The Worst Disease Ever – Letter 11

Dr. Chiribada,

Things are really great here in Tijuana. The weather is consistently beachy and the locals are extremely accepting of out-of-towners as long as you’re willing to spend money. My wife and Penelope are getting used to our new lavish lifestyle as well as their sharing of me.

OH SHIT! I absolutely forgot to tell you what happened. You’ll have to forgive me, it’s been a hectic two weeks as you can probably tell. Let me explain:

After your last letter’s pep-talk, I decided that it was do-or-be-a-bird-dude for me, so that very day I got myself a bus ticket and high-tailed it to the Smithsonian. I left my wife a note explaining the whole situation and told her that if she really loved me she would support my robbing the Smithsonian and seeing Penelope. She admitted that after reading the note she burned all my belongings in a huge bonfire on the front lawn. However, everything has worked out just as I had suspected.

So I sauntered into the Smithsonian during regular hours and located the Fonz’s jacket among some classic television memorabilia. There was one chumpish looking security guard standing in the corner who I was pretty sure I could take if necessary. So I grabbed the jacket, set off the alarm, threw it on and WHAM!

Haha, you like that dramatic pause, huh?

I turned into a full-blown birdman. Think Big Bird if he joined a non-violent biker gang. I was as astonished as I’m sure you are right now. After giving myself time to think about it, I suppose I was born to be a birdman. If you can believe it, flying is pretty fucking cool.

Everyone in the museum reacted how most people who just saw someone steal a priceless piece of Americana and turn into a birdman react – the screamed their heads off and ran away. As a newly turned winged-beast/felon, I of course grabbed some more exhibits like Archie Bunker’s recliner, “Jeannie’s” super-sexy costume, and Lassie’s taxidermed body, among other things. I flew all the way home, grabbed my wife and Penelope and headed South.

Oddly enough, there’s an enormous demand for American TV set pieces in the Mexican black market. I made myself a hefty amount of dinero and bought myself a small villa on the hill.

Dr. Chiribada, thank you. Thank you so much. If it weren’t for your suggestion, I’d just be some loser slowly turning into a bird while cheating on his wife. And now… now I’m a super-rich bird-man with two chicks. TWO CHICKS, MAN!

Good luck with all of your future anthropomorphizational endeavors.

Respectfully,
Steve Chirpinsberg

The Worst Disease Ever – Letter 7

Dr. Chiribada,

Your plan of stealing the Fonz’s jacket, albeit basically impossible to actually pull off, sounds as legitimate of a cure as any of the other ridiculous things you’ve made me do so far. I really wish there was an alternative like, I don’t know, a pill or surgery or exposing myself to extreme amounts of radiation. Are you sure this is my only chance for a cure?

If it comes down to it, I guess I’ll have to try, but I know my wife won’t be too excited about the larceny. I did my best this week to drop subtle hints about it like, “You know what would be cool? Stealing a very expensive piece of television history.” She’d laugh it off and call me douche bag just like all those times I dropped subtle hints about having a threesome. I don’t think she’ll ever understand, Bill. Maybe I should end things before things get REALLY messy, like, messier than me leaving down all over the bathroom sink when I shave or freaking out when she was cooking eggs for breakfast. Maybe she’s not the right gal for me.

You know who is an awesome gal?! Penelope Pogwater. She’d probably like stealing expensive memorabilia out of a museum just as much as she likes sleeping with bird-dudes. Which is, to say, quite a bit. I know you keep telling me to break it off, but its SOO HAAAAAAAAARD BECAUSE SHE’S SOOOOOOO IN TO ME! It’s been so long since someone thought I was really cool. Not since that time I beat Mega Man 2 in front of my 7 year old cousin. I was king of the world back then, Willy. KING I TELLS YA!

 Tweet-Dee Tweedle Dee Dee. Flee Do Dee Do Twee Do Dee. Twee Deet dee dee dee Tweet de tweedle do dee deet.

 Whoa, that was weird. It just kinda came out. Help…

 -StevBERKAW!

The Worst Disease Ever – Letter 6

Steve,

First off, that clearly drunk, clearly cross-dressing dude was hot. And there’s no shame in wanting a piece of that. I don’t discriminate: hot lady, hot man, hot cross dressing lady/man — it’s all good.

But, back to the topic at hand: Ms. Penelope Pogwater. Now, I had no intention on making this crazy bender something that would cause you to CHEAT ON YOUR WIFE. I was only hoping for some crazy fun, some macho one-eyebrow-raising, and some harmless flirting. You’ve got to play it cool, like Arthur Fonzerelli. Do you think he was having sex with all those girls he was with? NO. He was just necking a bit, and keeping Mrs. C proud. You overstepped your boundary here, Steve.

