “Hey, can we make a truce,” they’re on you. Literally. And, because you’re so weak, it hurts like hell. And, it hurts like hell for a reason. Your lungs just collapsed. Too bad you won’t be getting to a hospital any time soon.

"Mommy," you yell as you finally realize who is by the bed in front of you. "Did you let her in?" "Yes, she said it was important." she calls back. "OK," you shout as you turn your attention back to Candice. "So, why did you come here?" She looks at you and says, "I’ve got a problem, I was thinking maybe you could help. Can you?"

You approach the man in the lab coat and tap him on the shoulder. He turns around, and your heart skips a beat. It is none other then Steve Jobs, famous iCEO of Apple Computer! You look at him and lose all words. "Yes?" he says, but you are too dumbstruck to reply.

You turn on the iMac and begin to play Solitaire. It takes you about 500 games to realize that you suck, so you stop and try and think of other stuff to do, but you thoughts are clouded by the image of Candice. You don't know what to do.

You close you eyes and act like you didn't notice her. She looks at you, gets impatient, and slaps you in the face to get you going. You spring up and dart your head in her direction "Why'd you do that?" you say, a bit stunned. "I wanted you to get up, you sleep too long!" "Nodging me politely would have sufficed!!" "Sorry! Anyways, I came to ask you a question."

"Whatever," you say as you walk up the stairs to your room. You begin to wonder why Mom has been so rude and spiteful the past couple of days. She isn't normally like this. You come into your room and fall onto the bed, falling asleep quickly after. You cuddle up softly with your teddy bear in your sleep, the only one you share your dreams with. When you awaken, It's dinner time.

"No," you say, as steadily and firmly as you can, "I want you to listen! I just wanted to ask if I could stay at your house a bit. It's getting cold and I don't want to stay outside. My dad can pick me up there." She turns around and, calmer than usual, asks, "Why don't you just stay at the school?"

You decide to go down and take a small look at what's happening. You inch your way to the edge of the stairs and peek around the wall. You see your parents, and they seem to be fighting. "You are getting really short-tempered and rude." "Shut up!" "Calm down." "I won't!" You listen to this for quite a while, waiting for it to end.

"W-What do you want from me?" you manage to say. A man in a lab coat and mask comes up to you and says, "Don't worry, after the first needle, you won't care what is being done to you." He then begins to cackle and pulls out a foot-long needle! You begin to scream, and manuvuer away from the needle.

"Hey, wait" you say as the needle comes closer, "Um, don't you need to clean the skin first?" "He comes right up to your skin and stops, "You're right. I don't want the next victim to catch whatever it is that makes you such a dweeb." Man, that hurts! You fiddle around in you pocket while he prepares the washcloth and find a pocketknife.

You pull out the pocketknife and release the blade. Then, it occurs to you. How will you get your strapped down hand to the strap? You figure you can throw it up and hit the strap. With the flick of your wrist, you release the blade into the air, hoping it hits the strap. It didn't. Instead, it hits you arm. The screams outmatch those of the needle screams.

You don't have time to defend yourself from the needle, as you are screaming from the blade in your arm. The needle pirces your skin. Two sharp things in your arm is as much as you can take and you give out. The doctor stops, shrugs, and throws you down a chute labeled, "Failed Experiments." And so ends your life.

After recovering from the shock, you are able to release a simple yes to her question. "Great," she says, can't wait. See ya later!" She quickly heads out the door and on home. After do deduce that she is out of earshot, You yell at the top of you voice with joy. I guess every geek really does get his day.

"Sure," you say as she begins to wonder if this was a good idea, "Go ahead and shoot." She looks down at you, takes a deep breath and begins. "I was having trouble in Computer Literacy, and since your the Techno Geek, I was hoping you could help." My gosh. She is asking you for help. You wonder a bit and give her you answer.

You see this as the prefect time to get close to Candice, and you feel that she wants to get close to you. I mean, come on. Help, in Computer Literacy? That's a pretty weak reason for coming over. "OK," you say with a little smirk on your face. "Cool, I'll come over a 4:00 tommorrow, K?" "Alright. See you then." She walks out the door and on home and you begin to float on Cloud 9.

"Alright, I'm all ears," you say, after recovering from the hit on the head. "OK, there's this problem I'm having with, well your friend." "Joseph?" you say, as if you had any other friends besides him. "Yeah, that's the one. Anyway, well, I sort of like him." That's when your heart sinks pass your toes and straight to the fires of Hell. "I was wondering if you would ask him out for me."

You have had it. It's now or never, and it looks like it will be now. "Well, the thing is, I like you." Candice looks at you for a while, and after a brief, silent moment, begins to laugh. "Real funny, Jacob! You had me going!" She laughs for a while until she sees your face. "You are kidding, aren't you?"

You are so overjoyed that you begin to type up an e-mail telling your Starcraft buddies that you are going to Homecoming with the girl of your dreams. I was hoping you would realize the complete geekiness of doing so, but I guess I can't expect everything from you. After typing it up and sending it, you begin something else on the computer.

"Um, hello," you manage to say as you stare at the man of Apple. "Well," he says, adjusting his glasses and taking a drink of water, "you must be the lucky guy who got that iMac." "What iMac?" "There was one iMac Revision B sent out that had a special mechanism. This would cause the user to be transported here to help me when they hit the Apple insignia." You think back to the time of the incident and recall hitting the Lime iMac on the top, right on the Apple. "Well, what do you need help with?" you query, wondering what the great iCEO could possibly need. "Here's the thing, I need to test a new machine, but I can't do it." "Oh, is it the G5, iBook Rev B, WebMate?" "No, not a computer, though it is made by Apple. It's a time machine." You look at him, a bit miffed. "Will you do it?"

"I'll do it. I have been transported through a computer. Going through time shouldn't be any different." "OK," Steve says, taking another sip of water™, "follow me." You begin to walk through the twisted corridors of this elaborate installation. The place is composed of G4s™, Cinema Displays™, and iMacs™, in collabaration with metal, gears, hoses, and other crude, metal objects. "Where are we?" you ask, hoping for some comfort. "Right now, we are below the Apple Headquarters. We had this laboratory put in after the success of the iMac. After the money came in, it was easy to have this place put in so I could test out top secret technology to be intergrated in to the Apple™ computer." "But time travel?" "True, it does seem a little unconventional. When it's done, people will be about to view the past and future from the comfort of their own home without even disturbing the fabric of space/time. it will also put Apple at the top of the Home Computing world indefinetely." He looks at you and begins to start in the same direction again. After a bit more walking, you com to a liquid wall and a graphite and ice G4-esque console. "Here we are, look at this superb way to access the easy-to-use MacOS™ Time interface. This is your last chance to get out of it. Ready to go?"

"There's no way am I passing up this oppurtunity!" "OK, then. Click on your destination when you're ready." You stare at the console for a moment and say to yourself that this replaces the 700MHz G4 as your dream machine. You watch in awe as the delightful MacOS™ Time Splash Screen replaces the traditional Mac Face with a clock's face instead. Start-up is a breeze, and you are greeted with a window asking you the date, time, and location of your journey. You think for a while. You like to go to the distant past, somewhere in the near past, or far away in the future. You mind is boggled by all the possiblities. But you decide to think about the three regions of time first.

"I'm not sure if that's such a good idea. I mean, all the moral issues and all." "I see. Well, I didn't expect this to happen. How about you sit around for awhile and I will see about getting you home." You take a sit and think about this whole thing. An iMac, an iCEO, and a time machine. Suddenly, a monkey walks by you with a name tag on it. It says simply, "Cornelius." You look at it and say, "How cute, a lab monkey." You approach it, but remember that lab monkeys aren't always the safest things to approach.

You come up to the monkey and stroke its back. Bad move. after pulling your hand away, you feel an extreme sensation of hotness running through you and you collapse on the floor. You look down at yourself and feel an excuciating pain as your skin starts melting off. You spasam as all the muscles in your body tighten simultaneously. You hear the snap as your back breaks, and you let out one final shriek of terror. Finally, you pass away. Too bad that the words, "The Biological Weapon" had become hidden by his fur. Now that's some kind of way to die. Then again, that's how it seems to be with you.

You recall the time that you school went on a field trip to the zoo. You remember the monkeys throwing an unknown substances at you. It smelled, and it made you look like a fool. You decided that this is a prime time to get back at Cornelius's species. You search the floor for a good throwing object and come across a pencil on the floor. You pick it up, and aim at the monkey's head. Releasing it from your hands, you come to see the rest of the name tag, which reads, "The Psychologically-Unstable Monkey." You try to think of something to do, but it's too late, the monkey is already prepared to rip your heart out and consume it in one ostentatious bite. You begin to scream Steve's name, but he can't hear you, and the monkey approaches closer and closer. In one last attempt to save your life, you yell, "Hey! Look over there!" and point your arm in a random direction. The extended arm is more than an invitation for the monkey, and it rips it off. You begin to run through the lab and scream at the top of your lungs. You collapse to the concrete ground soon afterwards. Man, you die strangely.

