Prologue:
My name is Barry Baxter.
I’m not your average citizen. People have mistaken me for an overweight, comic book-obsessed nerd who bludges off the government. And, okay, sure, they’d be right about that.
But ... but … what you wouldn’t guess from looking at me is that I have a very particular set of skills. And no, not in the Liam Neeson sort of way—though I’d kick his arse any day of the week. No, my skills lie less in my physical strength, of which I have almost none—wouldn’t want it anyway—and more in my cool-as-shit imagination.
You see, I can do stuff with my mind. Not just think about things happening—actually make them happen. Things outside of my mind, I mean; just by imagining it. Wild, right? Sounds like something you’d hear from a bloke trying to sell dodgy crystals at a market stall. But trust me, it’s real. This is the first time I’m putting pen to paper about all that has transpired. About the imaginings, about the pygmy possums, about Kevin. Or, as we now refer to him, “that bastard, Kevin.”
Let’s see … Where to begin? Last year, on a stinking hot day in December, my cousin Sarah and I were sitting outside a funeral parlor. Not for fun. We don’t sit outside of funeral parlors for fun. Our uncle had just died, you see? Anyway, we were talking and stuff and I was just getting up to leave when this little pygmy possum ran up to me and crawled onto my lap. Just like that. Weird, right? Didn’t coax it or anything. It wasn’t like I had a sandwich on me or something—bloody love sandwiches—it just came right at me, like it’d been waiting for me all day.
Sarah was all like, “wow, how weird,” and I was like, “what’s weird about it? Animals are super into me.” And she was like, “animals are super into you?” Like it was a dumb thing to say, you know? But I was all like, “that’s right, animals are super into me.”
Anyway, I was patting it with my finger when the thing, out of nowhere, bit me. Little bastard. Anyway, long story short, it gave me superpowers.
It took me a while to notice, but after the bite, things I casually imagined started happening in real life. Like, I’d picture a cold drink in my hand, and bam—it was there. Freaked me out, not gonna lie. My imagination wasn’t just running wild; it was actually making things happen, like my mind had a magic switch. And once I realized that, things got pretty interesting.