anaphylactic shock
There is no other high like this-this rush of adrenaline-it just grabs hold of you and it’s better than drugs, it’s better than sex, its better than fucking everything.
The dealer shoves the pile of chips towards me and fuck yeah I almost lost it all but oh no no I just won it all.
There’s a groan to my left followed by the scratching screech of the wooden leg of a wooden chair sliding across the checkered linoleum floors. “That’s it,” says The Groaner. “I’m out.”
To my right, a mini flurry of cards fly from the veiny hands that had just been holding them so guardedly. “Same,” says The Thrower.
“Aw, come on guys!” This is coming from my center, from me. “Just one more round!” In my head, I rechristen The Groaner as Quitter #1 and The Thrower as Quitter #2. “Quitters never win,” I tell them.
“Yeah, and they never lose, either,” Quitter #1 retorts. “I’ve got no money left to play.”
“That’s cool, I’ll lend you some.”
“Naw, man, I’m done for tonight.”Chipless Quitter #1 shoves his way through the crowd and out the door, so I turn to Quitter #2.
“You in?”
“Nope.” Quitter #2 gathers their few remaining chips and goes to cash them in.
I sigh and scoop up my heftier-than-usual pile to do the same, shoving the cash in my pocket and pinching a pair of keys out of some woman’s purse as I leave the smoky room.
Outside in the parking lot, I press the button on the battery-operated key and walk over to the headlights that blink in response.
“A BMW,” I say to nobody and nothing but the cool night air that wraps around me. “Nice.” I climb into the driver’s seat, turn the key in the ignition, but let the car idle for a minute while I pull down the opera mirror and examine my face.
I seriously need to shave, and a decent night’s sleep could really help those bags under my eyes. A tiny little pimple has found its way onto my chin-I thought I outgrew that shit in college. Whatever. I squeeze it till it pops then pull out onto the near-empty streets of nocturnal suburbia.
After a while, running red light after red light gets tiresome, so I let the car drift to the side.
Headlights are coming at me now.
The person inside that car throws their hand down on the horn while I inside this car throw my foot down on the accelerator pedal.
My grip on the steering wheel tightens as the thrill kicks in-my body is dumping my fix straight into my veins, making a deliciously cold shiver thrum up and down my spine like a sloshing bucket of ice water.
“Yes…yes…yes…”
At the last possible moment I swerve out of the way, wrecking the pristine BMW on the most conveniently-placed telephone pole in the history of lethally-placed telephone poles.
I climb from the vehicle unscathed.
Fuck, it’s good to be alive.xxx
july 2008
The dealer shoves the pile of chips towards me and fuck yeah I almost lost it all but oh no no I just won it all.
There’s a groan to my left followed by the scratching screech of the wooden leg of a wooden chair sliding across the checkered linoleum floors. “That’s it,” says The Groaner. “I’m out.”
To my right, a mini flurry of cards fly from the veiny hands that had just been holding them so guardedly. “Same,” says The Thrower.
“Aw, come on guys!” This is coming from my center, from me. “Just one more round!” In my head, I rechristen The Groaner as Quitter #1 and The Thrower as Quitter #2. “Quitters never win,” I tell them.
“Yeah, and they never lose, either,” Quitter #1 retorts. “I’ve got no money left to play.”
“That’s cool, I’ll lend you some.”
“Naw, man, I’m done for tonight.”Chipless Quitter #1 shoves his way through the crowd and out the door, so I turn to Quitter #2.
“You in?”
“Nope.” Quitter #2 gathers their few remaining chips and goes to cash them in.
I sigh and scoop up my heftier-than-usual pile to do the same, shoving the cash in my pocket and pinching a pair of keys out of some woman’s purse as I leave the smoky room.
Outside in the parking lot, I press the button on the battery-operated key and walk over to the headlights that blink in response.
“A BMW,” I say to nobody and nothing but the cool night air that wraps around me. “Nice.” I climb into the driver’s seat, turn the key in the ignition, but let the car idle for a minute while I pull down the opera mirror and examine my face.
I seriously need to shave, and a decent night’s sleep could really help those bags under my eyes. A tiny little pimple has found its way onto my chin-I thought I outgrew that shit in college. Whatever. I squeeze it till it pops then pull out onto the near-empty streets of nocturnal suburbia.
After a while, running red light after red light gets tiresome, so I let the car drift to the side.
Headlights are coming at me now.
The person inside that car throws their hand down on the horn while I inside this car throw my foot down on the accelerator pedal.
My grip on the steering wheel tightens as the thrill kicks in-my body is dumping my fix straight into my veins, making a deliciously cold shiver thrum up and down my spine like a sloshing bucket of ice water.
“Yes…yes…yes…”
At the last possible moment I swerve out of the way, wrecking the pristine BMW on the most conveniently-placed telephone pole in the history of lethally-placed telephone poles.
I climb from the vehicle unscathed.
Fuck, it’s good to be alive.xxx
july 2008