John Dies At The End

Solving the following riddle

will reveal the awful secret

behind the universe,

assuming you do not go

utterly mad in the attempt.

Say you have an axe... just a

cheap one from home depot.

On one bitter winter day

you use said axe

to behead a man.

Don't worry...

the man's already dead.

Maybe you should worry, 'cause

you're the one who shot him.

He'd been a big twitchy guy

with veined skin

stretched over swollen biceps,

tattoo of a swastika

on his tongue.

And you're chopping off

his head because

even with eight

bullet holes in him,

you're pretty sure he's about

to spring back to his feet

and eat the look of terror

right off your face.

You now have a broken axe.

So you go

to the hardware store...

explaining away the dark reddish

stains on the handle as barbeque sauce.

The repaired axe sits

undisturbed in your house

until the next spring

when one rainy morning...

So you grab your trusty axe and chop

the thing into several pieces.

On the last blow, however...

Of course a chipped head means yet

another trip to the hardware store.

As soon as you get home with

your newly-headed axe though...

You meet the reanimated body of

the guy you beheaded last year,

only he's got a new head

stitched on with what looks like

plastic weed-trimmer line and

wears that unique expression

of you're-the-man-who-killed-

me-last-winter resentment

that one so rarely encounters

in everyday life.

So you brandish your axe.

That's the axe that slayed me.

Is he right?

My name is David Wong.

I once saw a man's

kidney grow tentacles,

tear itself out of a

ragged hole in his back

and go slapping

across my kitchen floor.

But that's another story.

More side effects.

It's always like this

when I'm on the sauce.

I dosed six hours ago.

My count had 5,829 grains

of rice on her plate.

The rice was grown in Arkansas.

The guy who ran

the John Deere harvester

was nicknamed Cooter.

I'm not a genius.

I'm not a psychic either.

Just side effects, that's all.

David Wong?

David Wong?

What, did you doze off there?

Hey, you're...

you're Arnie, right?

Arnie Blondestone.

Sorry I'm late.

You don't look Asian,

Mr. Wong.

I'm not.

I was born right here.

Had my last name changed though.

Thought it'd make me harder to find.

You know that Wong is the most

common surname in the world?

Mmm. Is your family

still around?

No, I was adopted.

I never knew my real dad.

You could be my dad

for all I know.

Are you my dad?

Uh...

I don't think so, no.

Anyway, my adopted family

moved away.

I won't tell you

where they went, but...

Get out your pen, 'cause you're

gonna wanna write this down.

My biological mom,

she was institutionalized.

Must've been hard.

She was a strung-out,

crank-addicted cannibal,

dabbled in vampirism

and necromancy.

Blew her welfare check

every month on black candles.

Really? And I thought

my mom was bad

because she wouldn't

let me watch "space ghost."

- You pulling my leg?

- No, this is just what I do when I get nervous.

Um, she was bipolar,

that's all.

Couldn't keep a house. But isn't

the other story better though?

- I think you should use that.

- I thought you wanted

to get the truth out,

your side of it.

If not, what are we even

doing here, Mr. Wong?

You're right. Sorry.

So you guys are...

you're what?

You're some kind

of spiritualists?

Exorcists?

Something like that?

- I could blow your world

- Away, Arnie.

If I show you

what's in this container,

you'll never feel at one

with the human race

until the day you die.

You ever sh*t yourself, Arnie?

'Cause you would've if you'd

been there last night.

He's a seeker of truth

in an age of fear.

Marconi.

He is willing to face down

- the legions of evil.

- Marconi.

He will help his fellow man

to find a path into the light.

Marconi.

- Hello?

- Hey, this is John.

Your pimp says bring

the crack shipment tonight

or he'll be forced

to stick you.

Meet him where we buried

the Korean whore...

the one without the goatee.

That was John's code.

It meant "bring your gear

and come to my place"

as soon as you can.

It's important."

John, it's 3:
00

in the morning, man.

Oh, and don't forget...

tomorrow's the day

we kill the president.

John.

That last part was code

for "stop and pick me up

some beer on the way."

Dave. Come in.

Dave, this is Shelly.

She needs our help.

So, Shelly, tell us your story.

It's my boyfriend.

He won't leave me alone.

He's been harassing me

for the past week.

I'm terrified to go home.

- Miss...

- Morris.

Miss Morris,

I'd strongly recommend

a women's shelter.

They can help you get

- a restraining order...

- My boyfriend...

Has been dead for two months.

I didn't know where else to go.

I heard through a friend

that you guys handle...

Unusual problems.

Shelly, when he comes,

you can see him?

Yes, and I can hear him.

- He hits you?

- Man, what a dick!

Shelly, in our experience,

spiritual beings that

can manipulate objects

in the physical world are rare.

Uh, look, miss Morris,

I really don't think...

I told her that we'd

look into this tonight.

I thought that maybe

you and I could go over there

and show this bastard

what's what.

So where do you see him mostly?

In the basement.

And once in the bathroom

when I was on the toilet,

- he stuck his hand through the seat once.

- Okay, just...

just show us the basement door.

It's that way.

Well...

- He's not here.

- Big surprise.

She seems like

a nice girl, doesn't she?

She reminds me of Amber...

Amy's friend.

When she came to my door tonight I

actually thought it was her for a second.

Oh, by the way, Dave, I wanted

to thank you for coming along.

I'm not saying I'm gonna take advantage

of her distress or anything, but...

Aw, jeez.

Ooh.

Guy must've been a hunter.

Wait. John.

Did I hear you say that you thought

that she looked like Amber?

- Yeah.

- John, Amber's almost as tall as me.

Like, just under six feet,

blonde hair, kinda top-heavy.

Yeah, I know. She's

cute as hell, right?

Yeah, and you think

that Shelly looks like her?

- The girl sitting upstairs?

- Yeah.

John, Shelly's short.

Short with dark hair,

blue eyes.

God damn it. I knew she

was too good to be true.

Uh, Shelly.

John and I are having

a bit of a problem here.

We're both seeing completely

different versions of you.

Now John here

has eyesight problems

'cause of his constant

masturbation, but I don't think...

oh! God!

Ah! Oh!

Ah! Ah! Oh.

- That door cannot be opened!

- No.

They love to play games,

don't they?

It's all they have time for.

You disappoint me. All

these years we've dueled.

You will never

defeat me, Marconi.

Wait, Dr. Albert Marconi?

The guy who hosts

the magical mystery show

on the culture channel?

Dumbass. Marconi?

Marconi's like 50 years old.

They guy's got white hair.

We're not your Nemesis.

Okay, I'll tell you what... if we

can get you in touch with Marconi

so you two can work out your little

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