Memoirs of the Tried and Failed… and Try Again

(Disclaimer, this is a work of fiction not my actual memoirs)

I’m gonna now tell you about one of the worst weekends I’ve ever had the fortune of experiencing. It starts in early July 2015, on a Friday night. I’d done pretty well that week, I managed to make it to Friday without any incidents. That’s what we call progress people, I know I haven’t given you the reader (the one and only reader) much back story to myself nor the origin of my black dog; and that’s cause I can’t pin point it. Think of me like this; a very ugly portrait. There wasn’t one lonely stroke that painted the entire picture, it takes many stabs and dashes of the brush. Two people can stare at it for several hours and each see different things.

First Person: it looks like an amalgam of refuse and various unsanitary objects.

Second Person: no, I’d say its a mountain of fecal matter, each piece piled upon the other in order to make the shape of a man.

I know it’s not exactly great writing on my part, to just be introduced to someone in the sea of life, without any explanation as to why he’s drifting towards the shores of death. Oh, no wait… that’s what every fucking story does. I mean if everyone else does it that means it must be correct, right? Cause that’s what society teaches us; just do what everybody else is doing and you’ll be fine. See that way of thinking never sat well with me, so instead I did the complete opposite; which is how we arrive to one late night Friday in July.

Hernando: hola Amigos!

Anon: hey man!

Demian: hey.

Hernando: what is going on here?

Anon: oh, Demian and I are just looking at ways of killing ourselves.

Demian: killing yourself.

Anon: alright fine, just me killing myself then.

My worst Friend Demian and I were conducting research on the net looking for viable methods of extinguishing the flame that is my life. Now we had discovered many new roads to suicide. One kid in Manchester managed to fabricate a female persona for his best friend to fall in love with. When he inserted himself into the equation turning things into a love triangle. His best friend murdered him in a crime of passion, only to find out that he was a pawn, in love with his friend, and killed the person he loved. That’d be a great way to go, but it’s out of the question for me. I could never write anything that amazing. No, my exit would need to be something unforgettable like James Dean or Paul Walker. I needed to go out in a blaze of glory.

Demian: why don’t you set yourself on fire?

Anon: are you crazy? I can’t think of a worse way to die.

Demian: why? I think it’d be pretty funny.

Anon: funny?! Is me killing myself funny to you?

Demian: yeah of course.

Anon: god damn you Demian, my death isn’t some kind of joke. It isn’t some kind of comedy written by and starring Jews, it’s a timeless tragedy that will forever stain the hearts of this generation and the others to come.

Demian: wow, you’re really delusional. I bet you think people are gonna cry at your funeral.

Anon: I haven’t even thought about my funeral. I guess you guys would have to take care of it.

Demian: aren’t funerals usually expensive?

Hernando: si.

Demian: who’s gonna pay for it?

Anon: well you guys.

Demain: no, I’m not paying for your funeral.

Anon: what?! come on, at least buy me a coffin.

Hernando: coffins are very expensive man.

Anon: this is unbelievable, are you telling me I’m gonna have money troubles after I die as well?!

Demain: look when you die we’ll just throw you in the rubbish, Hernando can probably find you a good spot you know how much he likes to go through trash.

Hernando: it’s true I know a really nice bin area behind this hotel in Chelsea. They do collections every Friday without fail.

Anon: it’s probably the only way I’d ever get to see Chelsea… Okay, but please at least play the music I want.

Demian: what is it?

Anon: well I’m thinking start the day with country music and then close the night with some classic R&B.

Demian: that’s very polarising I don’t think people usually like both.

Anon: then maybe they should kill themselves, then they can pick the music.

Hernando: why do you want to kill yourself?

Anon: cause I don’t feel anything, lately I’ve been real nihilistic.

Demian: I put out a whole cigarette on him and he didn’t even flinch.

Hernando: fucking hell man that sounds really bad.

There was more to it than that, no one chooses to kill themselves over a single reason. Our egos start out like a slab of rock. Others come along and chip away at it. We can either take what they’ve left us and mould it into a beautiful sculpture, or leave it as rubble and debris. I was never really that good at art, so instead of Michelangelo’s David my ego ended up like the shit you sweep off the streets . Why now? Did someone come along and chip at the slab so hard it crumbled to pieces? Not at all. Demian and I had been watching a suspicious amount of documentaries on serial killers at the time (all the time). When you’ve seen as much detailed in-depth analysis as I into the minds of killers you begin to draw comparisons. With the way I was then it was only a matter of time before I started picking up duct tape, zip ties and surgical gloves at Tesco. So better to end my own story before I ended someone else’s. Plus I was kinda bored.

Demian: what about suicide by cop?

Anon: I don’t think I’ve done anything bad enough to warrant that, Plus I feel like I should die by my own hand.

Hernando: no, amigo then you’ll go to hell.

Anon: ah shit, suicide is a sin isn’t it?

Hernando: what if I just stabbed you in the back of the head?

Anon: you’d do that for me?

Hernando: to save your soul from hell of course.

Demain: why are you assuming you’re not already going to hell?

Anon: god damn it! There’s no way I’m going to heaven, I’ve broken like all the commandments. I’m not even baptised or Jewish.