Your common sense prevails and prevents you from getting close to the monkey. You look at it a while until Steve comes back. "I see you have met another experiment of mine. His name is ‘Cornelius the Bio-Weapon’, but I call him ‘Gates Doom.’" You stare at him with a questionable look. "You don't plan to use it on the Bill Gates for real, do you?" "Remember the MacWorld 2003 keynotes, when I said that it was time to rage war on Microsoft and Bill Gates?" "Yeah, but I thought you meant as in, oh, sales and specs and stuff." "Well, I meant that and more. I don't want to see Bill Gates have his evil, sinister way. I won't stand for this. I'm going to see him go down, and this little guy is going to do it for me." You don't know what to do, he seems crazy, but you want to see the textbook example of what happens to every nerd go down. Kill the beast or slaughter the ‘innocent’?

You decided that taking a blast to the past will be cool, even though you hate history. Now it's just a manner of when and where. Choose carefully, this is indeed a once in a lifetime offer.

In the weeks before this whole thing, you have made a lot of errors and mistakes. With that in mind, you decide to go to the near past to see where you went wrong and correct it when you come back. You punch in 2005 in the year field, and decide on the day to go to.

"Forget the past," you say to yourself, "the future is the wave of the, um, future." You know where you're going. The problem is, you can’t seem to decide where in the future will you be journeying to. Think about it.

It's only complete love for Apple and total hatred for Microsoft that causes you to let him go on with this. "OK, I get it. I want to see that. Not only do I want to see that, but I want to be a part of it." "Are you sure you want to help?” he says, a little eager. “You know we are dealing wilth murder and dangerous condition. Are you sure that you are loyal enough to Apple to go through with this?"

It's settled, you decide that the next century is the place for you. You want to see what people are going to do when they realize that the new century isn't the big deal they made it out to be. No big pollution fixes that were pledged on the first day of the new Millennium, no end to war, ha. You type in "January 1, 2101 12:00 A.M." You step up to the wall and prepare to jump in. "Wait, before you go," Steve says, holding a watch-like object in his hand, "you need to put this on. It will allow us to pull you back to our time. Plus, it will render you invisible in the past." He throws it to you, and in your geekish way, you fubble around with it before finally dropping it. It is undamaged to the best of your knowledge, but your pride is a different story. You put it on and turn back to look at the wall. "I'm ready," you say as you gaze into the liquid. "Alright, Engage!" Steve presses the button the liquid starts to vibrate and change color. You hold your breath, and plunge into the portal. You are sent through a soft of subway of time as you glide through a tube of plasma. You take in the most worderful sight ever seen by man and feel as if you are more important then ever. You look foward and see a horizon, formed by a technological plane of green lines and black squares. A good five minutes pass before you reach the end of the ride. You land, butt first, on the sidewalk of a magnificent city. High towers and beautiful statues stretch up into the sky. The buildings are much like that of your times, but they seem to have wires running from them and huge satillite dishes on each. Hovercars zoom by as people walk down streets, which now must be sidewalks because hovercars have made streets obsolete. After gazing around in the dark for several moments, you decide it's time to get up and think of something to do.

"I can't believe this!" you say, ready to strike at Steve, "You must be crazy! How could you kill someone just because he is your competitor?! I hate Bill Gates as much as the next MacAddict, but killing the people at Microsoft is still wrong, even more so if Microsoft did that to you. I cannot condone this!" Steve looks at you for a while and sighs. "Hmmmm. I thought that a loyal Mac user like you would embrace my beliefs and help me, but I guess I was wrong. Let's just forget this whole thing, shall we? You don't tell anyone about this, and we’ll see that you get picked to beta test the latest Mac stuff, eh?"

"No, this isn't right! You can't pacify me with the coolest computers and the most stylish toys! What's wrong is wrong!" "Be that as it may, I can't let you leave alive. If you are bent on telling the world about Cornelius, then you can't be allowed to go." With that said, two big guys in furturistic uniforms come up and try at you. They grab your arms and begin to drag you off through the lab. "Where are you taking me?" you ask struggling to get free. "To the Trash Can." one of the guards announces, in a low, husky voice. The Trash Can sounds like a weird place to kill someone. Does Steve think you'll die of infection? You sit wondering what is going on. When you come to a door labeled, "The Trash Can," in big, graphite letters, you realize that the Trash Can must be a code name for the place they use to kill off people who know too much and must be “released.” They open the door, showing you your fate. You see a seat that looks much like a salon chair. You wonder what it is, but realize that it's time to think of a way out.

"I…I can't die!" you say as you set eyes on the Trash Can, "I've never been kissed! I've never had a girlfriend! I haven't lived!" "How old are you?" one of the guards queries. "13," you answer, wondering what your age has to do with your death. "You're 13, and you haven't had a girlfriend? HAHAHA!" Both the guards begin to laugh and crack up on the floor. You realize that you are such a nerd that security guards find your life pitiful. That is the least of your worries at the moment, since you have a chance to escape. You run out the door and into the vast halls of the facility. Now you have to think of a way to stop Steve's evil plan to destroy Microsoft!

You waste no time running out of the hall and towards freedom. It's only when you realize that you don't know how to get out of the place that you stop. You figure that there must be some way to the surface, but you don't know where to start looking. Maybe you should find a map first. Then again, slinking through the lab might be safer, even though it will take longer. It’s a tough decision. It seems weird, betraying your favorite computer company to save the life of the one who made your least favorite company. And for what? Justice. Maybe you're not such a dweeb after all. With that said, make the right decision, dweeb.

You stand, calm and sure, knowing what it's time to do. It's time to declare your love to Candice. You’ve got to let her how you feel. "The thing is, well, I like you. This was just a chance to get close to you, but I guess you don't see anything in me. I mean, I've waited this long because I was afraid of getting shot down, but now I know you have already shot me down numerous times. I just didn't see it before now. I'm sorry I've wasted your time. It was stupid of me." You begin to walk away, but a hand catches your shoulder. "Um, would you like to come over?" Candice asks, smiling gently.

You begin to sqruim and twist as you try to work yourself free of the guards' grasp. You turn your arm all around as the guards keep a steady grip. As you feel their grip loosen, you feel something snap. You then begin to scream as a harsh, startling pain fills your arm. You fall down on the floor and realize that with all that twisting, you broke your arm. As you move around frantically on the ground, the guards get a hold of you and throw you into the Trash Can. They strap you down and lower the dome on top of your head. "What is this, some kind of advanced electric chair?" You say, holding back the pain of your multi-fractured arm. "You could say that, but I must say, you won't be cracking jokes after you see what this can do." Time runs out as the guard's hand reach for the switch. The other guard leaves, thinking this is a one-guy job. You heart races as your doom becames certain.

"OK," you say, wondering what the sudden change of heart, "I'd love to, but why?" "I never thought that you cared. I just thought you were annoying, but I guess it was just because you felt uncomfortable around me." Finally! She understands! Now you feel as if nothing can get you down. "You begin to walk to her house, your hand in hers, feeling as if you were in the best dream ever. You pinch yourself just to make sure it isn't a dream. Now, the world is yours. "You arrive at her house. She smiles and asks, "What do you want to do?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course." you say, as the shock fades away. "I mean, yeah, it was just a joke. I didn't know you would take it seriously." You struggle to force a smile to your mouth. "I'll ask him for you, no problem." "Thanks, Jacob. You're sweet." She leads over and gives you a nice, sweet kiss on the cheek. "You're a real good friend." Ouch, friend. Man, you're in it now. She thinks of you as a friend. Now you chances of getting with her is slim to nil. That dreaded, 6-letter word can ruin your hopes for a future with that girl. "Yeah, friend." You say, gazing into emptiness. Candice walks out the door. Now you are stuck, thinking about how to tell Joseph that the girl of your dreams is after him. Of course, there are two main options.

You turn around and a devilish smirk comes across your face. Horns grow out of your head and you receive a crimson red tail. Why allow your best friend to have a chance at being happily ever after with the girl of your dreams, when you can make yourself look like the ggod guy and Joseph like the foolish villian. All it requires is a little bending of the truth. You would rather tell him in person the "awful" truth so there is know evidence of what you say, but this evil thought could escape you at any minute. What a tough, develish decision.

"I should call my dad," you say, "He'll want to know where to pick me up." "OK," Candice replied, "The phone is in the kitchen. Take a left. I'll be waiting." Ah, never have you thought that you would hear a women say those words in that order to you anytime soon. You head for the kitchen and find the phone mounted next to the refrigerator. You dial you father's work phone number, and await the secrtary's voice. "Aztech Electronics, how may I direct your call?" "Thomas Baxter, please." "One moment please." You whistle for a couple of seconds before you hear your dad pick up the phone. "Hello?" your father says, in his gruff, strong voice. "Hi dad, it's Jacob. I'm going to need you to pick me up at this girl's house at 2938 N. Lafata Lane." "Why aren't you on the bus? Did you miss it?" "Um…" "Why aren't you waiting at the school, are you doing a project or something?" Well, what is it?

