Ask Your Doctor if Medical Advice from a Television Commercial Is Right For You

 

FYS

You know that song about walking a thousand miles?

I did it many times over with an agonized smile

Spine felt like it took some sledgehammer smashes

Soles felt like I walked barefoot through ashes

My legs couldn’t carry my pizza-stuffed body

How did light exercise become a dangerous hobby?

Collapsing on my bed was the best part of it all

Hopefully my weight loss won’t be too small

I ate a bunch of salads covered in Caesar dressing

Who knew eating greens could be such a blessing?

Broccoli swimming in a river of salted butter

Fjord of cauliflower peppered like a motherfucker

Bathtub full of peas scooped up with a shovel

Fiber is the key ingredient in case I’m too subtle

I could drop the pounds like an atomic bomb

One trip to the bathroom and my belly is gone

I swallowed a bunch of vitamins and rice tablets

I don’t have to worry about an addiction habit

The pills are worthless, but I can always hope

That it’s more than an elaborate Dr. Oz joke

Maybe I’m fooling myself for the sake of health

Did I believe in it hard enough? Only time will tell

This sounds like a story right out of The Secret

But if I earn a victory, then at least let me keep it

Now is the time to get my ass on the scale

To see the happy ending of my own fairytale

Good numbers, good numbers, good numbers

Lie to me and tell me I’ve got a body for summer

A gazillion pounds?!

NOOOOOOOOOOO!

Fuck you, scale!

It’s all your fault!

"The Liberal Redneck Manifesto" by Trae Crowder, Corey Ryan Forrester, and Drew Morgan

BOOK TITLE: The Liberal Redneck Manifesto: Draggin’ Dixie Outta the Dark

AUTHORS: Trae Crowder, Corey Ryan Forrester, and Drew Morgan

YEAR: 2016

GENRE: Nonfiction

SUBGENRE: Political Comedy

GRADE: Extra Credit

To an outsider, the American deep south represents everything wrong with the country today whether it’s bigotry, ignorance, or lewd behavior. After reading this book, you’ll find out firsthand that it’s far from the truth. Even I had negative feelings toward the south once upon a time. And then this book came along and gave me a lifelong education worth more than college tuition that no millennial can afford. The problems in the south are nuanced and complex whether it’s poverty, drug addiction, religious zeal, or anything else that rightwing politicians and pundits have purposefully imposed upon it. Nobody wants the south to be in that much trouble, least of all the citizens themselves. For all the negative things I’ve said about that region, I humbly apologize. That’s what this book means to me and that’s part of the reason why I’m giving it a five star review. I always appreciate having my eyes forced wide open…even if the tough love is tougher than a two dollar steak.

Even though this book is categorized as humor, it does have one chapter that almost brought me to tears: Pillbillies. It describes how Purdue Pharmaceuticals aggressively advertised heroin-like pain pills to the south and now addiction has become a national epidemic. The part where Trae Crowder talks passionately about his mother being a pillhead who ruined the family’s life is what hit me the hardest. She would lie, steal, and end up in prison many times before she got clean and sober and even then she was still on thin ice with her son. I used to know somebody who was addicted to drugs and was probably just as dishonest as Trae’s mother. The two of us haven’t spoken to each other for years and that’s how I’d like for it to be. But then Trae has a moment of warmth where he’s more forgiving of addicts because the circumstances that got them addicted were beyond their control. Will I ever forgive my former friend? Only time will tell, but Trae’s story along with his political analysis gave me lots to think about. I like being able to think critically, in case you couldn’t tell.

For all of the dark stuff the south is unfairly stereotyped for, there are times in this book where it feels like a fun place to live. Partying hard to passionate music, shooting guns (responsibly), and best of all, eating the best-tasting food on the planet. Barbecued ribs, salty steak, sweet potato pie, mmm-mmm-mmm! Of course, eating all of that delicious food uncontrollably will lead to diabetes and other health problems, as Trae Crowder will point out with his own experiences as a fat kid. But that’s the redneck way of life: they don’t do anything halfway. They don’t hold back. They don’t live life at anything other than a hundred percent. I’d be lying if I was saying I wasn’t a little bit envious of all of that fun. But then I remember that the south, much like any other place on earth, has its own set of awful problems and trading one life for another isn’t a healthy approach to personal reflection. I’m fine living vicariously through the three authors. With their sense of humor, who wouldn’t want to?