Hernando: maybe you shouldn’t kill yourself yet.

There was a moment of silence before Demian and I burst in to laughter.

Anon: yeah why don’t I take responsibility for my life as well.

That one actually made Hernando laugh and Demian hit the floor. I remember spending at least twenty minutes more debating before reaching a solution. It was to over dose of course.

Anon: what pills do we have?

Demian: I don’t think we have any here?

Anon: what time is it maybe I can still run down to Sainsbury’s?

Demian: it’s almost three in the morning.

Anon: shit… I guess we’ve got to go pill hunting bitch.

We searched every crevice of the bathroom, when we found nothing in there we tried the kitchen. Nothing. Then the bedrooms. Nothing. When we got really desperate we tried the loft. To our amazement stashed in a shelf amongst boxes of puzzles and baby bowls; was a box of caffeine pills that expired in 1987.

Demian: are you sure these are okay to take?

Anon: We eat shit past it’s sell by date all the time. Plus I’m trying to kill myself.

Demian: of course, gone off food tastes the best.

Anon: exactly, I’m not some kind of royal monarch that can afford fresh food. The lower classes have been eating gone off foods for years; our bodies have built a tolerance to it.

Demian: well, yours has. Salmonella can even kill some people, but you seem to thrive off it.

Anon: expiry dates are bull shit man, especially on drugs. I once had grounded up ecstasy pills in my bag for like five years and they worked just fine – holy shit I think I might still have some.

Demian: good, that way you’ll be happy about dying.

Anon: I’m already happy about dying. Where’s the whiskey man?

Demian: whiskey? You’re really next level huh?

I took the various pills and grounded them into dust, well there was so much it came out more like flour. I then gave the concoction a good mix with the whiskey in my shaker. I was never gonna leave this world sober, and I most definitely wasn’t going to go out drinking water. It was a real mess of a drink, I think I was trying to make a sour but turned it into a whole different type of beast. It didn’t help that Demian poured the rubbish wine into it when I wasn’t looking. Rubbish wine? Yeah we call it that because Hernando found it in the bins at work. He brings that kinda of stuff home all too often.

Anon: let’s see what this does. My only worries is that, there’s quite a bit of ecstasy here so I might become all overjoyed with life and want to live.

Demian: okay, well then what I’ll do is put on a really depressing documentary.

Anon: I don’t know man, it’s gotta be pretty depressing to over power this.

Demian: well, there’s one on Netflix about people who fling themselves off the Golden Gate Bridge. It’s got interviews with the families and footage of the jumps.

Anon: god damn, I think that might do it.

That documentary was well and truly depressing, but not enough to balance the molly. At points where I should have gasped or even shed a tear I just laughed hysterically, by the end of it I had a shortness of breath. Demian on the other hand didn’t even take anything and yet he was laughing even harder than I. 5 a.m rolled around and I was no closer to death.

Anon: Demian, I’m still alive, and the ecstasy has worn off. I’ve got to leave this world now.

Demian: don”t worry you’ve taken like a shit ton of pills it should work soon.

Anon: but it’s not, people usually over dose in a matter of moments, they don’t sit through morbid documentaries, The Room and eight episodes of Hardcore Pawn!

Demian: just try sleeping, once you fall asleep you probably won’t ever wake up again.

I shut my eyes and allowed the waves of slumber to wash over me. My consciousness was a FM radio, it’s static and white noise slowly fading to silence as the dial twists. All was quite and all was right, this would be the end. As my eternal dream drew closer, I asked myself what my final thought would be. It had to be something special like rosebud, a salute to the life I once knew and a wave to the next one. It had to be tragic, It had to be beautiful, it had to be “was that guy trying to sell the microwave with a chicken in it or return it?” god damn you Hardcore Pawn. Just as I felt my brain waves flat line the next moment they jolted back to full alertness.

Anon: what the fuck?

Demian: you’re still alive?

Anon: I’m having trouble sleeping.

Demian: well of course you’re gonna have trouble sleeping you took like a whole box of caffeine pills.

Anon: why did you tell me to fall asleep then?

Demian: I didn’t think the pills would even work, they expired decades ago.

Anon: shit, I feel so tired man; like my body just wants to switch off but the brain won’t let it.

Demian: your brain never does what you want it to.

Anon: oh god damn.

Demian: what is it?

Anon: I tried to move my arm but nothing’s happening.

Demian: can you move any other part of your body?

Anon: no, every thing’s switched off!

Demian: I guess the pills must be determined to keep you up no matter what.

Anon: no! I wanted to die not this! This is a fate worse than death!

Demian: oh you have to watch this documentary on Aliens; it’s about why they’re so fixated with butts.

Anon: now I really am in hell.

I’ll spare you the torturous boredom of describing what happened during the remainder of the night, because… well it was boring. Go back to the time you were most tired, your body screaming at you to hit the off button. My case was just that, only the off button didn’t work so instead of slumber I was graced with limbo. A twilight realm were that sense known as touch goes out to smoke a fag around the corner. Every single atom in my body was numb, the only thing running was my mind – where to? That’s anybody’s guess, all I knew was it didn’t want anything to do with me.