"How about we just watch TV?" you say. "OK, follow me." She leads you to the sofa in their family room. You both sit down closely together as she reaches for the remote. She turns on the TV and you two sit, laughing and talking as you watch MTV and FOX. As you guys share thoughts, you slowly drift into slumber. You awaking to the sound of the garage door opening and Candice shaking you. "Get up! My dad's home! He's going to kill you if he finds you here!" You begin to think that you've switched bodies with a more popular person. I like you, no guys at the house. You have it made, but not for long. Where should you go?

"Any last words?" the guard says, gripping the switch. "Just a few." You clear your throat and look the guard straight in the face. "I die now, not because I have done wrong, or because I have hurt anyone. I die now because I took a stand, I was brave enough to try to stop a mad man from doing wrong, and as long as there are people like that, we will be…" Down the switch goes and a scream escapes your lips. Pure, unbridled energy goes through your body as your very molecular structure begins to decompile and your brain starts to upload info in to the computer. This is a twisted way of making sure that those who "know too much" never get a chance to tell their tale. Plus, they get to see everything about you. Heh, they'll have fun with that.

You begin to play Starcraft after writing your geeky email message, but you are too lightheaded from Candice asking you to Homecoming. So lightheaded, that you lost against the computer on “Super Easy mode” 17 times straight. Normally, you'd be furious, but you don't care. All that matters is making Homecoming just right. You decide to look at your bank account. You dial in and ask for your balance. To your surprise, you have only $10.79 in your account. I guess Final Fantasy 8 and Donkey Kony 64 set you back a bit. Now your main concern is getting money, or else your Homecoming will be a flop.

You decide to stay 'til the end of the arguement. Heaven forbid you miss the battle getting intense. "You know what will stop this." your father says, looking her in the eye. "You know quite well that I know, but I won't stop it." "You have to, your agression level is going off the scale. You have to stop it." "I have to countinue the experiment, this could be a break through. You can't stop the greatest advance in science." Experiments? Science? Agression? This is getting good. You listen more attentive than ever. "Listen, I just don't want anything to jepordize the well-being of this project. We need to nuetralize the problem." "OK, but I need a rest. I'm going upstairs. I must be losing energy, too. Your mother begins towards the stairs, telling you to head for your room quickly. Once there, you think of how to handle this thing.

So, after the leave of Candice, you decide to tell everyone you can about your sudden stroke of luck. You figure the quickest way to let the whole world know is to tell your buddies on AOL Instant Messanger, you know, the ones that live 10,000 miles away. I must say, that's a very geekish thing to do, but it's your choice, not mine. You switch on AIM and sign in as DeathtoBigBrother85. The first person you tell is TheEndIsNear192039. The session goes as followed: DeathtoBigBrother85: Hey, EIN. TheEndIsNear192039: sup bigbro DeathtoBigBrother85: Unusally happy. DeathtoBigBrother85: I got a g/f TheEndIsNear192039: cool, goin 2 homecoming or somthin?? DeathtoBigBrother85: Um, no TheEndIsNear192039: date? DeathtoBigBrother85: No, but she said she need "help" in ComLit. TheEndIsNear192039: oic DeathtoBigBrother85: What? Did I miss something? TheEndIsNear192039: uh no TheEndIsNear192039: have uh fun with your gf After that conversation, you decided to put your annoucement on hold. Were you readin it wrong? Does she truly just need help in ComLit? Maybe you can use this chance to make it what you thought it was. What will you do?

You head straight out the door, not bothering to tell your father or mother where you're going. You get on your bike and ride straight to Joseph's house. It takes you a little less than 5 minutes to make it to your destination (obviously the devil is adding in your mischief.) You knock on the door and are greeted by Joseph's mother. "Hello? Oh, it's you, Jacob. Come right in. Joseph is getting better, and I’m sure your visit will aid in his recovery." "Thank-you Mrs. Talibon, I'm glad I could be here." "She sees you to Joseph's room. On that final walk to his doorway, you wonder if this such a good idea. Besides, you don’t know whether you want to bad mouth Joseph or Candice.

You decide to make up stuff about Candice. You might just end up making him more sick by telling him people are making fun of him anyway. You approach the doorway and peek in. "Hey, Joseph." "Hi, Jacob," Joseph replies. He is sitting up in bed, reading an issue of Batman Beyond. Beside his bed is a discards pile of Pokémon and Superman comics, Booster Packs, and medicine bottles. "How are you doing?" "Good, thanks.” “I, um, came to tell you something." "Okay, shoot." "Well, the thing is, Candice, well, likes you." "Really, but, um, don't you like…" "Yeah, but not anymore. Besides, I heard weird things about her." "Like?" "Well, I heard she is so mean, she is in charge of her parents, and her dad is a marine! Imagine the type of damage she must deal out to get a marine scared. I don’t want to date her. Geez, what if I made a wrong move?" "Yeah, I guess, um, anything else?"

"Well," you start, feeling the bond between Joseph and Candice fade, "I do believe that I heard the last guy she went out with, well, he got so beat up, that he was in the hospital 2 months after they broke up! What happens if I want to break it off? I get broken, that's what!" You turn to Joseph, his eyes unfaltering. "So, what should I tell her?" Joseph gets up and stares right at you, almost looking through you. "Get out." "OK, I'll tell her you want nothing with her." "No, I mean you, get out!" "What?" "Nice try. Trying to make Candice look bad so I would say no and you could have her, but those stories were pretty weak. I thought, you know, that you really didn't care, but I guess we were both wrong. You for trying to trick me, and me for trusting you. Now, go away. I need to recuperate." You slowly inch back and finally out of the room. You walk quickly out of his house and jump onto your bike. Well, Einstein, your only, er, best friend hates you as your "brillant" plan backfires. What to do.

You quickly run into his room and say “Hello” to Joseph. "Oh, hi Jacob. What brings you here?" "Oh, nothing except, well, Candice likes you." "What, your kidding?" "No," you say, quickly justifying the truth. "But, don't you like her?" "Sure, but I don't think it would work out." "Really, well, it wouldn’t feel right…" "Nonsense, I wouldn't turn down this chance if I were you. I mean, if you can forgive her." "For what?" he says, a bit puzzled. "What? You haven't heard about the things she said?" "No. What did she say?" "Well, nothing really," you start, innocently, "but before she told me she liked you, I heard her tell her friend that the only reason she'd go out with you, is because you’re loaded with cash." "Really?" he says, on the verge of hostility. "That's what I heard." "Well, then, you can tell her that I could care less if she likes me." Bingo. You've done it. You nod your head, and run out the door. Success!

"No," you say, "that's about it." "Well, in that case, I'm not sure I want to "be" with her. Sounds hazardous to my health." "Alright. I'll tell her then. Later!" You turn and walk out the door, only turning back to wave a hurried good-bye. You step out the front door, and get on your bike. Riding down the street, you hum a merry tune. Dang, you're good.

You stop, dead in the street, and realize how wrong this is. You immediately turn around and ride back to his house. You dash through the front door and up to Joseph's room. "I have to tell you something else. I lied about the agression level of Candice. I just didn't want you to have a chance." Joseph gets up out of bed and slothly proceeds to your position. He steps to your left and raises his left hand to your shoulder. He pats it, then places his right hand on your back, and pushes you out the window. The fall is bad enough, but the discarded glass is an added bonus. Next time, maybe you won’t lie about girls.

You lift your head up high and sing at the top o' ya lungs. The day is great for you, the Great Deserver. You are so happy and absorbed in your greatness, that you hardly notice the red Ferrari honking along at 85mph. Speaking of honking, it’s honking at you. You turn around and see it. Stunned, you slam on the brakes. Bad move. The car doesn't even come close to stopping and you are, um, less than great. That's what happens when you leave it to fate.

You head straight home and into bed, eager to start the next day. Later, you’ll wish you hadn't. You walk proudly in the halls of school the next day. Suddenly, you see Joseph and Candice discussing something. They spot you and come over. You look at them both peculiarly. "What's going on?" Candice speaks. "Did you tell Joseph I didn't like him?" She looks you straight in the eye, hoping for an honest answer. Are you going to give the lady what she wants?

You throw out your hand and say, "Technically…" Bad move. They both ball up their fists, and throw them back. You get a nice “One-two” punch, right in the jaw. You see, they had already decided that if you started your sentence with technically, you would technically get a nice broken jaw. You don't know what happens for the next couple of hours, but you awaken in the nurse’s office. You lay down, pondering the problem.

You decided to take the real role of the hero and take a key from the next passing guard. You creep into the shadows and crouch down, waiting to gang up on the next passer-by. You wait a good 10 minutes before a guy comes by the hall way. He's 6’ 4”, with broad shoulders and a rough complexion. You assume the hunter's position, ducked down low with both legs bent all the way. You wait, steady and undisturbed, for just the right moment. Finally, he comes into the center. He then turns so his right side faces you. You leap with a force that sends you flying like never before, and you hold your fist out and aim right for his face. You fall short and hit his pelvis. You land flat on you belly, and flip around as you notice a sharp pain in your stomach. Your eyes then focus on the fist coming straight at your face. Before you have a chance to roll out of the way, your crusade against Steve's evil plan has ended. Way to go, Rambo.

