The Happiest Man on Earth

Chapter 1

It was eleven O’clock at night when I saw John Goodwill picking up an empty can of fizzy-dry
soda and a dead pigeon. John, who intriguingly thought of these two to be objects of hot desire,
became hot-blooded with a jagged grin that widened his mouth as if his jaw was being ripped in
two. I hid behind two bushes from this horrific sight and bobbled beneath the bushes hoping he
didn’t see me. When I collected my thoughts and looked up I saw him gorging upon the dead
pigeon’s head. He quickly slurped the stringy intestines and bit through the chest area of the poor
creature. He bit out the heart and with a plopping noise he swallowed the heart whole with
maniacal satisfaction as if it was a meal specifically meant for him. He held the empty can with
both hands in opposite directions and began separating the can in two with such inhuman
strength. Upon breaking the soda can, jagged pointed spikes were formed. He licked the pointy
shards with his long lathering tongue and began licking the salty carbonated goodness of the
fizzy soda can. I began slowly backing away from this horrific sight but then, suddenly out of the
blue, John’s head slowly turned three hundred sixty degrees facing my direction and with a
chilling voice he uttered: “Food always tastes delicious with a bit of oozing salty tang from your
eyeballs”. I bolted out of the bushes and ran hurriedly back to my car not stopping for a gasp of
air. I heard grievous thumping noises from behind me, and a shrieking laughter that pierced my
ears and sent shivers down the grooves of my hair. When I reached the safety of my car I
panicked and fiddled the keys in my pocket and dropped them from the onset. I bent down to
reach my keys under the car but I suddenly felt a ghastly voice from the back of my neck and
gooey drops that raced down to my spine. I slowly looked up to find John Goodwill’s jagged
smile. His hands malformed into long beastly claws that touched the ground, his curved feet
riddled with sharp and pointed spines that protruded from his hinds. He grabbed my neck with
his arm and pierced my chest with the other as if toying with a lump of flesh. The writhing pain
echoed within my body and I was consumed with agony. I could feel the sharp and bulky claws
fumbling and jumbling my bones in crumbling arrangements. Every orifice of my body oozed
out blood and other liquids not well known to human experience. No human should ever see
blood spewing in multiple directions. I wanted to scream but my mouth could only utter
inaudible grunts of writhing pain and pitches of pitiful whimpering. At that moment I wished for
my head to black out but the pain was like a sharp noise blasting point-blank into your ears, only
this time it was my bones being mangled left and right. Every part of my body from my head
down to my loins was at the mercy of this abomination guised in the happy husk of a human
being. My eyes fixated on John’s monstrous face made me brace for hell on earth. His chainsaw-
like teeth still fresh with pigeon blood and metal shards from the can were ready to receive the
meat from my bones. John’s mouth opened wide with his head tilted backwards and my eyes
meeting the bottomless abyss that was John’s grotesque frame. This was John Goodwill, the
happiest man on Earth.
In a blink of an eye I awoke in my bed feeling dazed as if I didn’t get any sleep at all. My room
still smells of lavender from the freshener I just bought 2 days ago. My blankets drenched in
sweat as if I ran a marathon without stopping for water. I was back in my cramped apartment
safe and sound. I felt a nauseous from a debilitating headache as I got up from bed. My mind still
wrought with images of John Goodwill’s jagged smile, his briskly claws, his long lathering
tongue, and I just couldn’t fathom it all. Was that all just a dream? It felt so real. Who is John
Goodwill? To my surprise I got off from my bed and went to the bathroom to wash my face. I
looked in the mirror to see my hung over face from last night’s office party. I don’t think that
alcohol could make someone so drunk to get a ticket to dream land’s least favourite destination. I
still felt uneasy because it all felt so real that I could just feel my head being sucked into that
vortex of death. But I can’t think of any of this just yet, I have to get to work. I faintly remember
the project that was due today and I hurriedly put my clothes and went straight for the door. I
picked up my suit case filled with files and gizmos when I noticed reddish hues spewing from
the door. A rotten smell enveloped the apartment and I suddenly felt dazed and woozy. A
menacing aura can be felt and I was overpowered by this sense of dread that was emanating from
the door. My vision slowly dwindled and swirls of colors were present in my peripheral. This
psychedelic feeling warped my sense of balance and I could barely keep my legs standing.
Suddenly my room began to change in figure. I can hear pulses as if a heart was beating in the
very ground I was standing on. The walls began to turn into red flesh that secreted red hues to
which I can only assume is blood. I knew for a fact then that whatever was waiting for me
beyond this door would be a harrowing experience. Suddenly large teethy structures sprung up
from the fleshy ground beneath me. The room began morphing more into a grotesque
amalgamation of veins and soft tissues as if I was stuck inside a living breathing heart. My nose
felt as if it was stung by millions of bees as a pungent metallic smell began to pollute the room. I
couldn’t take this disgusting sight any longer; I bolted straight for the door and opened to find a
long cascading stairway heading downwards. When I looked back I saw the teething spikes
bursting out to my direction. I didn’t hesitate to throw away my briefcase and I went down the
stairs hoping it leads me out of this nightmare.