Once I sobered up I was amazed to be alive, well more surprised than amazed. Still my mouth was dry, my head was spinning and I was using my chin to move. I remember Demian strolling in vaguely surprised and visibly disappointed to see me alive.

Demian: what are you still doing here, I thought you’d be having breakfast with Satan by now.

Anon: what time is it?

Demian: it’s 9 a.m.

Anon: fuck, I got to baby sit my little brother and sister today.

Demian: you’re gonna pass out the minute you step out that door.

Anon: Not unless I take some more caffeine pills bitch.

If you were in the vicinity of Newbury Park during the hour between 9 and 10; nobody would have blamed you for calling the police to report a zombie. Imagine every single character from The Walking Dead rolled into one; that was me, only I had worse skin. I don”t know what got me from my place to my mothers but it’s a special kind of instinct. Not the self preservation kind, not unless I was subconsciously getting away from Demian. This instinct was more the ‘don’t die on the train unless your under it’ kind. Yeah people were looking at me funny, hoping I wouldn’t keel over in front of their shopping. Please, I got more class than that; I would never do anything as embarrassing as that. The only way to die in a public space is either off a bridge or a building. I arrived in time to rendezvous with my mother and take the kids off her hands.

Andee: hey dummy! (she’s the girl)

anon: hey fart breath.

Al: why are you so smelly? (he’s the boy)

Anon: why are you so short?

Andee: you smell like a hobo sandwich.

Anon: actually I smell like liquor, disappointment and failure.

Al: is that like a perfume?

Anon: yeah, it’s my own brand.

Andee: Anon, which way are you going?

Anon: we’re going to the park kids.

Andee: no, I don’t want to go to the park.

Anon: come on the sun’s out and everything, we should be in the park.

Andee: no Anon, I don’t want to go to the park!

Anon: why not?

Al: Andee’s afraid of the park.

Anon: why are you afraid of the park?

My little sister didn’t want to tell me, kids only ever usually play the silent game when they think they might be in trouble. Most adults make the mistake of playing just that, the adult. They have to reassure themselves of their own maturity, so they demand acknowledgement of their authority; their badge is their age. It’s important to think like a kid if you want to handle them properly. I coax the truth from the little lady by promising her that I won’t be mad. I couldn’t keep that promise, my rage was over the limit; if it could be measure in the same manner as alcohol content I’d be serving triple life sentences. Let me explain, my anger wasn’t steered towards my sister but towards her harassers. She and Al told me of how she was being tormented in school by a pack of boys; one in particular failed abortion by the name of Ricky seemed to be the alpha. All throughout the school year they’d made it their mission to make her life a misery; even rallying the older kids to their cause. Why? Cause the cunt that squeezed them out was bad, tainted, poisoned and that pungent stench rubbed off on them. Ruining a year of Andee’s life wasn’t enough for these foetuses they wanted to extend their bullying in to the summer.

Anon: what did they say to you?

Andee: they told me if I ever went to the park they’d beat me up.

Anon: how many of them?

Andee: it’s a group, like five or more I don’t know.

Anon: five boys against one girl?!

I always taught the kids to fight their own battles, it’s very important to assert your dominance within an environment such as a school. Cause that’s all school is, status. You don’t have to be at the top but you can’t be at the bottom. In fact if you’re one of those psycho kids or you hang out with one then you don’t even fit in the ladder. That can be the best or worst status depending on how you look at it. Yes you’re an outsider and you get none of the glory or attention of being poplar, but odds are no one’s gonna fuck with you. Whoever said children are innocent was full of horse shit; think about some of the moments from your past that ruined you… its was when you were back at school wasn’t it? Like I said kids have to fight their own battles; but when it’s five or more against one then it’s war.

Anon: we’re going to the park.

Andee: no I don’t want to.

Anon: why? Cause of these kids? Don’t worry Andee I’m gonna speak with them.

Andee: what? No please Anon don’t.

Anon: Andee, these kids have threatened to hurt my little sister; I can’t have that. Not ever. Now I’m only gonna talk to them and if I’m lucky smack them.

Andee: they might not be there.

Anon: when someone threatens to beat some one up at a specific location they better damn well be at that place.

She protested the whole way there, the boy saw one of his friends and instead chose to play with them rather than defend his sister; I forgave him he’s only a toddler. I asked her to point out her tormentors and she did, there was a large group made up of kids between eleven and thirteen. They had a nice chunk of the park all to themselves, where they’d laugh, run, cycle and kick a ball. I won’t lie looking at them enjoy themselves so much made me envious.

