thousand forty 3

“Mysterious Jack,” he said and paused. “That is what we will name him.”

Now, you might be wondering who is naming things? You might possibly be wondering what is this or wat is dis if that’s how you talk in your head.

Don’t ask me, I’m not a judge. I don’t usually use my first name inside of my own brain. I don’t refer to myself as ‘Keith’, cuz that would be weird. I refer to myself in the 1st person. I call myself I. But you can use your mind to do just about anything, isn’t it just flippin’ true.

You can believe whatever you want to believe. So can I.

Believe this: Mysterious Jack was a creation by a sorcerously mad and brilliant logician, who possessed an intelligence that could only be described as otherworldly, and he died before he could finish the process of Mysterious Jack’s complete transformation into reality, and he died because he had forgotten to learn if he would die the day he died.

See, this logician had the secrets to all of fate entwined in the threads of a ball of yarn, which, upon careful observation, would reveal the inner workings and machinations of events to unfold in it’s, or any, reality.

His great sorcerous powers took hold of him the night prior, and he had more-or-less forgotten specifically which series of events were to lead to his imminent death, or what time of day it would be, or whether it happened in the morning, or what exactly the circumstances were regarding his demise.

He plum forgot the details by the time it took up with him. He had looked into it earlier, when exactly he was to meet the end of fate, but the days grew into weeks, the weeks grew into months, and the months grew into years and then splat, he dead. Totally unexpected.

Mysterious Jack is dead, now, too. He was vanquished, or otherwise defeated, by some heroes at some point in time in some alternate realm, I just really haven’t bothered to look up the details yet, but I am confident everything will work out fine.