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 9

Dr. Chiribada,

 Forgive me for being crass, but I can’t take this crap any longer. Is it possible for a man to be in love with two women at once? Given how I feel right now, I’m convinced that the answer is yes and this tears me apart in a very figurative way. If only I could have both the love and current marriage of my wife and the understanding and down-dirty freakiness of Penelope. Is that too much to ask for? Well, combining your idea and mine, it may not be.

 Do you recall the amount of times Fonzie dated two girls at once? On my count it was four if you count the Aloha Pussycats (and why wouldn’t you?). He even dated 2 sets of triplets! Well if the Fonz could get three SISTERS to date him at once, certainly some average Joe wearing that magical suit of armor known as Fonzie’s jacket could handle TWO UNRELATED gals. RIGHT?!

 I’m going to do it, Dr. Chiribada. I’m beginning to plan now and should be ready to pull the job off within a week. If you have any suggestions for me before I go, make sure to get back to me quickly. If not, the next time you talk to me, I’m going to be the coolest, least-plumaged dude this side of Arnold’s Diner.

God speed,
Steve

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 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 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

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