As a child my times spent in a park were some what different. You still had the older kids occupying the most of the park if not it’s entirety. But these kids preferred to set the bins on fire rather than kick a ball. I got very few opportunities to actually play on any of the obstacles they had in there, but when I did I had the whole park to myself. It’s not as fun as it sounds, bouncing up and down on a burnt see saw can be pretty demoralising. None of the other kids were dumb enough to play in there. It’s not because I was some kind of mini-Kevin Bacon stepping up to authority, society and bullies. No, I just didn’t know any better. I didn’t know what people were capable of. I soon learned, when the older kids saw me they would scream and snarl; in response I’d move my six year old stumps like I’d just received a leg transplant from Usain Bolt. On one occasion I remember them chasing me with sticks and branches with dog shit at the end of them. But the moment I have burn in to my memory was when I strolling through the park and it begins to rain. But it doesn’t rain the way I’d always known it to. No, this rain was more of a stream. The one Stream became many and they all appeared to be following me, slowly snaking their way towards me. The smell reached me before the liquid did. The pungent smell, the ember hue, I put two and two together just as I felt something spray past my head. Where? Where was all this piss coming from? My eye darted around the spiralling rivers of piss and made them, there atop the nylon rope pyramid was the older boys; cackling like chimps clutching their cocks like hoses. They are the reason I know no child is innocent; I was only six when this happened but I knew better than to look in their eyes. I knew what would stare back at me wouldn’t be human. This is a sad fact but it’s a fact none the less; some people are just dog shit, inside and out. Andee pointed out Ricky to me and I was back in my own park watching piss rain upon me as five or more boys watch with blood lust. These bitches had to be put down. Andee tugs my arm, she’s seen someone that’s put the fear of God in her.

Anon: what is it?

Andee: it’s Troy and his big brother; they’re the scariest boys in school.

Anon: so? They won’t hurt you if you’re with me.

Andee: no, I don’t want them to hurt you!

I took another glance at these hard nuts the girl was referring to. I was expecting Vinnie Jones but instead all I saw was black Rick Moranis. It’d be another couple of years before they’d be a threat to me.

Anon: Andee, these guys are nothing. I have a friend that does more harm to me than what any of these kids could combined.

Andee: nuh-uh.

Anon: the guy I’m talking about spent all of last night trying to kill me.

As I proceeded she chose to hide behind a tree. I went in to the centre of their little gathering. I wait till all eyes are on me, I’m not waiting so long. When you look like a man who just crawled out of the sewer people are gonna pay attention.

Anon: which one of you is Ricky?

That one stopped them all in their tracks, it was almost a full minute before Ricky raised his hand. I say raised, all he did was poke his finger up and even then he couldn’t hold it higher than his waist.

Anon: you’re Ricky?

He nodded and muttered something that sounded like a wet fart erupting from a dog’s asshole.

Anon: you know my sister, Andee?

The eyes betrayed him before he could even speak.

Ricky: ye-yes.

Anon: good, good. Then I guess you’re aware that she’s been having a hard time; in fact she’s having a terrible time. You know a couple of boys are… well they’re bullying her. Do you know anything about this?

By this point we had attracted quite a crowd. All eyes were on Ricky and what he would have to say for himself.

Ricky: it’s Troy.

God damn, I never expected to break him as fast as I did. Even better I never imagined that he’d throw his number two under the bus in a matter of seconds; and he did it right in front of the poor guy. I was gonna break down any credibility these pussy faces had; that’s why I was grateful for the crowd.

Anon: really? Where’s Troy?

A little boy pointed him out for me, I already knew which one was Troy I just wanted to embarrass him some more.

Anon: Troy is this true.

Troy: no, it’s Ricky he’s the one always telling everyone to pick on Andee.

Three or four of the boys and girls yelled out in agreement.

Anon: is that so? You know it’s funny Ricky, cause you say Troy’s the bully, but everyone is telling me you are the architect behind my sisters misery.

Look this is the only time I’m ever gonna get to outsmart someone so let me enjoy it.

Ricky: no, no, I play with Andee, we’re friends.

At that moment another boy stepped out of the crowd and in front of Troy, he was a whole head taller than everyone else.

Big Brother: yes.

I won’t lie this kid freaked me out a little bit, his lips were quivering and he was squeezing his dick for dear life. Yes he was terrified, but the spectrum of fear he was in was the unpredictable kind. He could have ripped his dick off at any moment and started clubbing me with it. Or the worst case scenario is he faints with his hand over his crotch, and I get done for being the world’s scariest pedo.

Anon: you’re Troy’s big brother right?

Big Brother: yes.

Anon: I was just speaking to Troy about who’s been picking on my sister, do you know anything about it?

Big Brother: yes.

Anon: you do?

Big Brother: I mean no, I don’t.

Anon: are you sure?

Big Brother: yes.

Anon: so you do know?

Big Brother: yes, no I mean no.

Anon: well which one is it?

Big Brother: I don’t know.

Anon: you don’t know anything or you don’t know what it is you know?

Big Brother: err…Yes.

The kid was a lost cause, I was afraid if I kept asking him questions the blood would stop pumping to his head.

Anon: okay kids I want all of you to listen; especially you Ricky. Andee is off limits, she’s untouchable.

I pointed at Ricky once more for dramatic effect, which was a well executed decision on my part because his eyes then began to well up with tears.

Anon: so Ricky are you gonna cut it the fuck out?

Once again I saw streams in a park, only this time they were streams of victory; as Ricky let go of whatever dignity he had and cried before the gods. But it wasn’t enough, all the kids were watching with an uncomfortable expression of pity. NO! I could not have them take pity on this monster I needed to slay the beast. So I employed the one spin that could squash Ricky’s influence.

