This is a book you have not yet read

Negative Oneth Chapter:

Look man, things are about to get weird, you just need to hold tight.
I can't promise you it will all get better, but you might learn something from this.
You probably won't, but nobody can make guarantees.
And before you panic, you didn't start reading the book yet because negative numbers aren't real.

Also just so you know, there is a gun.

Zero-th Chapter:

This is now a book you are reading. You are in a train station, casually minding your business, dwelling on the fact that this is the first book in 7.8 years (how long exactly is that, I really couldn't tell you) and feeling quite proud of yourself.

It's quite a wonder that there has been no book at all for 2847 days, give or take exactly 0 days.

Veering off-course from that reflection, your mind drifts into unexplored areas of the cosmos... as that is a thing you are capable of when the wind and waves hit you juuuuust right. Near or possibly on Jupiter, your mind is suddenly and quite rudely returned to your body as a stray skateboard enters your path and you accidentally do a sweet kickflip and impress everyone around. Your recent book-pickup was not quite as impressive to all of them, however, because (for example) the man sitting next to you on the side of the luscious fountain was, in fact, a Guiness World Record reader. You could see it written on his face, you didn't even need to read his "I am a guiness world record holder" t-shirt. The smug moron.

As you eased out of the insano-mode kickflip that you just performed and the wind finished playing with the edges of your hair in that perfect way that Calvin Klein models always seem to enjoy, you sit back down next to him, eager to tell him how many hot dogs you were able to cram into your face last June. He looks at you in the most deadpan way you have ever witnessed, as he slowly removes his t-shirt to show yet another t-shirt underneath saying "I am much better at eating hotdogs than you".

It's at this point, that you realize - I need a better PR agent. Your current PR agent removes his note-taking wire from your brain and walks sadly away as a man emerges from a nearby bush and replaces him.

"JUPITER IS THE 5TH PLANET FROM THE SUN!" you boldly proclaim to the man sitting next to you, whose pupils seemed to have rolled straight back into his skull for how un-lettered your t-shirt appears to be. A passing woman takes a long refreshing drink from a crisp, dripping, sensououous can of Coca-Cola Jupiter, the bold new flavor just introduced from outer space this week.

The man decides to stand up, flexing his calves as he does (and causing a lady behind him to swoon dramatically), then emphatically points his finger in the direction of the can, obviously about to voice something profound and undesired. You point back at him slightly less emphatically and you yourself also perch on the edge of something that appears to be, but may not in fact be, more profound.

Neither man speaks.

The first man continues to not speak.

Chapter 3:

Table of contents:
- some stuff you have already read
- some stuff you are about to read
- some stuff you likely will not read (don't read any Negative Chapters, if you come across them)

Chapter -2th:

WEE WOO IT'S THE POLICE YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR UNLAWFUL READING OF THIS CHAPTER, YOU WERE WARNED.

Chapter 6, the DASTARDLY PLOT made by the tiniest of minds:

It was a rainy Tuesday, which is odd, because the Space Wizard Sanctimonium outlawed rain on Tuesdays. But the rain didn't care (it does have feelings now because it's been genetically modified and re-coded to include those - Side Question: have you even been touched on the ear by a raindrop? Scared the Dickens out of me the first time, man!).

Please take a moment to consider this message from our sponsor.

Have you or a loved one ever been touched on the ear by a raindrop? Support is available. Help will come, but only on Wednesdays when rain is double super extra illegal I Mean It This Time. Have you tried just being tougher on your children? Then this kind of thing would stop happening.

Thank you for your consideration. I'm frankly amazed someone paid us to say that.

Back to the story at large, which has grown to a massive degree due to unforeseen hormones that were injected into the News Superintelligence last week, turning it fricken gay along with all the frogs.

Uhhh, I think there was a skateboard? Someone wearing t-shirts? You snap back to reality as an EMT frantically pats you on the face and you hear a muffled "wake up man, you can do it" fading into hearing. You look up at the face of the EMT and say "Dad?" which is weird since he looks nothing like your dad.

He just smiles gently down at you and says "that's the third time someone has said that to me today - and you're not on drugs like that last guy!"

"Are you a drug?" you ask in astonished wonderment...