You feel like you need to know more. You immediately go to their room, and knock on the door. The door isn’t latched, and it swings open as you see your mom and dad talking. You quickly walk in and start before they can say anything. "Listen, I know what's going on. So why don't you just let me in on it, and we can keep this out of the public eye. What do you say?" Your parents look at you, puzzled at first, "What?" your father says. "You heard me. You must realize this leaves you in a compromising position." Your mother gets up, passes by you, and stops at the door. She turns around to face you, blocking your escape. "No Jacob," your father says, coming closer, "this leaves you in a compromising position. You are blocked off before you even know what's going on, and the end is quick and gruesome. You sure know how to negoitate.

You stand, stunned by the current events. Realizing that you are going to "help" Candice in Computer Literacy, (like anyone needs help in should an easy class) you jump in to the air with a such a pose and a glass breaking scream that it would be worthy of one of those anime double-replay action scenes. You run around your room estatic and hysterical. You perform backflips and handstands. You spin around until you get an unpleasant nausious feeling in your stomach. After such a spectacular show of, uh, “excitement,” you get a little queasy and fall back onto your massive bookshelf. Your dizziness combined with the ‘thud’ causes you to fall flat on the floor. You turn right-side up just in time to watch the bookshelf wobble vigoriously before it finally falls over, crushing you under a pile of wood and hardcover books. The things you do for love.

After she has left, you realize that this has to be perfect. You then in a split-second begin to rush around, picking up every loose bit of clothing, computer software packaging, and books. You dash down the stairs (more like fly) to get the vaccuum and go over your bedroom carpet so many times that it is a suprise that the carpet doesn't get pulled right off the floorboards. You clean out your closet, clean off your desk, and straighten out your furniture, and accomplish this all before lunch time. (More specifically, 5 minutes after Candice left) You plop down on your bed and then come to realize that you have over 24 hours before Candice comes back. Having already done the tough stuff, you decide to have a Unreal Tournament Frag-Fest. You go to bed that night with visions of Candice and Pulse Guns. The next morning, you spare no time as you eat a hearty breakfast, finish your chores, (leaving the house virtually spotless) and put on your ‘flyest’ outfit. (A pair of jeans that your mom bought that were too big and a shirt your Aunt Rose got from her trip to Jamacia that she says you'll grow into.) You wait, close to the window, hoping to have everything perfect. After fifteen minutes, you come to notice that you have a good 5 hours before she comes over. What should you do with that time?

As you come to decide that there is plenty of time between your destiny and now, you firgure it is a good Idea to strategically plan the time that you will be "helping" Candice. You lay back and begin to think deeply. You decide to start with some well prepared snacks, (chips and soda, very ritzy) then go to the computer to begin your "tutoring" session. You then, around 5:30, will declare your love to Candice, and admit everything. Then she should admit to you her love and confess that this was a silly ploy to get close to you. You will then kiss each other and finally become boyfriend and girlfriend. Nothing big. No long, passionate, sloppy kiss ending in bed. Just a typical, teenage courtship. (or so you've heard, from friends, television and such) You become so totally consumed in this that you don't even realize that it is 5:05 until you turn around and see the clock. You get up and resume your position by the window once more, awaiting her. Then, she walks up to you house in a cute, bright orange tanktop that clearly shows her midriff. She has on tight, blue jeans that make you want to scream out, "OW! She's mine, no one else’s!" As she walks to the door, you dash down to the living room to greet her as she walks in. You mow down your dad and make a flying leap to the door. You get up, straighten out your clothes, and casually open the door. "Hi," Candice says, in her sweet, schoolgirl voice. "Um, hi." You say, still stunned that the moment is finally here. "How's it going?" "Good. How's things with you?" "Pretty good." "Should we go upstairs?" "All right." You head up the stairs with her close behind. You are so thrown by the moment that you nearly faint, but you countinue up stairs. You both get to your room. You ask if she would like something to eat. She nods. You go downstairs and return with the chips and soda. She begins to eat them. You begin towards the computer. You place you hand on the mouse and move it aimlessly, pretending to do something productive. You then decide that this is the time, the right moment, but do you want to go through with it?

Your mind is made up. You know this is as good a time as any. You turn around and begin to utter the words, but your hand was caught in the wire of your iMac keyboard, pulling the computer down. You were stunned by this, and begin to back away from the computer. You back up onto a loose skate that came from out of nowhere, and are thrown off balance. You stumble back and out the broken window, down the roof and onto the hard, concrete driveway, head first. You lay there a while before slowly drifting off into a land where color flows vividly and raw geometric shapes float around smoothly, but without purpose. You wake up in an emergency room with a bloody bandage around your head. Around you is your mother, father and Candice. You look up at her and smile. "Are you all right?" she queries.

"I love you," you say, as if you were still in the bedroom where you left off, "Will you go out with me?" She looks at you, cock-eyed at first. Then, when she realizes you are serious, she throws her head back and laughs. She continues laughing hysterically all the way out the door. As she exits, your eyes roll back into your head. And the EKG runs a straight line.

You decided to play her crazy game a while longer, until she comes around. "So, what do you need help with exactly?" you ask, making your move. "Mostly word processing. I seriously suck at that." "How about you come over here and sit down." She walks over as you get up from the seat. She sits down and places her hands on the keyboard. You decide to adjust her poor hand position and take her wrist up in your hands. This moment gives you the best feeling of your life. You place them correctly and explain that that the first step to good word processing. "So, um, what's your WPM rate?" "Uh?" "Your ‘Words Per Minute’. How many words can you type in a minute?" "Oh, OK. I get it." Man, she’s good. She has this game down, you think and countiue on. An hour passes by and you are driven over the edge. You can't take it. She hasn't said a single thing about liking you. "So, uh," she says, still sounding as sweet as ever, "What's this about saving?" "What is with you?" you say, finally reaching the breaking point. "You come over here and say you need 'help' with the computer. You put up a show that could have fooled me if I didn't know better. Now, how can you hold it in?" "Huh?" "God. I like you. I always have. And you must like me, too. No one seriously needs help in such an easy class. How can anyone play this game so well?" "Maybe because I really suck on the computer? Maybe because I'm the only one here not playing a game?" "You mean, you honestly need help?" She gives you that look that girls are so good at, and nods. You turn away, realize that you made the biggest mistake in your life. "Hold on. You, like me?" She says, realizing that you finally let it out.

"Of course," you say, unwavering in your decision, "I must aid Apple as it destroys the only obstacle between it and it's destiny, complete control of the computer market." "Well," Steve says, "You sure are a loyal MacUser, I'll say that." The two of you begin to walk to the Central Room where all of the best PC-hating takes place. You marvel at the Bubbleboy viruses and the Windows Self-Destruct mechinisms. So this is how the PC got its reputation for beginning a buggy OS. "So," Steve says, "Where are you going to be working?"

You walk over to the Lime iMac and fire up Quake III: Arena. The time more than passes by as you frag your online buds, one after another. The pure rush of adrenaline is so much that you don't notice the time until the clock reads 5:30. You immediately shut down the game and look out the window. “What's going on?” you think. She should be here! Is there some kind of force trying to keep me from declaring my love to Candice? You think about what to do.

You don't know what's going on, but it's obvious that the authorites know what they're doing, so you decide whatever they do, it's for the best. You walk towards them and examine them closely. "What's the problem?" you query. It’s last thing you query. The evil glare from their eyes and the drone-like way they stare should have tipped you off that nothing good is going to come from this group of people. What were they doing? Evil government conspiracy? Deadly experiments? You will never know.

You decided that nothings more fun than a little juvenile delinquency. You reach under you bed and pull out an egg carton with a notecard tape to it reading "Ammunition". You clutch the carton close to your body, and dash out the door, down the stairs, and on outside. You walk down the street as the sun slowly sinks under the horizon. You decide that you have walked far enough into the neighborhood that no one would recognize you. Opening the carton, you wonder what drove you to doing such a thing. Is it your frustrations about Candice? Is it your ongoing struggle to become more than a nerd? You pick up an egg, throw back your arm, swing it forward, and let the egg fly. As it floats higher up, spinning through the air, you wonder more. Was it Microsoft's monopoly? Was it that wedgie I got last week? No, no. Those weren't it. The white yolk bomb slowly falls to earth, lining up perfectly with the large, bulky man who came out of his home in order to stop the vandal that he easily saw through his window, as it was daytime. Still, you wonder. Is it my mom? My dad? That pet goldfish that I ran away with when I was 5? What drove me to do this, to let the yolk fly? You ponder more as the bulky man comes out of his house, oozing with yellow and white, carrying a baseball bat with nails driven into it and the name "WIDOWMAKER" written across it in black marker. That's it, you think, finally finding the correct reason. "It's my complete stupidity!” you shout aloud. “That's it. There are no troubles at home, just ignorance!" You become proud and swelt at the thought of figuring this out on your own. A smile grows across your face, and the last moment of your life is a happy one.

You acquired the WIDOWMAKER activation code. Type shift and the the name of the bat to activate it. What's the launch code? Keep playing to find out.