Anon: look he’s crying like a little bitch!

I was never popular at school but at that moment I felt like the king of the world; I had made a twelve year old boy cry and got all of his peers to laugh at him. The moment was almost too good to be true, and it was; I felt a sharp pain in the lower portion of my spine. I turned to see a ball rolling away from me.

Anon: who kicked that?

Baby Spartacus: I did.

Unbelievable to think that someone like Ricky could still have a friend after this display. Fucking loyalists, do you want to know what I do with loyalists?

Anon: this your ball?

Baby Spartacus: yeah.

I toss their toys into other peoples back yards.

Anon: have fun getting that back bitch.

I’m fully aware that I came across as a crazy sewer man, but this somewhat traumatic event is karma; plain and simple. Do shitty things and even shittier things will happen to you. Some of you reading this might be thinking “well now he’s only made things worse” not at all dear reader. See in an ecosystem as black and white as the playground; where if you’re popular you reap the benefits and if you’re not… well you’re just everybody else; prone to the same symptoms of acne, social ostracism, bad hair, wrong clothing and more. When I put things that way it makes me wonder why I’m choosing now to kill myself. See as I stated earlier the safest sub species of student to be is the psycho kid. A grown man in a park yelling at children, I’m god damn certifiable, and now all the kids will know that Andee has the crazy gene.

Mother: excuse me! What are you doing?!

Anon: it’s okay lady I’m just teaching these kids a lesson.

Mother: what sort of lesson is that?

Anon: a lesson in humility.

Mother: my son tells me you’re swearing at them, threatening them and making them cry.

Anon: which one of you snitched?!

Mother: what’s your name?

Anon: Jeffery Dahlmer.

I can’t exactly remember why I gave a serial killers name instead of my own; perhaps I was just projecting, or maybe I’d seen too many sordid documentaries. Either way a man named after a serial killer harassing kids isn’t going to sound good to a jury.

Mother: I’m calling the police.

Anon: no don’t call those fuckers.

Mother it’s ringing you better stay here.

I grabbed my siblings and raced them out the park; which probably made me look even worse to that mother.

Andee: what did you say to them?

Anon: I just told them to leave you alone, that’s all. I had to scare them a little bit but it was the only way to make sure they’d never pick on you again.

Andee: thank you Anon.

Anon: we need to stay away from the park for awhile though.

That night I got home pretty late, I was carrying quite a few bags so I literally dumped everything I had on the table. Was surprised to find the place empty, I then recalled Hernando mentioning something about going away for the weekend. I stepped outside to bring my bike in and as I had my back turned to the door I heard it slam. What’s wrong with that? Nothing, unless you have a door that locks itself. I scrambled my pockets for my keys, nothing.


I tried climbing up the house to see if anyone left their window open, no such luck. My cunt neighbour from across the street decided to step out and assist me.

Cunt neighbour: oi! What do think you’re doing?

Anon: not to worry madam, I’ve merely locked myself out of my own home. I’m just trying to climb in through the window.

Cunt neighbour: reeeally?

Anon: yes really, you don’t have to be sarcastic.

Cunt Neighbour: listen mate I don’t believe this is your home so I’m calling the police now, you just stay up there if you want.

Anon: you know I live here, I always see you watching me from your window.

Cunt Neighbour: how would I be able to see you all your windows are blacked out.

Anon: they’re blacked out because of people like you.

Cunt Neighbour: go on break the window then I can call the police. I’m sure they’d like to see what you’ve got in there.

Anon: you bitch you’re the one that keeps telling the police were a crack house.

I wanted to get in the house badly but I also didn’t want the police knocking on my door again. I didn’t know what the odds were of them searching the place but I didn’t want to take the risk cause I knew they’d most definitely find something. We had plenty of things we shouldn’t have from Hernando’s stash to my weapons; some of which were only props but most we’re real. Even an empty gun can could you into a lot of hot water.

Anon: I’m not a drug dealer and I’m not breaking in – well I am breaking in but it’s my own home.

Cunt Neighbour: it’s not me you have to explain it to mate.

I decided to let her have her way, I planned to sleep by the front door until morning and cycle my way over to Demian’s and spend the night at his place; then come Monday Hernando would be back and I’d be able to go home.

Anon: okay, okay I’m just gonna sleep here okay, outside my front door is that okay with you?

Cunt Neighbour: I don’t believe it’s your house so you’re not gonna hang about anywhere near this street.

Anon: it’s not a crime to sleep outside on the street.

Cunt Neighbour: you’re gonna have to ask the police.

Anon: oh great so you’re still gonna call them. I mean that’s what they’re there for, harassing people out of their homes.

She turns her back to me and gestures like she’s making a call. I didn’t want to call her bluff cause I knew from past experience she’d make good on her promise. Plus I really didn’t fancy explaining myself to the authorities considering the only thing I had on me was ecstasy; but who knows perhaps they’d believe my story and help me in. I think it’s plausible, yeah why not and maybe Charlie Sheen can pass a drugs test.

Anon: oh god damn you, you stupid bitch. Just call the police. I need to throw the rubbish out I know I’ll just call the police! I’ve taken a shit and there’s a spot I can’t reach, I’ll just call the police to wipe it!

