Chapter 1

Michael Morlock was not an ordinary boy. In fact, he was quite the opposite. If he were the subject of a nature channel special, he would most likely be characterized as the animal ostracized from his herd. His body was overly rotund and weak from lack of exercise. His eyes were genetically inferior, making him prone to the necessity of eye wear. And due to these and a few other factors, his mind was gripped by an almost constant sense of apprehension and expectation of rejection.

Michael Morlock was a born loser. He had never been popular, and if matters has persisted on their current course, he most likely never would have been. But matters did not persist as Michael expected. Instead, they made a rather interesting turn in a new direction on a morning which seemed like any other. It was a Tuesday morning. And once again, his alarm clock was ringing belligerently in his ear all too early.

"Damn it!" Michael cursed as he fumbled to disarm the wail of his alarm.

Once it was turned off, he sat up on the edge of his bed and took a long, weary breath. Michael was not overly joyed to see the start of a new day. Especially a school day. As each of those tended to be heavily spiced with rejection, humiliation and episodes of being punched in the stomach.

As Michael reached for his glasses on the night stand, a deep sonorous voice suddenly echoed in his mind. "You shall not require these any longer. See clearly, my son."

Michael's hand was frozen in mid-air, and his mouth hung open in startlement. His eyes, which before had perceived only a dull blur all around him, now suddenly picked up detail and sharpness of image. Everything around him came into sharp focus. To his quickly increasing confusion, his vision now seemed to be normal.

Michael's eyes widened and he quickly looked back and forth, seeking out the source of the deep voice. "What the fuck was that?"

"Fear not, for it is I, your Father. I have returned victorious from distant battles against our nemesis. He is now slain, and you are free to be released from illusion and hiding." The voice echoed.

Feeling like a fool, but pushing forward regardless, Michael replied to the invisible presence. "I don't understand. You think you're my Father? And you're releasing me from what?"

"Your mind is still clouded, my son. This is to be expected. Your soul has been guarded by illusion and deception for several thousand years. I regret the consequences, but would perform the act again without hesitation. For doing so spared your life from the ever searching gaze of our nemesis. What better way to hide the presence of a god's son, than by disguising him as the opposite of everything godhood personifies. Surely, you must have suffered under this yoke of mediocrity. But fear not, for all your godly splendor shall be restored in a short while." The voice instructed him.

Michael started to panic. "Oh fuck. It's the pot! It has to be the fucking pot I tried last night. God damn it! The first fucking time I give in and try some of that shit and I wake up as nutty as Mom's fruit cake. Christ! All those stupid "After-School" specials were right after all. I did drugs and now I'm insane!" Michael jumped up from his bed and ran to the bathroom down the hall.

Once he'd reached the bathroom door, he swung it open, rushed inside and stuck his head under the faucet's cold water. "Oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck!" He chanted as he soaked his face in the frigid current.