A horrified look flits across his face, wandering around as bemusement for a while, and finally settles down into a kind of grim grimacey frown. He sneers ?? at you as he pulls his face off to display a FRIGGEN HUGE weed leaf.

How did you know, you little narc? he snarls at you maliciously, malice leaking out of his every malice.

You roll over, groaning, as you find the sound of Weed language to be quite irksome and not at all peace-ifying. But you grit your teeth and produce a less-than-polite retort in the seediest dialect that you can think of (did it come from the planet Coos-Coos, or something like that? you can't remember because the latest skateboard trick you did erased some crucial part of your memory that controlled the thought-to-speech matrices):

"NOW SEE HERE YOU" you shout (but then remember that this is a book that will likely find its way into a library, so you should really be a little quieter).

Wait hang on, it was the character shouting. Think! Think! Think! You can't keep saying stuff like that or the reader is going to get bored and leave. Stupid...

Chapter (I'm not sure there's any rule for this??)

A long arduous time later, in another galaxy. The beginning started.

THIS WHOLE BIT WAS COPYRIGHT STRUCK BY DISNEY. WE CAN'T SHOW YOU NOTHIN, BUT IT WAS REAL GOOD.

Chapter negative i:

You are supposed to read this one. If you knew any math at all you'd have known that, you absolute dummy.

Ok, actually, I went a little far there. I know you and I are just getting to know eachother and it's a little forward of me to be so aggressive so early. Let's just pretend that this is actually chapter negative i^2 so um you're actually not supposed to be reading this.

Interlude:

I feel that I, as the author, need to interject for a moment to speak about religion. There are good thoughts and there are bad thoughts. I'm pretty sure that your picking of this book was not a particularly good thought, and we alllllll know where that could send you.

Yessssss, to the Camp of Utter Regret on Krypton.

AW NUTS ANOTHER COPYRIGHT STRIKE. We really need to stay away from the established IP. [REDACTED] gets really touchy about that kind of thing.

Re-run of Chapter 3:

Table of contents:
- some stuff you have already read
- some stuff you are about to read
- some stuff you likely will not read (don't read any Negative Chapters, if you come across them)

Everyone loves re-reading the (arguably) best chapter of the book, right??
You think you're done with it? It's gonna come up again.

Chapter 9 or something i've lost track:

You were there on ground looking at who is now canonically your dad.

He was looking especially green, which is NOT the colour you last left your dad. His face was always a bit more of a chartreuse (I DID spell that right the first time, MOM - EAT THAT, K?!?)

But before you can comment on his odd colouuur, he pulls his human face back on and he looks right as rain. Which of course gets him promptly arrested because it's Tuesday after all.

You begin looking around for that guy with the two (or possibly more) t-shirts, because he seemed to be the only sane individual around right now. You were wrong about this, but IF ONLY YOU KNEW THAT. TOMORROW YOU WOULD FIND OUT. THE VOICES WILL LET YOU KNOW AFTER YOU FINISH YOUR SHOWER. SOMETHING IS COMING. SOMETHING... TERRIF-

And just like that, we're at the End Credits! TRA-LA-LAAAAA!

Now I know what you're thinking. It's a bit early for the end of the book.
And I know what you're further thinking, actually that's a bit of a relief since, like, this is not a normal book you're pretty sure.
And I know what you're thinking after you're done crunching that one out, if we're at the end of the book, why are you still blathering on?

PART 2 - the self-contained sequel:

As we return from the gripping pilot episode, we zoom in close on Trattivarius Miggle (which is your name, passed down 13 times in your family, mother-to-daughter-to-uncle-to-son) who just finished greasing his skateboard, ready to go carving up some park near some dogs somewhere.

You walk down the street, greased skateboard in hand, wolfing down your 3rd Mickey Mouse Nike McDonalds Happybirthday Meal of the day. These meals had become a lot more peaceful, you thought IN SILENCE, since they stopped making those burgers with the whirli-gigs spinning on top and the music playing from the edible speaker at the bottom. And it was nice that they were still made of Real Mickey, that was a nice touch.

PART 3 - pull it together man:

OK so you had just fainted after being fully owned by that guy with the neat hot-dog shirt.

