Wait.....what? Where am I? Who the fuck are you? Is......is this a van with no windows? Why are my pants off? What is this powdery residue in my nostrils? What the fuck just happened?
That's how I felt after reading David Wong's John Dies At The End. All I know is that I woke up in the back of a van, with a seriously druggy hangover, my pants are around my ankles and certain parts of me are in need of medical attention. I'm not sure what went on but I'm pretty sure gp and his army of gays were involved. They also may have brought a horse judging from how my throat hurts. I'll admit, I'm not even sure how I'm supposed to review this cluster fuck except to say that I enjoyed the hell out of it and I'm a little ashamed to say so.
David and John are best friend. They're a pretty unlikely duo as David is a pretty reasonable character. He's mellow, reasonable and thoughtful with the exception of few psychotic episodes but John is bat-shit, balls to the wall, I don't give a fuck, crazy. They share an affliction with each other that nobody else has, well, at least nobody that's still alive. They see and hear things. Really fucking strange, perverted, fucked up things. No, you don't get it, really wacked out shit. It all started on night at a party that John's band was playing at. While David is chasing after Molly, a stray dog, and as the band is finishing their opening number, Camel Holocaust, David runs into a Jamaican doing magic tricks for teenage girls. As David is always up for making a douche look like a douche, he begins picking apart the wanna be magicians tricks, but this magician seems to know way too much about David. After being made to look like a bitch, David mingles with the other party-goers and runs into Jennifer Lopez. Yes the Jennifer Lopez from high school, not the one with the big booty although this Jennifer's booty is just fine. She blows him off so David goes to find John as the band is finished playing. John and some people are going to a party with The Jamaican but David has to work in the morning so he passes on the festivities and returns to his car, where the stray dog is waiting for him.
After settling down and falling into a lovely and deep slumber, David is awoken by a strange phone call from John. He rushes over to Johns apartment where all hell has broken loose. John is convinced that there is something nefarious in his apartment and is determined to escape to Denny's where they'll be safe. Oh yeah, John appears to be fucking whacked out of his mind and at Denny's things get a little weirder. John tells David about the party with the Jamaican guy and the strange drug he gave him. David's phone rings in the middle of John's story so he answers it; it's John. But John is sitting right across from him. "What?" says David, "Fuck! Someone's at the door."
I don't even know where the fuck to go from there. It's probably the most gloriously mind-fucked piece of literature I've ever read. There's floating, exploding dogs that come back from the dead. There's creatures from who the hell knows where. There's swearing, and I do mean swearing; dude makes me look like a nun. There's drugs and sex and violence and guns and explosive diarrhea and jellyfish and missing limbs and mutant grasshoppers and retardation and different dimensions and a sausage phone.......no, not a phone shaped like a sausage. A fucking bratwurst that is used as a phone. It's funny in a laugh out loud kind of way and disjointed and choppy and alot of it makes absolutely no fucking sense. It was hard to read simply because it took it's multiple headed penis and stuck it squarely in my ear-hole but it's probably the most original book I've read in years. If your looking for a good time, a healthy helping of contemporary references and good old fashion Limp Bizkit bashing, give it a try. Now, please excuse me, I have to go and get this spiked slug checked out.
SADdness and the Light at the End of the Tunnel
10 years ago
Okay, I'll make you a deal: you review Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and I'll read this book. Because as far as I can tell, the authors may actually be related, by drugs if not birth.
ReplyDeleteSoooo I think I'll skip this one. I'm allergic to waking up in the backs of vans. And since I'm a mom and trying to set a good example I also try not to wake up with my pants around my ankles. But I'm really glad you got to have this experience.
ReplyDelete♥Spot
'There's floating, exploding dogs that come back from the dead. '
ReplyDeleteSounds like my kind of book...and it's been ages since I woke up with my pants around my ankles....ah the good old days!
Leave it you to make me want to read a book I would otherwise have never even heard of ...
ReplyDeleteI dunno about the actual book, but review rocked!
Yeah, I'm reading this...
ReplyDeletethat were no horse, that was HB!
ReplyDelete