You decided to throw a wild, awesome party. Maybe you can invite Candice and the jocks over and play a wild, unadultry game of WarCraft II. You then realize that you hate jocks, and Candice is not your friend. You also realize that WarCraft is not the teenage equivalent to a good time. After crushing your own dream, you decide to boot up the old iMac.

You're face swells as you realize how far away from the truth that statement is. Your only real friend is Joseph, and you don't really boss him around. You face is about to explode in a fit of laughter. You turn to run up the stairs so mom can't see you. As you take that first step, it seems you under-estimated it and fell hard onto the stairwell. Chills of embarrassment run through your body as you come to your feet and dash into your room, when there, you decide to do something fun to get the embarrassment out of your system.

You try to collect what is going on but you can't. You hit your computer after it fizzles and fuses, and all the sudden your falling through something out of Sliders. Now you're in this techno room where who-knows-what could come up and kill you. "What is this?" you think, "Some twisted kind of computer revenge?" You then wonder why everyone always picks on you. What did you do to be ridiculed for? A tear comes to your eye as you think of the pain everyone inflicts on you. You try to hold back the tidal wave of emotion, but it is utterly hopeless. You begin to bawl like a little baby. "What seems to be the matter?" a man in a lab coat and white treach coat speaks to you. You have heard this voice before, but you can't place it. You look up and find the face of Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer Inc., staring down at you. "Hello?" he says, trying to get your attention, but you are too dumbfounded to respond.

After the disturbing, disorienting order of events, you decided that there is nothing to worry about. You go home, you have a nice dinner. And get a good night's rest. The next morning you get up and eat breakfast. You prepare for school and then go to the bus stop. You run through the hum-drum rountine of school. The authorities act as if nothing happened. They countine being their surly, power-hungry selves. You were about to go home and chicken out of talking to Candice, when you finally realize something. Life isn't something to fear. So what if she laughs at you? So what if she vomits at the idea of you two going out? It's her opinion, and you can live through the torment of you peers. You suck in your gut and prepare for the inevitable. "Um, hi Candice." No sooner than do you open your mouth then does Candice turn around and say, "Listen, I was wondering, would you go out with me?" Thrown off guard by this turn of events, you instinctively react with a yes and a big smile across your face. She walks away and that ends the matter. You don't know what hit you. Just a time, a place, and a girl you love. That friday, you have a wonderful time with Candice at the local burger and shake place, Charlie's Shack. You can't believe how lucky you are, and you are found more often than not gazing into her eyes. The night was so great that you both decide to do it again. And again. And again. In fact, you find yourself in a relationship with the girl of your dreams. As it is in your sophmore year, and your junior and senior years. You can't find an end to the love. The love doesn't end, and you marry her out of college. You get a nice job at Apple and have 3 bundles of energy called kids. You grow old, your kids move away, and you find yourself on the porch, sitting in a rocking chair gazing into those same eyes you were 80 years ago. You wonder back to what was going on then, many years ago in the school with the guard and the principal, but you soon throw those thoughts away, because now, you could care less about what once was. It's more about what is and what's going to be.

You don't want to deal with Candice, so you just walk away. You decide that the only thing to do is call your dad up, so that's what you do.

"But Star Trek is on that night!" you exclaim as you blow the last chance you'll ever get at Candice. Candice looks at you for a moment, hoping to find some sign of sarcasm in you eyes. When she finds none, she begins to laugh. Much to your surprise, this is not just some Candice-style schoolgirl giggle. She really is laughing hysterically. The mere fact that you would even consider Star Trek over a chance with her was quite laughable. She walks right out of your room, laughing all the way. After she leaves, you finally realize your utter stupidity, and you begin to cry, the only thing that you can think to do. This goes on for a good hour before you decide it's time to stop looking stupid. You don't know how you let this happen, but you know it's not a good idea to dwell on it, unless you want to cry again. Blowing your chance, you now must find something else to do.

"Um, um," you stutter as your chance has finally came. "I mean, um, that is, um, why me?" The words on your mind come out of your mouth, only after tripping on just about everything between the two locations. "Well, um," she starts, seeming stumped by such a diffcult question, " I guess, um, because you're nice, and I know you, well, like me." That seems like a good enough reason and you accept all too eagerly. "OK," you say almost a millisecond after see finishes her words. "Great, see you at 7:00 next Friday." She then abruptly walks out. You are too estatic to speak. You can't imagine your luck. You can hardly think of anything to do, but an idea soon comes into your head.

"No. I'm not," You say, with assurance and poise in each word you speak. "I'm tired of you thinking you can boss me around and not let me have a say. I'm tired of it! I can have a say too, and if I'd like to know what I'm going to be forced to choke down, than I should be told!" Your mother is shocked by the words that seem to have escaped your mind and finally surfaced. She slowly gets up from her chair, which she has been occupying for much of the day, and slowly makes her way toward you. You begin to prey to God that you haven't brought on more pain then you can possibly imagine. "Well, I see your point," she says meekly, as if threatened by your sudden change of additude. "I believe we’ll eat out tonight." She goes back to her chair and stays there, motionless and quiet. You walk to you room, still infuriated by the your mother's audacity. An hour passes before the sound of an engine is heard and the garage door is opened. You can hear you father's steps as he enters the kitchen. Faintly, he asks you mother how she is doing. Silently, she talks of how you yelled at her in an unnessasary burst of anger. Of course, they are talking too softly for you to hear this, so that when you father storms up the stairs and to your door, you are unaware of the pain that he is about to bring. "You ungrateful heathen! Your mother is about to cook you a delicious meal, and all you can do is yell about how her cooking methods are poor and unsatisfying? What do you have to say for yourself?"

"I think that you don't understand," you say, tired of his brutalness and arrogance. "I think that you both are morons who express poor communication, parenting, and all around human behavior! I hate this! You two don't even know what you are doing half of the time! It makes me sick to think that you are in charge of me! I think that I should take control!" As you rant about your parents stupidity, you notice that your father is the one who has shrunk away. You realize that this is the power you have over your parents. They are, in reality, weak and easily dominated. This sparks evil in your mind, and things begin to change, drastically. From now on, you don't have to take your mom's surly attitude or you dad's primordial way of dealing with you when you get out of hand. You can now tell them what to do and what to do for you, and you don't even have to raise a finger in anger. Sure, you never get Candice, but you don't care. This power is all you want. Eventually, it comes time for you to leave your domain and go on to college, a day your parents remember as "The Day the Devil Died". You have to go on in the world and do the normal thing. So you left your parents with a warped mind and sense of reality. So what? You're gone. And the only thing you can think of, is how easy life is going to be.

"Sorry, sir," you say, hoping to avoid an onslaugth of pain, "I really didn't mean to insult Mom's cooking or anything. I was just kind of mad about the day. I'm really, really sorry." "Oh no! Don't think you’re getting off that easy!" You father is filled with an evil sort of rage. It's unstoppable. You can hardly make out what's going on. He steps closer and closer to you, his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket you dive for his arm and realize your error when you find his hand empty. Suddenly, his balled up fist comes down on you quickly and without warning. So you lay, on the floor of your room, next to a StarCraft action figure, battered by your father. Why, you might ask? That's something you'll never know. Or will you?

Realizing your stupidity, you smack yourself across the face as hard as you can. Too hard it seems. The momentum of the hit forces you to stagger to the side and out the window of you room, head first. Sure, any other way, and you might have lived. But luck is a many-splendered thing. Or is that love?

After an hour or so, you knock yourself out of a stage of shock that was brought on by you letting Candice go. You decide that the time is right to make up for that and set things straight. You reach into your pillow and pull out a slip of paper with Candice's digits scribbled on it. You rush to your phone and quickly dial the numbers that seem to be already memberized (the paper must hold sentamental value.) You hear three rings before Candice sweet voice. "Hello?" "Hi Candice, this is Jacob. I just wanted to let you know that…" Click. She hangs up abruptly. It seems that you have totally ruined your chances. Now, without anything to do about the Candice matter, you go to your one and only true friend. Your iMac.

You decided that this is totally unfair and should not happen to a child of your statute. You cuss and rave and shout for all it's worth. You recite all known cuss words in the english languauge. And because that’s not enough, you recite all the ones in French too. And German. And Russian. And just as you are about to stop, you see a weird machine come down from the ceiling with the words "Anti-Hostility Weapon" typed neatly across it in classic Apple Garamond lettering. You get a second to look at it before it carries out it's duties, showing you exactly why you shouldn't cuss.

You decide that it is a good idea to get out of this place before something weird goes down. You start looking for an exit, but instead, come across a cute little chimpanzee with "Cornelius" written on it's name tag. You are caught off guard by it's cuteness and reach a hand out. Then, you realize that lab monkeys are dangerous (assuming this is a lab.) You pull back, but it's too late. The monkey opens it's double lined mouth and makes quick work of your arm. And that ends your wild ride.

You dash to the basement window and bang on it. After a couple of attempts, you are able to break through the glass. (Amazing!) You slip down the open space and scope out your surroundings. You are apalled to find the things great sci-fi movies are made of. You look around and see that you are surrounded by humanoid beings in large glass jars filled with fluid! You suspect that these are some sort of cryogenic chambers. You are shocked by this sight and believe that this school is more then a learning facility. You don't know what to do, but you think you’d better do it fast, because this isn't the kind of place to stick around in.