You had just woken up and met your Genuinely Real Dad who was in no way undercover drugs.

You get to your feet and look around, hoping to congratulate that one guy on his excellent taste in both record-having and t-shirt wearing. Alas, all you can find is a discarded and crumpled t-shirt that reads "I am gone now".

You shed a single tear as you look longingly down at this impeccable merch that you know your best designer friend could NEVER produce, and then suddenly you realize it's Tuesday - and even teardrops can get mistaken for rain, if someone is squinting at you juuust right. And someone was. Jimmy on Second Street was. He was a downright FABULOUS squinter, his dear mummy-in-law always said so (don't bother [REDACTED]).

You shed a second tear before you catch yourself, and at that very moment the squintiest looking cop you have ever laid fully open eyes on walks out of an alley and begins to look around. First up, then slightly more down, a brief feint in your direction but ultimately in the other direction. He just kinda stands there looking at the discarded t-shirt on the ground.

Some time passes as you stand there, freshly rained face juice perched on the edge of falling to the ground and breaking the law big-time. The cop continues to stare at the t-shirt.

After some more time passes, you hear him mutter: derndest bird I've ever seen...

You sigh at the state of things in this neighbourhood. If only people would OPEN THEIR EYES, they could really see people's souls for what they are if they did. They would see that HALF (no less) of their own police force was just various substances disguised as humans, with real feelings inside, even though they were powered by solar energy (and everyone has come to hate solar energy in this culture... the sun has done enough wife-beating that some cops even suggested that they bad sunlight from shining on Wednesdays).

This time I'm getting back on track without a new chapter break to give me cover.
You quickly turn around before the cop sees you. A single one of your tears slides off your face and spatters loudly to the ground. The cop starts to attention and looks around, this time fully in your direction. He breaks out his magnifying glass and squintily looks at the single quivering drop sitting on the pavement. He hmms, he haws, he ponders for a sec...

WELL THEN he shouts, which isn't needed since everyone is right there.
"As long as it's just the one then", he says, at a regular volume this time.

He cautiously bends down, swiveling his head full-round to make sure no one spots him (but Jimmy does, you best BELIEVE it). He grunts and gingerly adds 1 solitary tear of his own to your quivering pile on the ground.
"That's for you, mumma Bumpleenda" And then he marches off in the direction of Mount Trumpet Street where the police were gathering to "smoke some drugs" or something like that.

You jump as your phone alarm blares. You huck the noisy thing into the canal since you are at the end of your wits and you'll be gosh darned if a small rectangle is gonna tell you when it's Heart Medicine time.

^ Helpful Divider between sections of this novel – no it's not a weird smudge on your TV screen.

Contents of the Table:

• Carrots
• Coasters (the rolling kind)
• Jingles
• Half-eaten erasers
• Pictures of dead fish, extra mustard

This is by far the strangest set of coasters I've ever seen, you exclaim as you sit down to study the weird heiroglyphs etched onto the back of each of them.

Chapter who knows anymore, but we hope not negative:

There once was a man of St Moose.
Whose favourite colour was chartreuse!
Did that last line have too many sylables?
Is this rhyme getting more sillygoose?
Can you even make everything rhyme with goose?

Anyways, back to the gripping three-part catastrophe happening to Trattivarius The Third (did I forget to mention that he was the THIRD set in his family to be named that?? Pretty sure your jaw is just on da floor after dat one). He didn't want to join in on the smoking party up the street, so he went down the street instead, and you wouldn't believe what he saw with his Fully-Open eyes!

Before his fully non-closed gaze, two people stood about a half centimeter from eachother (we didn't measure very carefully). Both of them had their eyes plastered nearly closed in focus. Both of them were fairly bruised.
As he watched, they both took two careful steps backwards, quieted themselves and centered their chi. Then both of them confidently stepped forward and SMACKED their heads together. They both yelled "HEY WATCH IT BUD" in unison and neither took a single step in either sideways direction.

Tratt (which is what we readers will be calling him from now on cuz it saves on PRECIOUS brainwaves - God knows that we only have two of those left) rolled his eyes and said "the Huckle-Gosling Twins, I should have known you'd come walking down this way - don't you have anything better to do than intrude on MY story out here on the super-rad streetz" (don't ask me how he managed to get a Z in that word... English has progressed a lot since 2026, ok?)

