A writer's journey

I'm not ready for this

Imagine this…

You're standing on alien soil, surrounded by creatures with their genitals where their heads should be, and their actual heads dangling awkwardly between their thighs.

Most of them stare at you like they’d bite your head off if given the chance. A few examine you like mad scientists who just discovered a new lab rat. And one—just one—looks at you with eyes full of affection and tenderness.

Now… how would you feel?

Like waking up from a bad dream? Like yanking a hidden camera from the sky and screaming “Who’s directing this horror movie?!”

Well, I felt worse. Every time I looked at the green, wiggly thing hanging from Diana’s "head," I wanted to scream.

…

Somehow, I ended up in a completely different world after Diana and her crew literally walked into a tree. Just stepped inside it like it was a door to Narnia.

At first, I felt great. The air was crisp, almost magical. I breathed in, and it felt like my stress, fatigue, and trauma evaporated from my nostrils.

Then, my six-foot-tall monster wife dropped me off her shoulder—and so did my fantasies of peace and freedom. They died right there, crushed by gravity and reality.

Princess Diana gazed at me, smiling with all thirty-two of her pearly whites. And when a creature with its face between its thighs flashes you a romantic smile? Let’s just say I now know what real psychological damage feels like.

I looked to the sky and prayed. Not for riches. Not for freedom.

I prayed that whatever god was protecting this realm would protect my virgin butthole from any unexpected “marital traditions.”

My heart was open. My eyes were closed. I was the image of pure spiritual devotion.

Then I opened my eyes—and instantly regretted it.

The sky was green. Green. Not a hint of blue. Even the clouds had given up on normalcy and joined the madness.

I looked down and started sweating rivers. I don’t know if it was the three blood-red suns overhead or the sea of monsters packed tighter than sardines, all staring at me, but my body turned into a human faucet.

Every single one of them had glowing blue eyes aimed in my direction.

You might ask, “How do you know they were looking at you?”

Well, I don’t usually look down on people, but in this case, their “heads” were literally at my waist level. I had no choice.

Their voices buzzed like a marketplace:

“What?! Am I seeing double?” one monster gasped.

“What’s the big deal? You’ve never seen a human?” another snapped.

“No—look again. He’s different,” the first replied.

“You’re right. He’s the most handsome being I’ve ever seen. If he weren’t with the princess, I’d have already kidnapped him and bred a whole line of sexy babies.”

Before she could continue that charming fantasy, a young voice cut in:

“MOM! How many stepdads do I have already?! I don’t even know how many siblings I’ve got! If you bring home another man, we’ll strangle him!”

Then, another voice added with eerie finality:

“Can’t you all see it? The seal. The sacred mark. The Princess has chosen him. He bears the symbol of power, the royal stamp only given on wedding night.”

Just as the crowd reached peak madness, Diana raised her hand, and silence fell like magic.

“I, Princess Diana of the Green Spirit Clan, proclaim to you all today that I have found the rib of my ribs, the bone of my bones, the controller of my throne. Today, I present to you the future ruler of our kingdom… my husband-to-be… John.”

She pulled me into a hug. I nearly kissed that green appendage dangling from her “head.” I felt my soul leave my body again—this time with a one-way ticket.

The crowd erupted with cheers, gasps, protests, and… death threats.

“This can’t stand! I must win the princess back!”

“Who is this squishy little man? What hole did he crawl out of? Point me there and I’ll burn his village to ash!”

“Only a warrior can rule this land! He's not even seven feet tall! Over my dead body!”

“Who dares snatch a woman from Amadioha, the Spirit Crusher?! COME FORTH AND DIE!”

A nine-foot-tall monster stomped out of the crowd, challenging… well, me.

I looked left.

I looked right.

No one else stepped forward.

It was me.

Of course, it was me.

Nobody asked for my opinion, my consent, my will to survive. I didn’t even want the princess!

I turned to her for help, hoping she’d step in. But she had already floated a few feet away like she barely knew me.

“Sorry, honey. It’s tradition. Every suitor must survive a trial by combat. Even my father can’t stop it.”

Wow.

I remembered all those motivational quotes from social media gurus:

“A goat can defeat a lion—with courage.”

“A snail can outrun a leopard—with perseverance.”

“Heroes are made, not born.”

So I took a deep breath…

And silently chanted:

“Please let this goat survive.”