If you learn nothing else from this book, then at least learn to take care of each other and always be kind. That’s what liberalism is supposed to be about, right? Don’t judge strangers too harshly and don’t blame your problems on the wrong people. Be humble, but not so humble that it completely ruins your emotional wellbeing. Thank you, Trae, Drew, and Corey, for all of the tough love and fun times. Reading this book was a welcome experience and I look forward to many more of them. Fun fact: I gave this book to my mom one year for Mother’s Day and she loved it just as much as I did. Like I said earlier, five out of five stars is what this book will get. Congratulations on knocking it out of the park, guys!

Someplace Else

VERSE 1

Marble halls and diamond ceilings

Still yearning for those feelings

Still can’t see the beauty in the art

Still can’t find the glue for my heart

Roasted beast and potato salad

Buttered greens, I must have them

A temporary fix for my mental tricks

Back to feeling down in the sunset town

CHORUS

I’d rather be someplace else

In a different kind of hell

I’d rather be anywhere else

I need to look after myself

VERSE 2

Dancing troupe playing with fire

Balancing on the highest of wires

Still can’t find my own salvation

No matter how cultured the nation

Glass of wine that tastes so fine

Still the pain is just mine all mine

There really is no heaven on earth

Fuck every mile for what it’s worth

CHORUS

I’d rather be someplace else

In a different kind of hell

I’d rather be anywhere else

I need to look after myself

BRIDGE

Eating pills like candy

Can really come in handy

Fifty percent of the time

It’s still an uphill climb

Relaxing on the beaches

The lessons that it teaches

Money and energy spent

Just to feel internal death

VERSE 3

So far out in the galaxy

The universe is mad at me

I could make a wish on a star

To be taken away somewhere far

But wherever I go, I bring my pain

The expensive bill is always the same

I need a vacation from my broken heart

When will this new journey start?

CHORUS

I’d rather be someplace else

In a different kind of hell

I’d rather be anywhere else

I need to look after myself

Suicide Note

Taking away our most brilliant minds

A suicide note is all you’ll ever find

More questions asked than answers given

Not one mere solution among the living

Not one necromantic spell for the night

Not one more song, not one more light

Only sadness and rage, rinse and repeat

Images of dead bodies’ dangling feet

Permanent reminder of a hangman’s rope

Only a bottle of pills to help you cope

Nothing we do can bring them back

True magic is what this world lacks

We lock each other in the tiniest cages

But it won’t tack on any extra ages

None of the tears we drop in pain

Can keep it from being all in vain

Go through the motions for another day

One more light? Who gives a shit anyway?

Panic Attack

Like stage fright, except on the city streets

Hyper aware of the death-marching feet

Hyper aware of your own perspiration

Hyper aware of your own condensation

You wish your heart would slow down

As you blindly navigate this neon-lit town

Where’s your car? Did you walk too far?

Did you park too close to the rowdy bar?

Deep breaths in and out, you’ve got this

And then insanity takes off like a rocket

Too many people with judgmental voices

Too many cars with horn-honking noises

A dark alley is better than any of this

A fast food restaurant would be bliss

A hotel lobby to stay for this one night

Until you overcome this crippling fright

Float in the pool, let the water calm you

Watch TV, whatever show you choose

Do you feel safe to go back outside?

Feel comfortable to lock up and hide?

A working day is around the corner

No days off, it’s what the boss orders

Pulling yourself together yet again

Is hard when comfort is easier to defend

Where are your pills? Back at your house?

Only one way to truly find the fuck out

Trapped in a cage like a common thief

Trapped in a mind with paranoid beliefs

Do you need a visit to the emergency room?

Or are you forever trapped in your own doom?

The phone is right there, pull it off the cradle

Put an end to this medieval Grim Dark fable

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m dying inside! It’s of utmost urgency!”