At the sound of his voice, the two brothers wheeled around to look in a direction that was vaguely his. "HEY WATCH IT BUD" one calmly remarked. "BUD, YOU BEST WATCH IT", his brother remarked.

Tratt (boy I am glad that we've settled on this nickname thing, we're saving so much time and mental energy. The future really is incredible) thought that this conversation would PROBABLY not get any more invigorating, so he decided to cut it off right there. He knew they had to head to bed soon anyways. Their auntie who knitted all their purple socks was a bit of a meanie and made sure they always were tucked in JUST RIGHT so they'd quiet down with all the "WATCH IT"s and "BUD"s, which she was right sick of by now.

"Pst!" he said, waving his arms in a gentle rhythm, "go on, git".

The two brothers stared silently at somewhere close to him.

"hmmmm WATCH IT" one of them muttered. "Buddy..." the other murmured.

At this moment, a very wide and not-so-nice-looking rift opened up in the middle of the street, and a gigantic squid with monstrous eyes popped out of the ground and ate up the twins. It was quite the nasty mess, but not wholly unexpected for a Tuesday, come to think of it.

The Earth was gettin' real shaky around the equator parts, and (you know how you get when you're real nervous and your tummy starts shaking and sweating and stuff? you do?? well then multiply that by about 756 and you've got the Earth situation about figured out)

But soon the earthquake was over and the main story continued.

BUT FIRST ANOTHER WORD FROM OUR SPONSORS

Have you ever started reading a book that you had never read before, hoping that after you were done, you'd have read it?
That's pretty much our target audience, man.

Coming soon to a book store, or at least the sidewalk near a bookstore, near you: A Book You Have Not R.. hang on jim, are we advertising in our own book? What's the point of that? Who's going to read this and say "hey I'm going to go [click]

... Well, you heard it here folks. Go do whatever that was

Epilogue & Appendix:

We realized that there was something missing as our 13 editors finished making the final changes (we had 1 annoying spelling mistake somewhere in the middle that no one could find for the LONGEST time but we just knew it was in there).

A certain, eau de resistance, if you will (or if you won't, WE DON'T CARE AT THIS POINT, THE BOOK'S BEEN PUBLISHED OK??)

Chapter 3, the fabled RETURN:

Table of contents:
- some stuff you have already read
- some stuff you are about to read
- some stuff you likely will not read (don't read any Negative Chapters, if you come across them)

One final re-re-reading. You think it be done, but it never be............

PART 3 - the sequel's sequel:

I'm sure that the reader who has stuck it out this far in the story is simply dying to know what Nick was up to. Why did he have a skateboard? Why was it so greasy? Now we're going to get to all that juicy "previously on" stuff that people come to books looking for.

Nick or Vetrivuious or whatever was a lawyer. This makes him pretty much immediately unlikeable, so the studio has demanded that he must be struck from the book. He shall not be mentioned after this point.

Kcin was sneaking around in the best way he knew how. He didn't want his author to find him and hit or strike him again, or whatever. He walked backwards everywhere, since that would put him at a disadvantage, which no one would be expecting. Everyone knows the author of this book cannot do proper foreshadowing.

Kein walked slowly backwards past the door of the Central Bank just as a group of men ran out, single file running face first into a gun and killing themselves.
How's that for foreshadowing SUCKAAAAAA. Checkov would be proud.

After Kine got rid of Chechov's gun in the nearest waste recepticle, a dog came bounding up to him, full of energy, full of life, quite unlike the group of men on the street.

The dog stepped just all over them in his effort to get to know this cool new stranger. "Krine" the dog said, "that's a strange name, who gave it to you? Also can I see some ID?"

Ktone looked down at the floor sheepishly and mumbled something about a father that he was ashamed of.

WHAT WAS THAT NOW SONNY?? The dog barked in his face.

I said "My father is a Weed, ok? He got sick one day and just woke up like that. At least he didn't turn into a Cockroach" (hey jim, that would've made for a terrible story don't you think?? our plot twists are better) (NOTE TO PAM - remove all these notes before we publish).