I knew a quite spot between the local Sainbury’s and my home, I knew no one would be likely to find me if I slept there. Only problem was that it was creepy as shit. I had no problem sleeping on hard surfaces, this wasn’t the first night I spent on the streets. That said every single noise had me on high alert, even the slightest thud or shuffle I’d hear it in full volume. I remember one couple coming close to stumbling upon me, the whole situation echoed an event from notorious serial killer Ted Bundy’s life. He had just brutally murdered an innocent young women and was disposing of her body in the woods when a couple strolled through. It was dark and he hid in the shadows, the couple recalled feeling an unsettling vibe and immediately turned back. Bundy himself claimed it was the closest call he ever had prior to his arrest. I’m so glad I share such qualities.

By the time Sunday rolled around I was some what apathetic to my situation. I made my way over to Demian’s and told him what had happened.

Demian: you can stay here tonight.

Anon: you sure?

Demian: yeah it’s no problem.

Anon: your house mates won’t mind?

Demian: no they hate you.

Anon: what? Why? What did I ever do to them?

Demian: it was that night we were drinking and you climbed on the balcony and started singing along to R Kelly really loud.

Anon: how does that hurt them?

Demian: it was at like midnight and one of them had an exam in the morning.

Anon: an exam? How old are your house mates?

Demian: two are in their thirties and one in their forties or fifties; but why should they care the room is mine.

Anon: alright so long as I’m not imposing.

Demian: are you still trying to kill yourself?

Anon: of course.

Demian: how are you gonna do it this time?

Anon: I’m thinking of doing like a Leaving Las Vegas type of deal. Like Nic Cage I’m gonna drink myself to death, cause that’s a beautiful movie; with a beautiful message. Even in the ugliest of places you can find love, and kill yourself before you get to the bad part.

Demian: Leaving Las Vegas, so do you need a prostitute?

Anon: not unless they look like Elisabeth Shue.

Demian and I used to like to play this drinking game; where every time you’d see a spoon in a film you could stop watching it and just start drinking. We didn’t finish many films, in fact we tended to only watch one particular film repeatedly; The Room. But this time we changed the rules a little bit; the rules this time would be a bit more complicated. You watch a Jason Statham film and for every single act of violence you drink a glass – wait what? A glass you say? Yes that’s right a glass not a shot. Shots are for university kids still discovering how much fun they can have with each other’s butt holes. True degenerates drink from a glass. A tumbler (the glass not the blog service) is the preferred instrument of self destruction but any other glass will do. Now the minimum alcohol volume is 37% any less than that and you might as well be drinking soup. Do you drink soup or do you eat it? Whatever, before you play this game I’ve got to give you full disclaimers; this isn’t a game you’re actually supposed to come back from.

Where was I? Oh yes, so Demian and I sit through Blitz playing our game. We finish a bottle before we’re even half way through, I remember Demian bringing up some chips we cooked. I say cook, what he really did was heat them up in an oven and even that wasn’t well executed. The kitchen had no baking trays so we resorted to heating the chips individually.

Anon: why does it always have to be chips man?

Demian: I don”t know, I think we were watching a documentary on them or something so now we always eat it.

Anon: you know, I think we’re the only people who watch documentaries and end up dumber.

Demian: ouch!

Anon: you burnt your hand?

Demian: yeah.

Anon: how is that possible?

Demian: what you mean I just burnt my hand.

Anon: oh you haven’t drunk enough bitch. You can still feel pain.

Demian: oh you’re right. There’s some wine in the fridge give it to me.

Anon: I’ll have some as well. Help speed up the whole process. But this isn’t part of the game so we don’t count it.

Demian: right.

Anon: it’s just a time out.

We eventually cooked every last chip, we used a hair dryer to speed up the process. Demian had this thing with ketchup where he’d fill a bowl or plate with it; so in the end you’d be drinking/eating tomato ketchup soup with flakes of chips. It was reasonably disgusting, although I’ve seen and eaten much worse. When I got through it I felt even worse than what I had done from all the vodka. Something inside wasn’t sitting well with me.

Demian: are you alright?

Anon: no man, I need to get this shit out of me.

Demian: are you gonna throw up?

Anon: probably, I know it’ll probably taste better coming out.

I made my way to the toilet and willed the contents of my body out, it wasn’t too hard. My digestive system was staging a bigger walk out than London TFL. I can’t say for sure how long I was in there but one of the house mates started banging on the door yelling at me to get out. I complied, I’d rather throw up into a bag than listen to this bitch moan.

Bitch House Mate: are you okay?

Anon: yeah fine.

Bitch House Mate: you don’t look fine.

I sat myself in Demian’s room and finished up the detox in there, but his house mates weren’t having it. The three shrews stood in front of his room yelling at him and jabbing their fingers my way. Demian didn’t care, he just continued to watch the movie.

Anon: what the hell’s going on here? Why is Statham summoning demons?

Demian: he’s not, this is a different film. That’s Pin Head.

Bitch House Mate: you need to get him out!

Demian: I can’t do that, look at him.

