Last year I wrote a story that touched the hearts of millions and is currently being adapted for film by none other than James Cameron himself. Am I a literary genius? Yes. Have I gotten anything published? No. But I think this story speaks for itself:
Super Skag
By James Senior
It’s a Monday morning. I’m watching cartoons. I sigh as another five minutes of pointless adverts appear on my screen. They want to sell me cars that will get me laid. Or a burger that beats any orgasm or your money back. And then I see it. It blows my mind. Nothing quite says Britain like a commercial for Heroin. A man returns from work to find his wife nagging and his children begging for attention. “Ever wish you could just take a vacation in your mind?” the advert asks. “Well wish no further. Now you can heat up a spoon in the comfort of your local Tesco. Super Skag. It’s super Heroin for super people.” The rest of the advert consisted of a dark room, a smiling man and his spoon. I was instantly hooked. I saw a cartoon man at the bottom of the screen standing in front of the flag of Great Britain. He was looking at me, staring right at me. It was almost as if he was saying, “come on England. Come get some Super Skag. Oh but you won’t. You don’t have the balls.” I stood up and looked right into the little cartoon man’s face. I lifted my balls up, one in each hand, and yelled, “YES! I WILL!” Needless to say, my daughter was shocked. I’ve really got to stop watching TV with my kids.
The following week was an intense, hardcore training montage worthy of any Rocky movie. Except Rocky V. That movie really sucked ass. With the help of my friend Bekka, a girl who loves Crack Cocaine more than she loves her own son, I whipped my body into the worst shape it’s ever been. I’d do a bong and a litre of White Rum before every meal. I’d take an Acid tab before any school play. I’d do a line of Cocaine before every carpool. I’d stick Crystal Meth under my eyelids before I went to work. I was on a mission. This was my calling. This was why God put me on this Earth. I’d be damned if the Super Skag was going to defeat me. Finally, on Sunday night, I downed a half bottle of Jager along with two handfuls of uppers and downers that consisted of about every colour of the rainbow. I only OD’d for nine minutes. I was ready.
It was Monday. The clock read 3PM. I stood in front of my local Tesco, fists planted firmly on my hips, my cape billowing softly in the wind. Yes, that’s right. I was wearing a cape! Bekka stood behind me with an I-Pod playing “You’re the Best Around” from the Karate Kid soundtrack on loop. I walked in and headed right for the counter, passing all the people waiting to pay. They yelled something that sounded like, “get the fuck to the back of the line,” but I ignored them. I reached the checkout, pushing a 70 year old lady to the ground. This was no time for coffin-dodgers. I had a job to do! “Sir," the spotty virgin at the checkout said to me. “You have to join the back of the queue.” I grabbed him by the shirt, and shouted, “get me some Super Skag!” The crowd fell silent. All eyes were on me now. The cashier, trembling like a little girl, asked, “our spoon or your own?” With my ring hand I slapped the spotty virgin across the face. “Do I look like the sort of man who walks around with a spoon?” I released his shirt and he stumbled off into the stockroom.
I turned and walked toward the nearest beanbag and as I walked, I caught snippets of the whispered conversations nearby. “Super Skag…” “Crazy…” “Suicide…” “Nice ass…” I sat down and I tried to focus on the task at hand. Bekka blew a bit of Crack in my general direction as she uttered words of encouragement and Joe Esposito kept telling me how I was the best around. Nothing's ever gonna keep me down. After a few minutes the spotty virgin returned and set a batch of Super Skag down on the floor, along with a spoon. The cartoon man sat in the centre of the box, his cocky grin still pissing me off. “You can’t do it James,” he was saying to me inside my head. “Go home and smoke some Weed. You can’t handle what’s in here. This is Super Skag for super people.” So! Mind games. That’s how it’s gonna be. I picked up the spoon and held it in front of my face, placing as much Super Skag as I could fit on it whilst doing my best to ignore the gasps of amazement from the ever watching crowd. They were scared, holding their breath. This is how Superman must feel before he saves a white person. "Bring it on," I whispered, and injected the Heroin.
I’ll be honest with you. At first I felt hardly anything. I began to wonder what all the fuss was about. The crowd were leaning in to see my response. The needle was still dangling from my arm like Michael Jackson’s baby. And then it hit me. It felt even more euphoric than when a dog licks Peanut Butter off your balls. I gave a thumbs up. The crowd, as one, let out the collective breath it had been holding for what seemed like hours. I took a second hit and then I found myself staring at the floor. My heart beat so hard that I thought it might break open my chest. I’m sitting there, on a beanbag, with a grim look across my face. I’ve got this ocean of sweat across my forehead. I’m using every ounce of control I've got not to vomit all over the floor. I’m itching all over. I’m ready to explode. Bekka, towel ready, started dabbing me around my glistening face.
On the third hit, disaster struck. I slumped in the beanbag as I felt a sudden pain in my chest. It was hard to breathe. My peripheral vision became fuzzy. Having established a safe word with Bekka in the event that my heart stopped during this battle, I gasped "Barbara Streisand" and she punched me as hard as she could in the chest. I took a deep breath and my vision shot back to clarity. I sat back up in the beanbag. Rage swelled up within me. The Super Skag had tried to kill me. Who’d have thought Heroin could be bad for you? Now it was personal. I took another hit. The crowd cheered.
With two hits left, it was time to bring forth my coupe de grâce. Tucked into my belt and hidden under my cape was an I-Pod. I passed it to my friend Bekka. “Stick this on. This is an emergency.” She knew the drill. Within moments the sound of Justin Beiber’s singing flooded our ears. Somewhere in the back of the crowd a few people screamed. I knew no person alive could pass out when this whiny little turdburger was singing. The sound was horrible, but it was a risk I had to take. Stupid? Maybe. Dangerous? Definitely. Unnecessary? I think not. I was there to prove a God damned point!
The Heroin was taking a hold of me. All I wanted to do was roll around in a duvet and touch puppies. I had to act quickly. I stuck the last hit into my arm and hit the plunger. As the Super Skag swirled through my blood, my life flashed before my eyes. I looked back on my many accomplishments, the first time I had sex, the first day I got married, the day I held my first child, but I knew this was the greatest moment of my life. I waited for my legs to regain feeling and then I stood. The crowed broke into uproarious applause. People grabbed my hand to shake it. Children reached out to touch my legs. Grown men cried openly in each other's arms.
I sensed myself about to vomit. Bekka must have sensed it too because before I can even get a kids phone number she’s ducking me under her arm and giving me support as I hobbled out the door. She took me around the side of the building where no one could see us. She looked at me intensely, smiling before saying, “it’s okay James. You did it. Just let it all go.” With the greatest effort I've ever mustered in my life, I regurgitated breakfast, dinner and supper all over the floor beneath us. It slid down the alley, coming to rest in a gutter.
My entire torso felt weak, wanting to force the Super Skag from out of my body. Through sheer force of will I managed to look up into my friends face and saw tears welling up in her eyes. We never have and never will be closer than we were in that moment. She witnessed me defeat evil that day. Even with the chunks of sick still clearly visible on my cape, nobody would ever believe us. She helped me down the street. At the corner I stopped and turned to her. Our eyes met. “You going to roll a joint or what?”
The End
A beautiful story. It brings tears to my eyes every time I read it. I'm James Senior and you've just being reading my pointless blog!