The dog looked up at klib mournfully. "I'm really sorry to hear that" he barked. "My dad was a dog".

The two stared at each other. Kilib patted the dog on his head and began to walk away. The dog walked in circles a couple times before settling down to take a nap on top of the pile of corpses.

Caleb (that was really truly his name, ok? no more changes prolly) rolled his eyes, which at this point were gettin kind of tired and droopy, and then he walked into the nearest bunkbed shop, where they often let him sleep on the top bunk (which his MOM never let him do when he was younger). He didn't need to pay because the owner was his uncle who had the same name as him. Clabub.

The owner looked up from reading Taxes 2: You and the Big Guy and said "hey naleb, what are you doing here? It's barely past noon. You usually stay out and about until at least 3".

Nikrum said "well my eyes are getting all droopy see, so if I don't take a quick power nap I'm afraid that someone will think i'm squinting if they don't look at me in a very eyes wide open way".

Owner Clabub nodded sagely, showing a profound understanding and connection with his namesake nephew. "I done know that's how you orchestrate your life, and it's right smart, boy. You know you always have a place in my heart. I know home life can be hard with that Weed of a father blocking out the sunlight that should be beating down on your head with great blessings of abundant joy - HALLELUJAH!"

Nikrum (or nick as he was sometimes... wait... hang on a sec...).

I'm beginning to think that I've been duped. I shall not continue this farce any longer or my editors will be qui

HAVE YOU OR A LOVED ONE EVER ENJOYED READING A STORY ABOUT A GUY WHOSE NAME WAS DEFINITELY NIKRUM AND NOT ANYTHING SHORTER THAN THAT?

TEXT "CUT IT OUT BRO" TO 111 222 notarealphonenumber@website.com.

So anyways, Numblum took a quick nap and his eyes snapped right back open again, super duper wide as all eyes should be.

As he ventured back out onto the blackened pavement outside (it had been raining all through the night, and firefighters had been called to purge away all that illegal rainwater with fire that they kept in the lockboxes mounted to the side of their firetrucks), he noticed that the morning was a little gloomy. It was like the clouds had become a different shape. The shape of sad.

He walked super gloomily through the blazing infernos on the sidewalk, kicking the occasional pebble and muttering to himself.

"Nap", "you really need to get it together".

The band called "it" had just broken up last winter, and it was Nubbers' favourite artist. THey had produced smash hits like "No One Likes Thursdays", "It Is Legally Mandated That You Do Not Enjoy Thursdays", and "All My Plates Have Eggs On Them, And I Only Wanted Fries", and all the coolest kids had tattoos of the bands logo inked onto their hips. Frogs eating potato chips.

That thing I just told you is relevant because Noobs favourite song was playing on the radio as he entered a nearby iced-cream parlour and ordered his usual.

As he waited for his food, he stared out of the window, into the pouring rain and swarms of policemen, idly drawing pictures into the thick dust of the table.

The waitress walked over and deposited a large plate of eggs in front of Nerb and gave him an affectionate noogie.

Noggle didn't particularly like those types of head rubs, but he took it. His dad always told him to "have a stiff upper lip, son!" (unfortunately he heard "stiff upper lid") Ever since then, Nogpin had been wearing an oversize pot lid on his head, and his excuse was that it protected him from rain on Tuesdays and the food portions that were thrown out of rich politicians' apartment windows high above on Fridays (They called those days of the week Floppedy Fridays, because it was almost always Fish that the politicians threw out - which is pretty catholic if you ask me)

Nerp looked up at the smiling face of Matilda The Waitress, 6th of her name.
"Matilda", he said... "6th of my name", she interjected...
"Do you ever wonder why we all get up in the morning? Do you really enjoy serving me eggs at this ice-cream parlour?"

"Ever since my late hubby-pie-honey-suckle-bun-pudding-pop of a husband left me for the PEARLY GATES as he loved to call them, I fondly recall how our picture outside slowly morphed and faded into what now looks like an egg that's broken open instead of a vanilla ice cream cone." She sighed dispassionately. "I just couldn't bear to take down that beautiful sign. It reminds me of him, you know? He always did smell a bit like eggs."

