alvarojmarquez

0 comments by alvarojmarquez on Aug 2nd, 2009 digg this super bookmark

If I told you that some four months ago I was a successful lawyer would you believe me? I thought so, but that’s the truth nevertheless. If not, then why are you here if not to know the story behind my fall to this place? Don’t be ashamed, I’m willing to tell it. Here, drink some water.

Everything began that fatidic Saturday. I had gone with some friends the night before for some carousing, we drank a fucking lot of alcohol, had some nice sex with three expensive whores – which were gorgeous and dressed in some fine wear, and man, God bless the Kamasutra – and fought with two assholes for hell knows what. I barely remember what happened after we took our way home, but my friends told me that I stayed in the park close to my apartment to smoke some pot – I never smoke in my apartment y’know, kinda bothers my lousy neighbors, or bothered, but we’ll get into that later –. Now that I think about it, that was the wildest night ever. I woke up the next day, or to be more precise, night. The image of me looking at the mirror comes very clearly to my mind, it seemed as if I had just come out from a fucking trainwreck. There were small stains of blood in my shirt, but nothing to worry about. What really worried me at the moment was the tummy ache, motherfucker never hurt like that before! Shit, I couldn’t even stand straight y’know!

More water? Here, serve yourself. Ok, so, where was I? Oh right! All that kept on happening, except for the extreme partying of course; it wouldn’t be so damn strange if not so. At first it only happened at Saturdays, but then it covered other days and began affecting my job. When you’re a lawyer like I was, you cannot afford missing a meeting with a client; this thing had begun destroying my life. Some very strange stuff happened that first month. I remember once when I stopped a cab for a ride, the guy accelerated full speed with screeching tires and all, like in the movies, as if I had scared the crap outta him. Hell that was weird!

Ok, so, one day, during the seventh week, a friend from work told me that Shirley, one of the pretty bitches we used to visit, had mysteriously disappeared the week before. I was getting used to the strange events from the past weeks, so when he told me that, it didn’t sound so mysterious to me; I thought that maybe some jackass kidnapped her and was fucking her tight pretty pussy in that moment, or chopped her and buried her limbs in different places. My mind was already straying from the right path by the time. What really called for my attention was that I experienced no strange occurrences that week, and I felt a little guilt for that. I went to my parents’ farm that weekend to tell them my little secret and that’s when they gave me the “good” news: They had bought three boars. Yeah, I gave them that same kind of stare, that what-the-fuck-why-not-an-alligator-or-a-hyenna?-gees-you’re-crazy kind of stare. Now, I told them everything and my mom said what every mom would say, “don’t worry son, you’ll find a way to work around that”. I guess I did.

Ok, so, when I left my parents’ farm, I was headed home, and then it struck again. I had left Sunday evening and woke up in my bed Monday evening. Again the small stains of blood, the contusions in my body and the fucking tummy ache; I had lost count by then, it might well be the tenth, fifteenth or even twentieth “trainwreck” I had survived; whichever it was, it was well over the fifth. I called my boss that night, and he just told me to take a vacation, that I deserved some free time to reorganize my life and shake all the stress off, and I did just that, the former I mean. I turned on the TV after speaking with him, and then it struck me like a bat in the face. I was watching the local news when they said that strange disappearances were happening in the city, and that even though the victims were only prostitutes at first, last night the daughter of the owner of one of the most influential Buffets on NYC had disappeared just like the prostitutes had, by leaving no trace behind. Here, let me give you some more water. Oh, I forgot to tell you, when I woke up I had a very beautiful gold bracelet in my hand, guess whose it was. And now guess whom her father was boss to.

Ok, so, at last I had begun to realize what the fuck was happening to me so I took a shower and went for a walk that night. I wanted to go shopping, maybe buy some useless stuff; we’re in the US after all. The hallway outside my apartment was especially dark; I needed to replace the bulb, the janitor never did. I took the stairs because the elevator was kinda dangerous and just wanted to take a walk after all, and when I exited the building, the night was just as busy as any other NYC night; but it would soon get a lot busier. A set myself on the way to the 125th St Station and before arriving, when crossing the St Nicholas Ave, something happened. The pedestrian traffic light was on “stop”, with the little guy standing still, the cars drove past me, as they should. I waited for the light to turn to “walk” and the little guy to begin walking, and they did, but as I was crossing the street, the little guy started to move absurdly fast, and the light turned to “run”. That scared the crap outta me. Fast forward to the station, there were not many people in it, at least not as many as in the rush hours, and even less people took the car I took. I didn’t want to get too fast to SoHo. What? Oh, sorry. Yeah, I was on my way to SoHo.