Bitch House Mate: I don’t care we want him out, none of us feel safe with him here!

Anon: please lady, I don’t have the strength to rape any of you.

The shrews let out a gasp and started clucking like chickens, at least that’s what it sounded like to me.

Bitch House Mate: why’s he talking about raping us?!

Anon: I told you I’m not gonna rape you.

Bitch House Mate: I’m sorry, but you have to go. Now!

Anon: please ladies I’m not trying to cause you any harm. I just had a little too much to drink, that’s all. So please just let me finish vomiting into this bag and I’ll leave.

After I said that they started pulling at me, trying to drag me out; their leader pulled the bag away from me.

Anon: come on! This is over exaggerating!

Bitch House Mate: I’m going to call the police now!


They practically hurled me out of the door. Demian stepped outside laughing hysterically. Sometimes I wonder if the guy’s just a figment of my imagination like Tyler Durden; he’s the devil on both my shoulders steering me to places I shouldn’t go, all for his own amusement.

Anon: I think I’m gonna go home.

Demian: how? If you go on the road with your bike you’ll die and all the stations are now closed.

Anon: so now what do I do?

Demian: we wait till they fall asleep and then sneak back in.

Anon: alright.

We loitered around the corner for about half an hour and then made our way back. To my horror there was a police car parked right outside Demian’s front door. Out stepped the fuzz and the shrews, we couldn’t hear what they were saying but the gestures they were making were pretty clear… find him and kill him.

Anon: what the fuck are we gonna do now, I can’t go back in there.

Demian: we can go to the park, you can sleep there.

Anon: sleep in the park… yeah okay.

People sleep in the park all the time, I mean yeah usually during the day in summer time, under a tree and a book. Mile End park wasn’t anything like the one from my childhood, it was well cared for and had enough space for anyone visiting. Sure there was that time a guy got stabbed repeatedly in the face by a gang, it’s also becomes a hotspot for drug dealers and east London’s more sordid citizens; but at least they had swings no one set on fire.

Demian: look here, this spot is really good. Feel the ground here.

I laid down against the ground and you know what… it was one of the best god damn surfaces I’d ever laid on. My back felt like a million pounds pressed against all that dirt and grass.

Anon: god damn this feels great, oh I feel like a king down here.

Demian: yeah and over there you can throw up and just roll back to bed.

Anon: hey, I think I can fit under that bush.

Demian: why do you want to sleep under that bush?

Anon: so no one tries to stab or rape me.

Demian: yeah but you understand, you hiding under the bush makes you look like you’re gonna stab and rape someone.

Anon: that’s ridiculous why would I stab and then rape someone? I’d first have to rape them and then I’d stab them, in that order.

Demian: wow, you’re really wasted. I’m gonna go see what’s going on in the house.

Anon: okay I’m just gonna go sleep under the bush.

That bush was snug to say the least, several people had walked by, none of which even glanced my way. I was able to drift to sleep fairly quickly, although my bladder was keeping me up. There were bushes all around me so I had no reason not to go. I unzipped and crawled out, I don’t know what that looked like to other people but it must have been pretty scary; cause as soon as I emerged two guys across from me practically jumped out their skin.

Late Night Shopper: what the fuck?!

This guy booked it down the park like he was a fireman responding to an emergency.

Slim Very Shady: are you a copper?

The guy before me was wearing a wife beater, with three quarter lengths bottoms and bleached yellow hair.

Anon: are you Eminem?

Slim Very Shady: you’re not the police?

I couldn’t believe this guy was still asking that; I mean how many police officers do you see crawl out of the ground, with their trouser down and their dick in their hand.

Anon: god no, I fucking hate the police; all they ever do is harass me.

Slim Very Shady: shit man, the way you came out I thought you were undercover or something.

Anon: what were you doing?

Slim Very Shady: selling grass. What about you?

Anon: oh, I was just sleeping.

Slim Very Shady: out here? That’s creepy man.

Unbelievable, the drug dealer calling me creepy.

Anon: what? Why exactly is that creepy?

Slim Very Shady: it’s what stalkers and rapists do man.

Anon: why does everyone think I’m a rapist.

Slim Very Shady: cause you look like one.

Anon: I look like a rapist, and how many rapists do you know?

Slim Very Shady: quite a few and they all look like you.

Anon: so they just told you they were rapists?

Footsteps in the distance could be heard, again Slim Very Shady was on high alert.

Slim Very Shady: act cool someone’s coming.

To be honest I didn’t want to be anywhere near the guy if it was the authorities. I didn’t buy anything off him but if they catch me next to him they’d still think the worse, and I don’t think people can think any lower of me.

Demian: hey.

Anon: Demian, did you find out what’s going on?

Demian: oh yeah, they were just asking me questions about what happened.

Anon: what did you tell them?

Demian: I told them the truth.

Anon: so I’m okay?

Demian: no, they asked everyone for a description of you.

Anon: what?! Why would they need a description of me?!

Demian: I don’t know, so if they see you they can arrest you.

Anon: for what I haven’t done anything wrong, I’m almost completely sober now.

Demian: don’t worry they won’t find you in the park.

Slim Very Shady: it’s true that’s why I always come here.

