If

By Gabriel Archer

Attention parents! Tired of teaching your children the difference between right and wrong? Don't have the time to keep your kids out of trouble? Don't trust the sub-par education system? Get MetaFic. Inc's patented IF Chip today!

Its a simple out-patient procedure covered by most major health insurance providers! Painless and fast!

The IF Chip's patented synoptic technology reacts with your child's neural cortex to create an imaginary friend fully customizable by you. Together with our imaginary experts, you will choose the fantastical companion and settings right for your child's particular needs.

Your child may choose from such imaginary pals as kittens, puppies, rabbits (our best selling model!), fairies, squirrels, princesses (an instant classic), superheroes (may cause heights-related injuries), lamas or even a camel (our best selling Middle Eastern model).

Choose your own religion setting from "fanatical _____" to "rabid atheist." Choose your child's intellectual setting from "future Nobel prize winner" to "at least she's pretty." Select our premium "problem child" setting and watch as your child becomes a model citizen with our special "Mild Mind Mend Meld" therapy .

Come to our imaginarium centers for a free consultation today, or e-mail us with questions and comments.

From MetaFic, Inc.

Warning: Not FDA approved. Long term effects of the IF Chip have not been studied. MetaFic, Inc. disclaims all uses for a specific purpose. Not recommended for kids over 16. May cause psychological defects and mental scarring. Requires immature mature sense of humor. May lead to slight sexual stimulation. Not recommended for camels. Best read naked.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gabriel Archer
• Release date: Oct 15, 2012

Gabriel Archer

Captain Gabriel Archer, IX, Ph. D., Esq. is a world-class lothario. There is a high probability that he slept with your wife or - if you are a beautiful woman - you. Mr. Archer is an expert marksman and can shoot an a amoeba off a fly's head. He practices law in NYC for fun. He is the first sword of the Empire. He endorses self-reliance over political candidates. His hobbies include your wife (or, quite possibly, you, Mrs. Dear Reader); writing realistic magicalism, a genre he single-handedly invented with co-author and sidekick, Jack Canaan; creating fictitious and utterly true autobiographies; and breathlessly staring at the mirror. He has an advance doctorate in armchair philosophy and has spent years learning to make armchairs from Buddhist monks high in Himalayan mountains. He looks striking in a tuxedo. Although warned many times not to, he went there. He also discovered Martha's Vineyard in 1602. Sir Jack Canaan ibn Hatzel, Sr., M. D. is a world-class lotahrio. There is a high probability that he slept with one of the women you know, or - if you are that woman - you. He is so pleasant that imaginary friends invented him for company. Dr. Canaan has worked for every single intelligence agency in the world, often double- and triple-crossing himself to the point that he remained loyal. He is a veteran of the First Angelic War and the Second Lebanese War. His hobbies include pleasing dear readers; writing realistic magicalism, a genre he single-handedly invented with co-author and sidekick, Gabriel Archer; ripping wings off angels; and unmasking hypocrisies. Ancient Canaan is named after him. He once had a date with destiny, but stood her up in favor of ménage à trois with fate and karma. He does everything better naked.

Book preview

I.F.

by

Gabriel Archer & Jack Canaan

Smashwords Edition

Copyright©2012 MetaFic, Inc.

All rights reserved.

My whole life I've been trying to reverse the effects of the IF. Not the if only I hadn't dumped Kathy and not the if only I studied harder in college but the big if, as in: what if I never got the IF Chip. That chip is the reason I went to med school; that's why my marriage went to shit; and it's why I'm still staring at the monitors, analyzing EEG charts and MRI's of the brain.

The coffee's cold, the glare of the monitors sharp. The cigarettes keep pilling up in the ashtray. I rub my forehead. I feel like I'm close. Just a few more adjustments and i'll get it. The cure. For me, for all of us - the imaginary generation. But the equations don't add up. I'm missing something.

Maybe you're missing a hug? asks Mr. Fuzzy. I squeeze my teeth together but keep working.

Dicky, are you missing a hug? Mr. Fuzzy asks again. He's using that annoying kids-show voice on purpose. He knows I hate it when he does that. Dicky, lets sing a song together.

Fuck off, I offer in singsong. I'm working here, I say and turn to him. A six-foot plush camel is staring at me, batting its huge innocent eyes. I switch back to the monitors and pick up my yellow pad, crisscrossed with my notes, the gibberish of my exuberant fantasies. Then I light up another cigarette.

Got one of those for me, Dicky? Sharing means caring, you know. The camel comes closer and nuzzles my arm. I know it's all in my mind, I know better than anyone else that he's just a figment of my imagination - how the psychosomatic effect forms in the mind, stimulating just the