A smudge appears from the blinding light. It is a priest, garbed in psychedelic robes, looking like a melange of Jerry Garcia and a Pope. He spreads his hands wide, and the light abruptly dims. "You have come," he says, "as prophesied."
The cathedral that glitters behind the priest is beautiful. I stumble past him into a circular chamber portraying scenes from my life. My rock star era. My physical marriage to a shark, and the gift of the magic cowboy hat. My ex-wives, all thirteen of them. When size DDs enameled in gold peers from the narthex of a church dedicated to you, you've lived, by God, you have!
The priest smiles, and beckons you to come to the far end of the chamber. A shaft of light illuminates an altar, upon which lies a massive book. "The Book of Awesome," intones the priest reverently, echoing the murmuring of people who have flocked in behind me. "Who built this? Who made that?" I ask, my eyes still hungrily tracing the decadence.
"You did," says the priest. "You built the House Which Was Built By Awesome. You wrote the Book." The Book lies, spread open at his fingers. I gape. I'm becoming awesomer by the moment. I go to the book.
I flip page after page, drinking in the chapter titles: The Genesis of Awesomeness, The Awesome Transfiguration of Awesome, When The World Was Really Awesome, The Book of Awesome, It Gets More Awesome, Thou Shalt Awesome, Shock and Awe, The Trials of Awesome, Awesome Awesome, The Ballad of Awesome, and finally, The Death of Awesome.
My God, I can't get more awesome than this. I'm not listening, engrossed as I am in my awesomeness, but I catch the tail end of the priest's speech: "...come to save us from the evil scourge of He Who Must Not Be Named—" Everyone cringes. "—is Awesome, as prophesied!"
"What the fuck..."
"You must go hence into the wilderness first thing now, to face He Who Must Not Be Named!" Everyone cringes.
"What, now? I had figured on hitting the Awesome Bar and Grill for a brewski and anything that's not a fucking Happy Meal."
"No! You must go forth at once, and deliver us, as prophesied!"
"Ditching beer and babes for a camping trip? Who the fuck wrote the prophecy? He sounds like a fucking dick!"
"You did, Awesome! The prophecy states, Awesome shall come..." Oh, fuck this shit. I fiddle with my time machine watch. "...save the people from this hellish scourge..." Nothing happens. What the hell? I try again and again. "...combat He Who Must Not Be Named—" Everyone cringes. "—and recover the part needed for his broken time machine watch."
"We have prepared a horse for you, and some supplies as well."
"A horse? Can't I have one of these badass ninja bikes I saw on the way here?"
"It is prophesied that thou shall go forth to battle He Who Must Not Be Named—" Everyone cringes. "—on a brisk steed with mad rolling eyes riding into the reddening horizon as we cheer you on!"
"How medieval. Not even one beer?"
There is a resounding no.
I'm starting to get real pissed. "Damn. Who is this He Who Must Not Be Named?" Everyone cringes.
The Priest steps up and says, "It is prophesied that he appears after thou have gone into the wasteland to battle him."
"Uhh. How about I don't go and he won't be such a scourge?"
"It is prophesied thou shalt go!"
If I was starting to get real pissed, my pissed off was getting real pissed, and at this point I start being really fucking juvenile. "He Who Must Not Be Named!" Everyone cringes. "He Who Must Not Be Named!" Everyone cringes. "He Who Must Not Be—" everyone cringes. "— gotcha, bitches!" I feel dramatically better and am all ripped to get my damn time machine watch fixed.
I am bouncing on my horse, who does actually has mad rolling eyes, and a little bit of foam coming from its mouth. The horizon is reddening like a case of extreme pink eye. In my knapsack there is enough food for three days. They also have given me a whip. I leave the city and enter the barren wasteland, passing stunted trees and the ruins of townships. The glittering techno City of Awesome recedes behind me like an island on an unforgiving sea. A smell has started to seep in the air, something infinitely more foul-odoured than myself. I wonder what has happened here.
I am to ride to the phantom choked cemetery that comes before the desert and utter these words Blaatu Narada Kinto at the Tombstone of Awesome. "Do not forget these words," implored the priest before I set off on this inane quest. "Pronounce the words exactly, or all is lost to He Who Must Not Be Named!" Everyone cringed. Geesh.
The gravestone of Awesome looms above me in the sepulchral darkness, a marble sculpture of myself holding an impressive pose in my gimp suit and magic cowboy hat, a pose which I mirror from the ground. A heavy fog rolls in, shrouding the graveyard with wisps of misty ghosts. The epitaph, gleaming in the moonmist, states simply: He Died Awesomely.
I stand proud and utter with unflappable confidence from the top of whatever passes for my lungs the words.
"Flaatu Narado Kinta!"