Demian: who’s this?

Anon: oh, he’s a drug dealer.

Demian: do you have weed?

Slim Very Shady: yeah man.

Demian: how much?

Slim Very Shady: twenty for a bag.

Demian: I don’t have any cash though.

Slim Very Shady: I know a cash machine.

Demian: alright I’ll just go with this guy and then I’ll come back here.

Anon: why can’t I just come with you?

Demian: Limehouse police station is just around the corner from here so they’re always going up and down the main road. It’s safer if you keep hiding in the bush.

Anon: alright, but I really need to reassess my life; I can’t be doing this every week.

Demian: we won’t be too long.

As I laid beneath the bush I wondered what exactly those wenches told the police. Did they lie and say I hit them, cause that wouldn’t be the first time someone accused me of that. How did they describe me, I doubt it was anything flattering.

Bitch House Mate: you ever seen Sling Blade?

Police Officer: the movie?

Bitch House Mate: yeah, he kinda looked like the retard from that. I say that on account of all the French fried po-taters he had.

Police Officer: dispatch, be on the look out for a severely mentally retarded male eating French fries. If anyone finds him do not approach this man without assistance, he will rape you.

Perhaps this was all my own doing. If I didn’t have such a bleak and sour disposition then maybe people wouldn’t always think the worst of me. It’s not like I haven’t tried, many times over I tired to change for the better, but the thing about life is that it’s all about the inevitable. What goes up must come down; it’s easy being positive and happy when things are going your way. I guess that’s where real strength of character comes from. The person who can carry themselves, the people who can endure, the ones that have faith when they have no reason to; they’re the ones I wish I could be.

An hour had gone by before I began to think the worst. That bitch killed Demian. I scrambled out of the ground like the living dead and began my search. What was I searching for, why his body of course. I had to at least find that. Mile End at night was quite… too quite, usually meaning all the wrong sort of people were out and about. I walked the length of the park, checking every shitty street corner for a corpse; I even riffled through a couple of bins. Nothing. Then a horrible theory came to my mind, what if the body was somewhere in the park. I mean it was the perfect hiding spot, no body would find the corpse until the morning; when a jogger would probably stumble upon it. They seem to find all the dead bodies, next time someone goes missing they should just send out a party of joggers. I was at the crossing before the park when, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of a police car. They were waiting from me to cross, I steered my eyes to the ground and proceeded forward. The only time I glanced over my eyes locked with one of theirs; and they didn’t like what they saw. I picked up the pace and practically dived in to the foliage of the park; I’d seen First Blood enough times to know the police would be out of their element somewhere like this. To my amazement/disappointment when I got to my refuge area Demian was sat on a bench smoking a joint.

Anon: shit. You’re alive. I thought you were dead, I’ve been searching for your body for like the last forty minuets.

Demian: no, the guy took me to another dealer; a really cool guy unlike any of the other drug dealers I’ve met. We were just hanging out at his house, he had all these cats and dogs. It was really nice.

Anon: oh, I’m so glad you made friends with all the drug dealers, while I’ve been out on the streets looking for your corpse!

Demian: you want some?

Anon: no, I’m tired, tired of the whole weekend. I just want to forget it all.

Demian: oh, okay are you still gonna try and kill yourself?

Anon: I don’t know, I can”t even seem to get that right.

Demian: well, should we just sleep out here?

Anon: of course, this dirt is the best bed I’ve had in years. I don’t know why there’s such a stigma about sleeping out in the streets.

Demian: must be like a trip to the future for you huh? I’m gonna sleep on the bench like a proper hobo.

Anon: suit yourself.

I slept pretty well that night, maybe I was just relieved the ordeal was over. By sun rise I was up; which meant I only probably had a couple hours sleep. I checked my phone like I do every morning. There was a message from my little sister “Thank you, I love you so much poo poo head”.

Demian: what time is it?

Anon: I think it’s about seven or eight.

Demian: I have to go to work, we’ve got to give a presentation on what we’ve done this week.

Anon: have you done anything?

Demian: no.

We stepped out on to the main road; the environment was a complete 180. It was night and day I guess, everyone racing to get on with their lives. I mean that’s just the way the world is, when you’re gone you’re gone; no one’s gonna take notice, they’ve got their own shit to deal with. You’re close ones will give you two weeks tops, but then they’ll have to carry on with their own lives. I know it’s kind of a bleak outlook, but it helps remind me of what I want to do. I’ll probably experience a hundred more failures, but if I keep going I’m bound to win at least once. Probability right? Maths is never wrong… unless someone does the equation wrong.

Anon: hey, Demian. I don’t think I’m gonna keep try’n to kill myself.

Demian: that’s probably a good idea.

Anon: why we waiting at the bus stop?

Demian: I’m going to work.

Anon: what? Right now? You aren’t even gonna go home to get ready?

Demian: I’m already ready.

Anon: dude you’ve just spent the night sleeping on a bench, plus you stink of weed.

Demian: it’s okay they’ll never be able to tell.

Anon: well, I think I’ll do the same.

Demian hopped on his bus and you know what, compared to most of the other passengers he looked like he stepped out of a five star hotel.