I kept heading downward. The walls were pitch black and no light seemed to emanate from my
surroundings yet for some odd reason I knew that I was climbing down what was an endless
flight of stairs leading to God knows where. Luckily I knew that the teeth were no longer
following me yet I still feel uneasy. I have been walking down these steps for what seemed like
hours. There was no light, no time, not even a glimpse of the end of these stairs. I felt my
stomach rumbling as if my stomach was ready to swallow itself whole. Fears began to resurface
as I remember the darkness of John’s gruesome mouth. I was still dreaming there was no doubt
about it but why does it feel all too real? My mind could not grasp the severity of this situation.
Am I going insane? My senses began to dull as I keep taking each step downward to the abyss.
As I headed deeper and deeper I heard a strange ringing noise from the walls and the deeper I got
the ringing noise got louder. My ears began to bleed to the deafening frequencies of the ringing.
My head scrambling to move even an inch down without having my ears suffocate from this
dreadful fate. Then suddenly the noises stopped and an ominous silence consumed me. Then
little whispers were uttered at me from all directions, I halted my journey. It was as if many
people were talking behind my back. Their conniving banter filling the room, their venomous
tongues intoxicating conversations of their victim of the day and time there would only be
surmised as office hours. These whispers were all too common. The whispers got louder and
louder and the pictures of the past grew ever more vivid. “They stole my Files!” “They took my
promotion!” These voices stirred within me emotions that were all familiar to me yet my control
was holding me back. My time spent in idle work without getting as much as a word of thanks.
Yet my colleagues so intoxicated by their alcohol and shady underwork who flamboyantly
trotted to work day by day get wild applauses from the higher-ups. Why must I wallow beneath
my hole of self-pity? Why must my hands be dented and bruised from my monotonous pitter-
patter on the keyboard and be expected to do all that again the next morning. The balances that
need checking, the coffee that would be the enabling drug that keeps me awake in these long
clashes with hell. I rue the day I stepped into that office, oh the boss so giddy with his promises,
the voluptuous secretary that greeted me. It was all too common. My mind warped into what was
a fleeting fantasy of success, and the aftermath of going back to the four walled apartment that
trapped me with no one to console me but my despicable self in the mirror. The long series of
episodic monologues in the shower washing away the sweat and tears but not the depravity of
my soul, I long to be free but what picture of freedom should I look for? I shouted profanities to
the bathroom walls and wailed imaginary arguments to bosses and managers in the reflections of
my mind. The image of drunken men crowding on in the office sickens me to the core. No
amount of hatred could ever satisfy my temple of anger and its demand of bloody sacrifice. How
it longs for brutal discussions to escalate to murderous outbursts. Truly in a world so corrupt
from the peace it champions violence seems to be the logical conclusion. If at all I would’ve
welcomed John’s devouring embrace if I had remembered all this. How I understood at that
moment of death’s sweet release, who was John Goodwill again? The hatred in my eyes lit up
the room I was in to find the stairs all gone. I was in a long winding room flooded with gunky
sewer water accompanied by 3 deformed figures the size of pigs that looked like pre-mature
infants each with their distinguishing features. They were all in front of me in all their grotesque
glory. Their slimy hands drooled strange whitish liquid wielding with them a different weapon.
These monsters don’t appear to be hostile. When I approached them they began moaning in short
intervals, each monster had a different kind of moan to separate itself from its brothers. I noticed
that they were all limp seeing as they each had a large leg and one small leg that made them
move in a pudgy manner. They had horrid faces covered in malignant growths that seemed to
flare up at any moment. Their backs were swelled like a hunchback’s and their naked members
dangling before me. They were bathing in the gunky sewer water and delighting in each other’s
company. In a moment they noticed me and one of them made a hand gesture for me to come
closer. I reluctantly obliged. “You are John Goodwill’s spawn, are you not?” said the larger one.
I was taken aback by such a question, how did he know about John? Why was I a ‘spawn’ of
John Goodwill? What is with this character? Who is John Goodwill? How did I suddenly know
his name out of the blue and why do I know he looked like the monster in my dream? These
putrid fellows seem to have an idea of the hell I’ve been through. “You are wondering who John
Goodwill is, are you not?”