That being said, all hope’s not lost. What I need you to do is STOP having weird furry sex with Penelope! That’s only going to further your transformation into a bird. If you begin to develop real feelings for Penelope, your body is going to go into bird-overload, knowing that this is the only way to keep her.

Next step is to tell your wife the truth: tell her that the “tests” your doctor recommended was a bender. Tell her your Avian Anthropomorphism is getting worse. Tell her that she needs to help you steal Fonzie’s jacket from the Smithsonian museum.

Then, once she says “yes,” and “I love you, Steve” and “that Dr. Chiribada sounds like one sexlicious beast of a man,” you go take Fonzie’s jacket (and tell her that she’s right about me). I believe that once you have his jacket on you, your feathering will reverse itself. But you’re going to have to really…REALLY act like The Fonz. I want you non-stop watching reruns of Happy Days (I prefer past season 1, but before the infamous jumping-of-the-shark). Learn his mannerisms and take his teachings to heart.

When you get that leather jacket on your back, you may feel a jolt. That jolt is your body beginning to reject the feathers. Then, right then and there, your feathers should explode off your body. It won’t be a pretty sight (think pillow-fight on speed), and it may sting a little bit; but, luckily for you, the explosion of feathers may act like a smoke bomb: shielding you from the police and allowing your escape from the museum without criminal charges pressed against you.

Plus, the heist has an added benefit of being very macho, and that should do nothing but help your situation.

If this doesn’t work, I’m afraid your problem may be chronic and irreversible. In which case, you’ll be lucky if your wife doesn’t kill you and serve you grilled atop a bed of garlic sauteed spinach after you tell her you cheated on her.

Best of luck.

– Dr. William Chiribada III

The Worst Disease Ever – Letter 5

Dr. Chiribada,

In the words of the late, great Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, “OH WHAT A NIGHT!”

My evening-out-turned-2-day-love-bender seems to have really done the trick for me. Sure, I’m still slowly becoming the a real-life version of Foghorn Leghorn, but after having met Ms. Penelope Pogwater, that may not be such a terrible thing. The things that happened once we left you to your hitting on that clearly drunk, clearly cross-dressing dude would make you slightly uncomfortable. But, since you’re a professional and you probably need to know about it for your research, I’ll tell you anyway.

Penelope walked into O’Malley’s at about the same time we finished our third set of shots of “Satan’s Knee Puss.” Maybe it was the Windex in the shots doing their thing to me, but I KNEW that I had to talk to her. I strutted over to her with more confidence than I’ve had in forever. We chatted, I bought her a couple of drinks. As I’m reaching for her hand to test the waters, my shirt-sleeve button gets caught on her bracelet and this young hottie I’ve been working the magic on gets a face full of down.

“This is it,” I thought, “this is where she freaks out, calls me a weird bird-freak-guy and runs.” But she didn’t. In fact, she grabbed my hand, called me a weird bird-freak-guy, and dragged me out the bar door to her place. From there we started our two day love-making, tequila-guzzling, sesame seed-gourging festival that ended when I realized that I HAVE A FAMILY HOLY SHIT!

So apparently there’s this group of people called furries. I think its a bit odd, but they like to dress up as animals and have sex in their costumes. Penelope is one of these people. I’m just as perplexed with it as you are right now.

I got home and told my wife I spent the last couple days having tests done and here I am, writing you, telling you that I cheated on my wife who won’t have sex with me because I’m a birdman with someone who won’t stop having sex with me because I’m a birdman. By the way, the symptoms haven’t reversed. Suggestions? Advice?

I look forward to you solving this terrible problem for me, Doctor. Thank you.

-Steve

The Worst Disease Ever – Letter 4

Steve,

Geez, I guess your situation is deteriorating worse than I had hoped it would. That’s cool though, I’m still your man.

If the all steak-and-porno lifestyle didn’t help, then more drastic measures need to be taken in order to ensure you stop turning into some lame-ass bird.

I may have to see you.

Do you know why I picked my specialty, Steve? Diagnostic Anthropomorphism intrigues me because I can’t see why anyone would want to be anything other than a human. I mean, we can eat a-whole-lotta steaks, have hedonistic sex, even have crazy hot hedonistic steak sex! That still may be a little advanced for you though.

But, in the end, I definitely think you can just stop turning into a bird if you remembered how to be manly. I think ultimately, your problem is a lack of confidence. That’s why I have to see you personally and prescribe you 1000mg of WILD-BENDER.