Ok, so, here I was on the metro car with a few more guys and gals, most youngsters, and two or three bums. No one was staring at no one. Everyone seemed to be minding his or her own business, except me. I gave a look at a girl; she was very pretty, wearing a denim skirt with a black blouse and a denim jacket over it. Beside her was this bum facing the other end of the car, I gave him a long look; there was something amiss with him but I couldn’t point it out. It took me the good part of 5 minutes to realize that he wasn’t moving at all, HE WAS LIKE A FUCKING GHOST SITTING IN THERE NOT AFFECTED BY PHYSICS AND STUFF! Then he turned his head, and I saw it – maybe the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life –, there were six fleshy tentacles coming out from under his nose and a shiny mucous liquid flowed through them, they were the color of his skin and looked more like disgusting extensions of his upper lip than real tentacles. I blinked, and the bum was gone. Uh? No, don’t worry, I’m ok. Here, drink some more water.

I don’t remember exactly how I got to Marcus Garvey Park, but two hours had passed since I left home. I decided to walk all the way back to my apartment. When I got to the building I lived in, I stopped to buy some cigars; not that I smoked, not tobacco at least, but I needed something to calm myself and I had not a single joint with me. The guy I bought the cigars from had a little TV in his street stall, but it wasn’t working fine. Poor guy, his TV had broken down and now only served as a radio, FUCK THAT TV! Let me tell you. I was staring distracted at the broken thing when someone walked behind me and stopped there, then looked at the TV too; his eyes were… grotesque, like the eyes of a fish but a lot bigger and they were out of their orbits. I gave the man his money, took my cigars and ran like a girl to my home, shut the door, lit a cigar, and then I had a hunch, more of a hallucination than a hunch, though. I thought of myself beating a woman to death. I nailed the door shut. What? Yeah, I’ll wait. Guard, my guest needs to go to the bathroom, and bring me some antiacids.

Ready? Here, I prepared them for you, drink. Ok, so, where was I? Yeah, you’re right. I went to sleep after I smoked almost half the box. Thing is, I woke up three days later in the hospital with almost every bone broken. Doctors told me that I had jumped from my window in the fourth floor and that someone had picked me up and got me to the hospital. I don’t recall even trying to do so. Since then, no more “trainwrecks” have happened. I was diagnosed dissociative identity disorder, or MPD as other people know it, and sent to this place after being found guilty of all the disappearances. Last thing I heard, my parents sold some pigs along with most of my stuff, wonder if these “pigs” were the boars they had shown me, and also the reason for selling them; I mean, why did they get those in the first place? They didn’t need them for sure, so why? And why sell them along with your son’s stuff after he’s been interned in a mental institute? Fuck, where the hell are the bodies of those bitches? Because with the little stains of blood on my clothes, I don’t think they’re still alive, they were whores after all, not virgins. And the daughter of my boss, well, she was a whore too. If you ask me, they fed the damn pigs. What? No, they never let me out. Not that anyone has to worry about me going all rampant again though, as I told you before, I’ve had no more “trainwrecks”. I do have some crazy ass nightmares every single night. Hell, “crazy ass” is not even close to the real thing y’know. Those things barely let me sleep at night, so I must sleep a lot during the day. Ah? Yeah sure, I see lots of fish eyed people with tentacles for a mouth singing in some strange language and dancing a very disturbing tune while sacrificing women over a stone altar in the middle of a jungle. Sweet uh?

Do you still have that heartburn? Hey, you reminded me of a thing I forgot to tell you, the day before that wild party, I had this heartburn that wouldn’t leave; it was weird because the only unusual thing I ingested was this bottle of water my parents left in the fridge after giving me a visit. They brought a whole stash of this stuff from their trip to Mexico, to some Toltec ruins I think. Yeah, that is all. Ok, see you and good luck with the story. Oh, and take the bottle with you, a present for your patience.