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.


Dr. William Chirabada III

The Worst Disease Ever – Letter 1

Dear Dr. Chirabada,

I am writing to you in a time of dire need. My situation is clearly worsening by the day and I fear that soon this… ailment… will overtake my entire body. My local doctor’s insistence on taking a teaspoonful of cat food ever 3 hours only worsened the situation as well as increased my distaste for liver and codfish. I am in dire need of your expertise and you come highly recommended by the other “experts” I saw. I use the VERY sarcastic quotes because my diagnosis always came with no cure.

It all started about 2 months ago when I got this sudden, weird craving for sesame seeds. Its weird because I’ve never eaten sesame seeds before. At McDonald’s I always asked for two bottom buns because those bastard seeds are the number two suspect of “things that get stuck in your teeth when you eat an everything bagel” behind poppies. Not long after I started to get really itchy and my voice cracked like I was going through reverse puberty. I thought to myself “REVERSE PUBERTY?! IS THERE ANYTHING IN THE WORLD WORSE THAN GOING BACK TO MY DAYS OF DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS AND ASTHMA ATTACKS AROUND GIRLS?!?!?!” Well Dr. Chirabada, there is something worse, and its the disease I’ve contracted.

I’m turning into a bird.

I don’t know how it happened. Its not like I spend a lot of time around birds. In fact, if you asked me “What’s your least favorite animal?” I’d tell you with no hesitation, “Birds, fucking birds, man.” You can see the predicament that I’m in. The last thing I want to become is one of those disease infested, high-pitched squealing, shameless random defecating Squawk-boxes.

So, Dr. Chirabada, I turn to you, the expert on Avian Anthropomorphization. And yes, I looked up two bigger words that meant “a person turning into a bird.” Its difficult to explain how terrified I am of this malady.

Help me, Dr. Chirabada. You’re my only hope.

With great hope,
Steve Chirpinsberg