I noticed that we live near each other. Meet me this upcoming Friday downtown, on main street, in front of that new bar O’Malley’s. Wear something that you’d normally wear if you wanted to get chicks to turn their heads your way. If feathers are poking their way through your arms and legs, I definitely say to continue wearing the long-sleeved shirts. I know what ladies want, and they sure as hell don’t want some stupid birdman walking their way. I’m sure that this bender is not only going to cure you, but it’ll also make every damn dolphin trainer you work with quite jealous.

Oh, and don’t tell anyone you’re a dolphin trainer. That shit’s stupid. This Friday your profession is going to be: Guy Who Sets Lions on Fire With His Dick. Say you work in Vegas and people won’t think twice about it. Crazy shit goes down in Vegas.

You said you’d do anything to remedy your situation. Now PROVE IT.

Quit being a feathered douchebag,

– Dr. William Chiribada III

The Worst Disease Ever – Letter 3

Dear Dr. Chiribada,

I appreciate how quickly your response time was. My situation has deteriorated since I last wrote you. There are actual feathers poking their way out of my arms and legs and the seed cravings increase in intensity day after day. I’ve been wearing long-sleeved shirts and slacks to work everyday, and as a dolphin trainer this is extremely unusual and uncomfortable. Dr. Chiribada, please tell me that I won’t have to kill myself before I transform into that disgusting creature I’ve grown to hate.

My ManUp Points, as they apparently call it in the medical business, would put former NHL enforcer Dave Schultz to shame. I’m surprised that the amount of steaks I’ve eaten haven’t turned me into a cow and the porno has been a staple of my life since my wife stopped sleeping with me for fear of Avian Flu. There have still been no improvements. Unfortunately, the handful of D20’s that have been in my pocket where ever I go have gotten me beaten up more than that time I wore that Dokken shirt senior year of high school.  I’m no doctor, but maybe that’s been counteracting the treatment.

I’m scared. If there is anything that I can help you with to remedy my situation I would be more than happy to do it. Just please, keep me from being a bird. I’ve been fighting off the urge to type “CRAAAAAAAAAAW” the entire time I’ve been writing this.

With all my admiration and terror,
Steve

The Worst Disease Ever – Letter 2

Dear Steve,

Normally, a doctor of my caliber does not take just any case that strolls in through the door. It needs to be something special. And by special, I mean REALLY special. You know Dr. House? I make his department look like a pediatrics ward full of sneezes, coughs, and common colds. Just last year, I cured a renegade bolt of lightning falsely accused of murder (I even got the charges reversed…and NO, that is not an electricity pun).

It’s true that I am highly specialized. Diagnostic Anthropomorphism is not something you see on the business cards of Doctors Joe and Jane RunOfTheMill. But, as the other experts you saw have told you, it IS the title on the business card of one Dr. William Chirabada III.

It comes as no surprise to me that while the people you saw are experts, they were not able to cure you. Compared to me, they’re shit. Stupid pieces of shit trying to cling on to their puny “everyday” specialties like Oncology, Ontology, or Psychology. Psssh. Those men and women you saw were simpletons compared to the genius writing you this letter.

That being said, I will take your case. HOWEVER, I will not see you physically. And not only because the idea of a man turning into a bird is freaky and messed up, but because I don’t like to see my patients. You all get too clingy with your “Help me Dr. Chirabada. You’re my only hope,” or your “please dear GOD, I’m bleeding to death! SAVE ME!” Please. I’ve got hookers to bang, buddy.

So, first things first. You mentioned Reverse Puberty. I’m going to need to you buy a few D20 (that’s a twenty-sided polyhedral die in case you’re not down with the lingo). In order to help ward off the Reverse Puberty from attacking your now-bird-like frame, you’ll need to roll the 3 icosahedron dice each morning. Add the numbers you get from the first two and subtract from that the number you roll on the third die. This will be how many steaks you need to eat in the day.

Steaks are a measure of manliness — enough of that stupid sesame seed business. The body has a unique way of remembering how to stop being some douchebag birdman. This seemingly random chance is actually a strategic method to counteract your potential backwards aging while supplying you with steak, or ManUp Points as we call it in the Diagnostic Anthropomorphism business.

Oh, and if you happen to get a negative number — say you roll two 1’s and then a 12, giving you negative 10 — you will instead remove the negative and buy that many porno mags. And try to buy something HUMAN. I don’t want to see any magazines with furry fetish photos of big bird sexin’ up a lady bird, you got it?

Do that for two days and write back to me about how you’re feeling.

Oh, and if you get thirsty, drink some beer.

Sincerely,

Dr. William Chirabada III