"What's going on? Why am I here? What do you want with me?" All of these things come out of your mouth, but they fall on deaf ears. The men in lab coats are bent on one thing and one thing only. That thing? We don't know. This time, anyway.

"Am I going in for surgery?" you query, thinking that the school official ushered you to the hospital after that nasty fall, "Why am I on this table? is it bad?" "Oh yes," you hear a voice say as the blurry shapes in front of you head start to resemble people. "It is quite, quite serious. We're going to have to amputate." "Amputate, what?" you shriek, knowing that the cutting of a limb is not usually needed after a serious fall. "My arm? My leg? What? What's coming off?" "Oh none of that," the voice says, giggling wth delight. "We're going to have to take…your brain!" You realize that this is no doctor's office and begin to shout for help at the top of your lungs, but it's too late to save your from this ending.

"Um, me?" you exclaim in such a shrill pitch that the neighbor's German shepard begins to bark uncontrollably. "You alright?" "Of course. Um, just got a little, um, something caught in my throat." You begin to cough trying to force that "something" out. In an effort to leave that awkward moment behind the both of you, you quickly get up from your lying position and look straight at her. You follow with a "Yes, I'll do what ever it is." Realizing how deperate you sound, you look down and gather yourself. "Great. I'm glad you'll help. Anyway, I need you to…" The possiblities of the next words entice you. “…go with me to homecoming...”, “…be mine forever...”, “…kill off Bill Gates...”, “…buy a G4...”, “…ask Joseph out for me...”. Then you realize. The last thought was not of your own, but what was actually asked of you. You look up into Candice's eyes, and see a vision of those words piercing your heart, ripping it out of your chest. "So," she says, “what will it be?"

"I'm sorry, but I think you’re wasting your time. To tell you the truth, I don't think I'm good for anything." Candice cocks her head to the left and looks at you in a cold, empty stare. It's a good 10 seconds before you hear her voice again, and when you do, it's not what you want to hear. "You're telling me, that I’m wasting my time? I don't believe this! I come over here thinking that I was going to ask you on a date, but you tell me that I'm wasting my time. You have no self-confidence and you view yourself as a nerd. No wonder your such a geek; you see yourself as one. I'm glad you stopped me from asking you out! Good-bye, freak!" She storms out the door and away from you. You are happy that she left, all she did was yell at you. It was pretty much babble, you think to yourself. Blah Blah Blah, geek. Blah Blah Blah nerd. Blah Blah Blah go out. You pause for a minute and repeat that last bit of info. Go out. Go out! GO OUT!! "Oh my god! You scream through the halls of the home, "She was going to ask me out!" You became so frustrated that you smack yourslef over the head as hard as you possibly can. A bit too hard it seems, because the force of the blow pushes you backward in to the screen of your iMac. You struggle to get yourself free from the lime box and hit the power button in the process. What remains of you is to horrible to speak of.

You countinue to look at Steve in disbelieve. Can it possibly be the CEO of Apple standing a mere foot away from you? You continue to ponder as Mr. Jobs eyes you closely. "Hello?" he says, wondering why you have suddenly lost the ability to speak. "Hello? Why are you here." He continues to observe you, waiting for you to show signs of life as well as trying to figure out why you might not be doing so. Finally, the reason, or what appears to be so, comes to Steve's mind. "Of course. It must be another victim of the Neuromatic Destorter. He's brain must be fried. Poor kid. I bet he didn't expect this when he signed up for beta testing. It looks like he has to go to the Trash Can. Guards!" Two bulky man appear at this moment, each dressed in jeans and a turtleneck. "We have another file for the Trash Can," informs Steve, adjusting his glasses and taking a sip of water. The men proceed to carry you away. You suddenly realize someone was talking about fried brains and Trash Cans. You begin to scream for help, hoping to make Steve see that your brain was indeed intact, but the men continued to cart you off as Mr. Jobs dismisses the screams he hears as the normal spasmonic vocal events that happen when a person is subjected to the Neuromatic Destorter.

"Do you know who you are?" you manage to blurt out, as if you were some giddy girl who just realized she ran into the Backstreet Boys. You realize how, for lack of a better word, anxious you sound and accordingly turn red. "Sorry," You apoligize, "It's just that you're you!" It seems that you did not catch the stupidity in that remark. "I mean one minute I'm in my room at my iMac and…" "Ah," Steve says, "You must be the lucky guy who got the iMac with the Teleportation Protocol. Wow, you think, You knew Apple was a leader in technology, but I didn't know they had that much of a lead. "So, why I'm I here?" "I didn't send you here just for kicks. Whomever gets the special iMac Rev B is to beta test a new product I have." "Cool, I've been waiting to get my hands on a G5 Power Mac." "Well, you'll have to wait a bit longer. The product I want you to test is a bit out of the ordinary." "What is it?" "A time machine. Will you do it?"

Then it hits you. You don't need her. She, in most people's opinions, leaves much to be desired in the personality department. "I don't need her!" you yell as if trying to prove the world wrong, "I could care less about her!" Realizing that you don't have to answer to anyone, you continue to ponder the situation in your mind. You have been swooning over someone that is not exactly the cream of the crop. To hell with her, you think. Straight to hell. You turn to your iMac and decided to take out a little frustration. "To hell with her!" you scream as you give the computer a swift backhand. At that moment, the computer begins to fizzle and fuse as something weird takes place.

You think that e-mailing her and getting the situation straight will ease your soul. You go to the iMac, fire up Outlook Express, and suddenly realize that you don't know her email address. It occurs to you that you never had much use for it, and that you don't even know if she has one. You decide that you have blown the whole deal and you should let it rest. After the shocking confrontation with the truth, you are left with nothing to do. You think about your next line of action.

You know that you really love her and that you can’t let this thing end like this. You know that you have to make up for it tommorrow. You drudge through the rest of the day and awake the next morning. Through the halls of the school, you hold your head high, and feel that you can make this work. You walk to Candice’s locker, number 128, a number any Mac nerd can remember. You close in on her, and right when you are about to open your mouth, a big guy steps between you and her. “Are you Jacob?” he says in his barking, low voice. “Yeah, but could you wait to beat me up just a moment, I have to talk to Candice.” “You’re not hurting her again.” “What?” A quick left hook hits you square in the face, assuring that you will never apoligize to your love.

“Um, I don’t think it’s such a good idea. I’m not as smart as you think I am.” Candice looks at you oddly, wondering if you realized what you said. Only being answered with the top of your head, she begins to snicker. The snicker becomes a giggle, which becomes hysterical laughter. She throws her head back and screams of amusement come from her mouth. She continues to laugh as she walks out the door. You then realize what you’ve said. The shock of your stupidity is too much for you, and you collapse on the floor.

“Why me?” you say in disbelief. “I don’t know.” she says softly, innocently. “It seems like you’re the only one who can do this for me.” You’re so filled with pride when you hear these words from those lips. “I’ll do it!” you say quickly, knowing that you are the only one who can. “Great! I need you to ask Joseph out for me. I love him to bits, but I’m too embarassed to ask him myself.” You heart sinks as your pride turns to anger.

You are so incredibly hungry that you can’t wait to get downstairs. You jump down the stairs, 4 at a time, ready to eat a horse. The problem is, this amazing feat causes you to slip and bang your head on the bottom stair. You are knocked unconscious. Your parents then assume that you were listening in on their very confidential discussion, and dispose of you accordingly.

You decided that you aren’t really that hungry and can wait before going down to dine on whatever Mom had been working on. You soon fall back asleep and would have stayed asleep for a long while, if it wasn’t for the disturbingly loud sounds that you hear an hour after falling asleep. You soon spring from your bed to see what had happened. Soon after the clatters and clags you heard before, your father’s voice is heard. It’s a shrill scream that occupies his vocal cords, one that crudles blood just from the first millisecond of the sound. You run down the stairs to see what has happened, and find that your world has been scattered. You father lays still on the floor. It is obvious what has happened. The knive pertrudes from his chest cavity while blood slowly cascades over his already soaked body. Motionless he lays, head to the side with his eyes opened as if still alive, only staring into nothingness. Tires squeal as a car speeds out of your driveway. Quickly, you run out the door, hoping to catch up and find the answers to all the questions that burn in your head. It’s obvious that it’s your mother who has sped away as well as the fact that she is the murderer. But what is not obvious is the resaon why. Wasn’t it a match made in heaven? Weren’t they meant for each other? Your curiousity and thrist for knowledge drive you to find the reasons, but it would be lunacy to track down that woman. What will your destiny be?

There’s no doubt in your mind. You have to go after her. There are just too many unanwsered questions. You rush to your room and grab your backpack. Quickly, you stuff it full of clothes, games, and necessary hygiene products. You grab your candy stash and pack it in the front compartment of the bag. You take your cap as you run out the room and put it on. You dash down the stairs and through the kitchen. You stop and look at your father for the last time, lying in a pool of blood. You look at this, knife in gut, tounge hanging out, yet you don’t cry. You cry at the sight of ketchup on your wrist, but not now. You stare and realize that this is real, and this is what ultimate punishment is. You turn and head for the garage. It’s late. You know that soon some noisy neighbor will call in about how your mother sped off, and you left with an overstuffed backpack. The police will come and see the knife, test the fingerprints, and they’ll find your mother’s. But you know it’ll be too late. You will have already delt wilt her. Still, a thought comes to mind. How can you be so brave now when your life consists of games and tears? You don’t know, but the feeling is good. Perhaps you won’t be a nerd forever. To be continuted in Jacob’s Story 2.