She sighed a bit more passionately. "On the other hand, I do find it quite frustrating that I need to keep buying truckloads of ice-cream every week, this being an ice-cream shop after all, and everyone keeps coming in here and ordering eggs. It's quite irritating now that you bring it up. It's nice that I have something to fling from the rooftops on Friday, but it's getting a bit expensive."

"Anyway", she sighed, back at a regular amount of passion, "it's closing time all of a sudden so you need to go".

Nellaponshibust left without another word. Once Matilda (6TH OF MY NAME she yelled after me) got a thought in her mind, you best listen, or you'd get another noogie or perhaps an egg cracked on your head. Everyone in our gigantic town knows that that is bad luck.

N walked back to his apartment mystified that his Wednesday had already gotten so out of hand, and to boot his father was not back from "burning the midnight oil with the boys" up the street either.

As he stared at the large W in the middle of his calendar, a tingling sensation began to creep up his spine.
If he had taken a nap at noon on a tuesday, it could not possibly be...

Nooo woke up with a start in the top bunk of the bunk bed store. His entirely empty stomach was growling for eggs.

Clabub was rattling on the pipes beside Nurrrrrr's bed, shouting "YURS, YOU GOTTA WAKED UP, ME BOY, YUR DAD HAS COME BACK FROM PRISON!"

SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT. "Eat your eggs and get going son!".

"You gotta cook them first..." Yorbs grumbled... He jumped up from his bed, smacking his head on the ceiling for good luck, and rushed out the door, eager to see just a LIDDLE BIT of that dad's beautiful green face smiling (or flapping?) back at him lovingly.

Chapter 3 (this is the first one, we just put it in the wrong place):

Table of contents:
- some stuff you have already read
- some stuff you are about to read
- some stuff you likely will not read (don't read any Negative Chapters, if you come across them)

Chapter -2:

Chapter 9 (continued):

Noose rushed as backwardsly as he could towards the prison, wanting to meet his father as he was released.
But as he rounded the corner towards the short stocky handcuff shaped building, he found himself in a large crowd of people who could not be descripted.

An entirely ordinary looking man whose upper lip looked rather sparkly said "hey boy, aren't you Big Jimbo Dank's son?"

Nausoleum sighed magnanimously, lifting his arms to the sky in mock protest, then agreed begrudgingly: "Yes, and it seems that I the apple did indeed fall close to his foliage". He knew it was impossible to hide his true identity from the people of their gigantic town, especially because they all knew his greatgrandad Trattivarius The Second who was famed for his great love of eggs and bacon which got cooked JUST RIGHT on the hot pavement on hot Friday afternoons.

Mokelum, who everyone knows was named after his great grandfather, looked the entire crowd dead in the eyes (such was the strength of his opened vision) and said: "Today I'm going to make an announcement in front of God and you all"

At that moment, the prison doors opened and his father the Weed walked into the street a free man or plant or whatever.

"Oh hey dad, want to head over to Matilda's and have a nice plate of Eggs over complete lack of ice-cream? I'm starving, all I've had to eat are those tiny fragments of egg that land in my mouth when Clabeb tries to wake me up with breakfast in bed in afternoon"

"Sure son", said the big wobbly leaf person, "that sounds great to me".

Makaleeshi thought he heard some shrill voice floating out to them from somewhere yonder say "6th of my name!" but they ran out of earshot quickly so they didn't have to deal with no more of Matilda's sass. They just opened up a new icecream parlour that only served eggs, and they (Madunska and his dad, that is) lived basically normal lives for the rest of their lives.

Extrolude:
What you are about to have finished reading, or what you are soon to be able to say I have read, is a book that you have not yet read.

If you've gotten this far, you have the patience of a stallion, the wideness of a slightly foolish otter, and a great deal of free time on your hands.

These are the last words in the book that you have not read.

Except for these ones.

Table of contents:
- some stuff you have already read
- some stuff you are about to read
- some stuff you likely will not read (don't read any Negative Chapters, if you come across them)

Chapter 3 Concluded.

The Final End has Ended.

Bye now, pudding-pop-lovely-bun-jammy-dodger-munchkin-cake-daloola!

-- Nick (it was me the whole time)
-- and Weed