You know that this is too big for you, and you should let the authorities take care of this horrific crime. You hurry to the kitchen to call the police. This is when your eyes come to see your father again. His cold lifeless body lays ever so still, motionless as a rock. You rush to the body as if seeing it for the first time and foolishly try to pull out the knife. You quickly realize that the shock has just finally hit you completely. You don’t know what to do, except cry. You fall to the floor and whimper, then full-out bawl. You sit there crying your eyes out for over an hour, unable to comprehened the situation. You finally call the police and wait a good 5 minutes before they come. They examine the scene and see that there has been a struggle. They examine it even closer and find your fingerprints on the knife. “Oh, I can explain,” you say, thinking the police are a bunch of rational guys. “I was in shock and I tried to pull out the knife. I was just out of my mind.” You’re right. The police are a bunch of rational guys, and it’s for that reason they don’t accept you’re excuse. They quckly hand cuff you and cart you you off. You spend the night in jail, the worse night’s sleep you’ve ever had. The trial is the next day. It starts like any other trial. Everyone rises for the judge and sits down. Soon after you are asked how you plead.

“Guilty,” you say, shocking the whole courtroom. You know that there is no way to defend yourself. There are no witnesses, no evidence of your mother doing it, and solid evidence towards you. If you can’t let them know the truth, you might as well take the less severe punishment. The judge sentences you accordingly, 10 years. It’s as if he knows something, and he doesn’t want to punish you as much as he could. But how could he know. You are taken to the jail and given your clothes. You are put in your cell. It is your own, thankfully. And you spend your time there. There you sit, wondering, where she is. To be continuted in Jacob’s Story 2.

You’re not letting them take you to jail, especially since you have to prove your mother did it. “Not guilty, your honor.” The trial is a short one. The evidence presented. The jury, unimous. You had no chance. The sentence, death. The judge is apalled at your futile attempts to prove your innocence and does not want you to hurt anyone else. And so you go. It’s not the death that gets you. It’s the fact that Mom is still out there. And you have to pay for her crime. So you go quietly, hoping your mom sees this on the news, and sees what she’s done.

“You know what?” you say, suddenly being struck with a notion, “You’re right. Why should I spend my time with you when I can easily call my dad? Why waste time with you?” You abruptly walk toward the school.

“Um, you see…” You don’t know what to say. You can’t figure out how to tell her that why you want to stay with her, without letting her know how you feel. “Well, um…” “Spit it out!” she says, very impatiently, “I’m waiting!” “It is, that, um…” “What is it!” “I like you!” you finally blurt out, not thinking before you say it. You quickly turn around and try to get away, but a hand grabs you. “Would you like to come to my house?”

You think of this as a regular squabble and return to your room. You decide to return to bed. Dinner rolls around.

“Fine,” you say to the ones who surround you. “Do as you will, but let me tell you something. I don’t know what’s going on, but I will…” You’re cut off by the anesthetic that they injected into while you were talking. And so ends your mission to uncover the school conspiracy.

You don’t let up on the screaming. You scream until the eyes roll into the back of your head and you throat gets dry. You scream and scream, not stopping for anything, except the shot of toxic chemicals in the arm.

You quickly reach into your pocket and pull out the knife. Without thinking twice, you flip the blade and flick your wrist in order to give the knife flight, straight towards the head of the lead mad scientist. The knife slides through his head, and the doctor falls abruptly to the ground. “Dangit,” the principal says looking at the deceased sceintist, “looks like someone else is going to have to cut the kid open.” It is then that you realize that killing the head hancho doesn’t get you out of the bed you’re stapped in to. The principalgrabs the scapnel, and movings in on, while you scream the whole time.

In your pocket, you search for the pocket knife. Soon, you feel the small object and pull it out, but by the time you get it out. The doctor has already turned back around to you. “What’s this?” he says, looking down into your hand. You panic, you don’t know what to do with the knife, is it the end, you think. Finally, three words come to your mind, out of nowhere. “It’s for you,” you say subconisciously. “Huh?” He looks up for a minute. Than the answer comes to him. “Of course! You’re not a test subject. You’re the new guy. I should have known. Sorry about the locked door. We weren’t expecting you so soon.” You’ve done it. They think you're a new part to their evil scheme. Now you can find out what they are doing here. “Let me get you out of there.” The scientist press a button and the straps come up off you. “I’ll show you around now,” he informs you, and you both walk down the hall. After an exciting tour of robot drones and screaming children, it becomes obvious what is exactly going on here. The good doctor, whose name is Hurbert Gunningright as he told you at the beginning of the tour, is a total nut job. He’s using the school to recruit a mindless army that will help him rule the world without asking for anything in return. “So,” you query in a non-threatening voice, “why is this principal so willing to give his students up?” Dr. Gunningright looks at you and smiles and says, “He hates kids. He doesn’t know why he’s a principal, and he thinks that the last thing the world needs is offspring.” You are shocked to hear this, since Mr. Boton has always been nice to all the students at school. “Just one more question,” you say, still puzzled by one thing, “What about the non-zombies that help you take these brains out? Aren’t they going to want something.” “Not if I kill them.” He says. An evil smirk stretches across his face. You swallow and realize that you might not be home free. “Oh, but don’t worry. I like you. You’re going to be vice king.” You smile, both because your life is safe and you’ve never heard of a vice king. “Now, he says, time for the finale.” He opens the door to a giant control room with a huge transmitter in it. “This is where the final phase of the plan will commense. After I hit the green switch, the chip I have implanted in the now empty heads of most of the chirldren will activate.” You both walk over to the transmitter. “When the chips are primed, they will start to fight anyone who is not me... or you, of course.” He soon after fiddles with the controls. “There, neither you nor I will be harmed." “Anyway,” he continues, “They will fight parents, teachers, everyone, right up to the army and the president himself. He will surrender control of the USA to me, and I will use this country to take over the rest of the world!” A nut job indeed. You think of how much of a loon he is until your eyes set sight on the red button next to the green one.

It’s go time. You have to stop this mad man, and you can pick up a lot of chicks if your a hero. You slap your hand down on the red button. “Warning. Warning. Chip Self-Destruct Mechanism Activated. Chip Self-Destruct Mechanism Activated,” a computer generated voice sounds. You begin to wonder why all super villians include a self-destruct in their “carefully laid-out” plans. Gurbert turns to you and screams. “Traitor!” he yells. “You’ve ruined my carefully laid-out plans. He pulls a knife out of his pants and charges at you, and would have killed you if the police didn’t show up.” “Put the knife down,” the police chief says. pointing a gun straight at him.” The doctor does so as the cops move in. The chief walks over to you and congratulates you. “Good work, son. You stopped this mad man from taking over the world. We jsut found out about the plan, and we would have failed if you didn’t stop the operation. You’re a hero!” You smile as you repeat those words in your head. After leaving the school. You are taken to the station, where you are awarded a medal of honor. You are praised by everyone you meet, and you receive the ultimate prize, or at least what you think is the ultimate prize. That’s right. You get Candice and you find that this is the best life you could hope for.

You turn away from the red button. You realize that you can rule the world, and that stopping him will probably get you killed. You move away from the button and walk back over to the doc. “Glad to have you on the team,” he says, shaking your hand. Just then, the feds bust in. They have just learned of the scheme and got here to stop it. They quickly take everyone to the jail, including you. Shaking that guys hand really ruined it for you. Everyone involved with the operation gets life without parole, endin you world domination as quickly as it started.

You are so happy that you can’t contain yourself. You immediately call up Joseph and tell him the good news. “Hey man,” you say, feeling cool and calm. “How ya doin’ Jacob?” “I just got asked out by Candice.” “You’re kidding.” “Nope. She just came over.” “Weird.” “I am one lucky guy. I knew I could have her.” “I don’t know, maybe she’s using you.” You think for a minute. What if he’s right?

“Yeah, sure” you finally come up with, “and who’s your date.” Joseph gets the joke and hangs up then, but you don’t care. you got a girl now. You don’t need a best friend. The homecoming quickly comes around, and you are all set. She didn’t want the big stuffm so she asked you to just meet her there. You arrive a half hour late though because of cummerbund problems that you’d rather not discuss. When you get there you see Candice, in the arms of pretty boy jock. Boomer Wimalton. You rush over there and push him aside. “What the hell are you doing with my girl?” You were right,” he says to Candice, “He did think you would go out with him.” “What?” “Sorry Jacob, but I was only kidding about the homecoming thing. It was for a bet,” Candice says, smiling weakly. Al of the sudden, you become enraged. Your actions are not your own.

Your eyes begin to water as your knees fall to the ground. You can’t help it as you begin to whimper and cry. You can’t control it. You continue on and on. Your peers look down on you and laugh, but you don’t care, your life is bad enough you can’t do anything about how you’ve been treated. You manage to lift yourself from the ground and look at Candice with your tear-filled eyes and speak words that you never thought you would have the guts to say, or need to say for that matter. You look at her firm faced and unyielding and speak. “I loved you, or so I thought. Maybe I was an idiot and I feel for you looks., but I didn’t even begin to look at your cold, black personality. I don’t know what it was, but now I know one ting. You’re coming out of college nothing, because look won’t get you anywhere.” With that said, you turned to the door and stormed out, leaving Candice losted for words. Days pass as the homecoming night fades away. Three days later you are found sitting on the porch, thinking about how much of an idiot you are. You reflect on reason number 2,375 when Joseph comes up to you. “How’s it going?” “OK, I guess.” “Doin’ anything?” “Not really.” “Wanna walk or somethin’?” “Sure.” And with that, you get up and start down the sidewalk, forgetting your worries and cares.

You become filled with rage as your face turns red you can’t hold it in any longer. You tired of the jocks getting everything they want, and this final humiliation has pushed you over the edge. Without hesitation, you step closer to Boomer. You face meets him at his chest, but that doesn’t stop you. You look up at him with a cold, deadly stare. “Whatcha goin’ do, big man? Hit me?” With that said, your left fist flies thoughts his right eye, connecting perfectly. Boomer stubbles and loses his balance, falling back into the refreshments table, head first into the punch bowl. After minutes of meaningless fumbling, Boomer finally struggles to his feet. To be meant with you still cold, still deadly glare. But before he can react, you turn and head to the door. The next day, you fear death. Smart move, you think to yourself. Now Boomer’s going to kill me. As you step down the hall in the most time-consuming way, you caught Boomer coming down the stairs. Soon, your eyes met. As you say you’re final prayer, a maraulous thing happens. Boomer turns away and preceeds down another hall. In fact, it appears as if he was running. You act of courage might have just changed everything for you. The thought of the possiblites brings a devilish smile to you’re face.

Your chance has finally come. You can’t let fowl it up, so you decide to make it perfect. You must plan every moment of the affair. You plan on the limosine, the flowers, the dinner, everything. But when the factor of money comes in, your mouth drops to the floor. The sum is astronomical for you income, which is nothing (you parent believe that you should earn you money, and you believe that the day you work for you dad is the dad he’s Steve Jobs.) You have to thinkof how to get the money, but you’re running low on ideas.

“Help?” you say. An evil little smirk crawls across your face. “Yes.” “In Computer Literacy?” “Right.” “Why don’t you just come out and say you like me.” You couldn’t let it go on any longer then it had. “What?” “Come on. First off, you’re coming to me. You, of all people, are asking me to help you. Me! You despise me. I don’t know why, but that’s how it is.” “I’m coming to you, because it seems like you know what you’re doing on the computer.” “Yeah. well, I guess, but come on! You’d have to be an idiot not to get an A in that class.” Smack. A sharp, opened hand slides across you face. Candice walks out of the room in a fit. Smart move.

As you begin to up the door, you realized something. Life's not going to deal you the cards you want all the time. So what if you get a band hand a couple (thousand) times. It's better to play that hand like a man or fold rather than stack the deck. You twist the knob and push the door open. Joseph is lying on his back, playing Game Boy. "Hey man." The taste of new found sincerity is bitter in your mouth. "What's up, Jacob?" He turns off the Game Boy. The expression on your face lets him no that whatever you have to say is important. "Listen man, Candice likes you." The words roll off your tounge. No remorse. No regret. No problem at all with telling the truth. "But…" he says, but you already know what will come forth from his mouth. "Yes, I used to like her. No, I don't anymore. I really could car less at this point. Maybe you should go over there and talk to her." "Wait, Jacob…" His words are cut off as you close the door behind you. You don't feel the need to complicate the matter's worse with useless speech. You hardly notice the quickness of which you exit his house. You begin to act without thinking. Everything falls into place as you mind focuses on one thing. You walk up to the side of Joseph's house, and begin to bang your head repeatedly against the wall. With that out of your system, you climb on your bike and begin to ride. You wonder gorgeous girl will hold your interest now. Will it be Tiffany Jewels? Jessica Willright looks pretty cute. How about Ryoko Hazuki, the foriegn exchange student. The infinite possiblities obviously boggle your mind, because you seem to pay no attention to the rock in the middle of the road. Running right over it, you go from 20 to 0 in .5 seconds, using your face as a brake. But all is not wrong. This knock on the head allows you to make a great decision.

Your intelligence brings you to the marvelous idea that you should take your own life. OK. Being the narrator, I shouldn't be able to voice my opinion like this, but I must say tis right now. I can safely announce to the world the following four words: You are a moron. Oh well. not like I can change it. It is, after all, your decision.

Where was I? Oh yeah. You were going to kill yourself. But how? All the opinions are just so tantalizing. It's hard for you to choose.

You decide that the bridge over Masterful River is the way to go. I've nearly killed myself crossing it before, you think, I can easily kill myself on purpose crossing it now. You pick yourself up and climb on to your bike, heading straight for Masterful River. Now, you need to know a little about this bridge. This isn't some major, high-traffic bridge. Nah-uh. The other side of the bridge is a place called Pleasureful Forest, one of the most ironic names you've ever heard. This thing looks like it was built back in the pioneer days. It's wooden, narrow, long, and rickety. Remember the bridge from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom? Yeah, you got a picture of it. The River, which is 1,000 feet below you, has carved a huge canyon, making it nessecary to build this bridge. Of course, hardly anybody crosses, save the wouldbe explorer and the, um, "experimental" teen. This ultimately means either no one will find your body for a month, or the person who finds it will be to busy worrying were he'll put his elbow while he's attending to his girlfriend. As you arrive at the bridge. You have second thoughts. "This is dangerous," you exclaim to yourself. "I could really get hurt. I could even get killed." After a few moments of silence, you slap yourself on the head. Your lucky nobody was around to hear you. You leave you bike next to the bridge and begin to walk to the center. Silly things that you have forgotten don't matter to you right now. It doesn't matter that you forgot to make up a note. You don't care that you never go to go to Macworld Expo. The voice of your friend Joseph is irrevelant to you now. You quickly spin around to see that Joseph is about to run onto the bridge. He catches up with you briefly after. "What are you doing here?" You shout. "I was following you. I saw you take that fall and was wondering if you were alright." Ah, a true friend. "I'm fine," You say, calm and at ease. "Whatcha doin'?" "Killing myself." "Oh." That unsettling silence that you're use to now has just set in. Joseph continues on. "This isn't about Candice, is it?" "No, it isn't just about Candice. It's about everything in my goddamn live. I'm tired of it. You know, that bump on the head…" "Face actually. It was more of a…" "Whatever. The point is. I think I'm thinking clearly now. So if you don't mind, I'll be jumping now." Joseph talks a hold of you at each shoulder and speaks to you very sturnly. "Listen to me. First off, I do mind. Second, you should hear yourself. You get bumped on the head, and you think that now, instead of all the other times in your life, your thinking clearly. And third,…" Joseph makes you look him straight in the eyes for this one. "…I'm going to tell you something very important. Candice is a bitch. I don't care what you think, but I know this for a fact. She treats you like crap, and she has none of your same interest, except herself. Get over her. She's no big lose. I'm not even going to go out with her." You stand dumbstruck by the words that have left your friend's mouth. What you do now is the clear choice.

Taking an unexpected change in role, you actually think things through and decide that the best way to go is with a map. Hopefully, that will tell you where the exit is.

After a good fifteen minutes of thinking, you realize that you have no idea where to look for a map. You require a map in order to find the map, which puts you in a troubling position. You can only begin to think about how to go about finding the map.

"Stop right there!" You notice that those weren't words coming from your own mind. You turn around to find two Apple Lackeys running you down. It seems that you have a lot more to worry about than getting some map.

Thinking quickly, you assume a fighter stance. Somehow, you believe that luck and the forces of good are on your side. You see nothing wrong with a squirrely, young teenager taking on two, towering powerhouse who were probably inject with some weird enhancement formula, courtesy of Apple Labs. You take you best Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon pose, and prepare.

As they approach close, you grit you teeth and ponder how you will take out the guards. Thinking back to the days of Street Fighter, you wonder if you'd rather do a Whirlwind Kick, or a Dragon Punch. I should try the kick, you decide. I don't think I can make my hand flame up like that. Then again, I can be sure to take that guy out with a Dragon Punch, leaving time for the second one. On the other hand, Id be able to take out both with the Whirlwind Kick. Alright, I'll start with a Whirlwind Kick, then if the other one is…

You're cut short by a stinging pain in your chest. You look down to see a ketchup stain on your shirt. In front of you is one of the Lackeys with a smoking gun in his left hand. Rethinking the situation, you decide that ketchup is probably not what stains your clothes. Catsup, prehaps. No, you think, it's blood.

You fall to the ground, clenching your chest. "That isn't fair," you try to say, but you can't muster up the strength as the room goes black