“I’m sending an ambulance to your location”

“Thank you for being good at your vocation”

Counting down the minutes and hours

Until you one day recharge your power

You never know when you’re coming back

Remember the name: it’s called a panic attack

The Land of Milk and Medication

VERSE 1

Take me by the hand to dreamland

Tell me a story of fantastic glory

Everything is ours for twelve hours

The recesses of my mind are all mine

Give me a reason to greet the season

Give me a tale I can write without fail

I do it for a living, it’s all I am giving

Buy from the hovel of paperback novels

CHORUS

The land of milk and medication

Is where I do my best meditation

From reality I take a vacation

To a brand new mystical destination

VERSE 2

Milk and honey for my cinnamon bunny

Milk and Xanax for my creative annex

Milk and cereal for the morning ethereal

Milk and fudge to give my face a smudge

Every day is Christmas, night is Halloween

Thanksgiving is somewhere in between

No Valentines for the girl I shall pine

No firecrackers from patriotic attackers

CHORUS

The land of milk and medication

Is where I do my best meditation

From reality I take a vacation

To a brand new mystical destination

BRIDGE

When the sun is kissing, something is missing

Is anybody watching? Is anybody listening?

Where will I get today’s creative fuel?

Must keep the mind sharp, it’s my only tool

EXTENDED CHORUS

The land of milk and medication

Is where I do my best meditation

From reality I take a vacation

To a brand new mystical destination

A world of wonder and musical thunder

Realm of magic born from something tragic

Imagination is my favorite medication

Milk and pills still give me the chills

Ozzy

***OZZY***

As someone who was born in the mid-1980’s, I’m chronologically predisposed to sharing details of my life on the internet, especially if they’re going to have even the slightest impact on my creative activities. I don’t expect that this incident will, but it is something to think about for all the times I’ve been too exhausted to work.

Our gray and white kitty Ozzy has a nasty abscess on the side of his face and yesterday it burst open and sprayed blood all over Mom and Dale’s sheets. We don’t know how he got this gash, but we suspect he’s been in a fight with another animal. He loves to go on little adventures outside for long periods of time, so it was bound to happen sooner or later. Mom and Dale are currently vacationing in New Mexico and won’t be back until Thursday night, so it was up to me and James to take care of Ozzy-Pie.

We had the elderly cutie-kitty taken to a 24-hour emergency animal hospital in Silverdale. He cried the entire drive over and we couldn’t blame him. Going to the hospital is no fun for an animal, especially if draining abscesses is on the agenda. The good news is, the doctors were able to clear it out and disinfect it without much incident. The rest is up to me and James.

Ozzy will have to have his wound wiped out regularly, he’ll have to take antibiotic pills covered in Spam, and he’ll have to have liquid painkillers injected into his mouth. So far, so good. He likes the Spam and wasn’t too resistant to the pills or the water that had to be injected afterwards. I haven’t given him his painkillers yet, but I trust that’ll go smoothly too. The treatment will last for a whole week, but I think we’re going to make him a permanent indoor kitty from now on, lest he gets attacked again.

Being a good animal parent to Ozzy and the rest of our fur babies is more important to me right now than getting creative work done. I was frantic the whole time I was preparing to give him his medicine, because I thought it was going to be harder than it needed to be. Turns out it was painless. Just seven more days and he’ll have to go back to the vet for a follow-up. I can do this. Ozzy will get better. I know he will!

If you want to leave your well wishes for our elderly kitty baby, you can do so in the comments section. Even though he’s not capable of checking internet posts, I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. I’m Garrison Kelly! Even when you feel like dying, keep climbing the mountain!

Tristan Jealous

VERSE 1

Dr. Jealous, what has become of me?

Can you give me something to set me free?

A shot of horse to keep me cheery and bright?

A can of caffeine to keep me up all night?

Laziness and comfort, my two best friends

A friendship this close rarely ever ends

Can you scrape me out of my bed?

So I can meet my goals, keep my ego fed?

VERSE 2

Dr. Jealous, I have something to prove

I need my fix to keep me on the move

I came to the protest with my cardboard sign

And a pocket of pills to make me feel fine

I can face the world one demon at a time

But all at once? That’s the steepest climb

Here comes the circus, here come the clowns

Not one safe space in this crumbling town

VERSE 3

Dr. Jealous, do you think she likes me?

Is this dangerous risk even worth trying?

Pop a Xanax or two, maybe even three

Only then will she see the best of me

I sit in the park trying to remain calm

Another day’s dosage in my shaking palm

Maybe I should turn and walk away

Save my courage for yet another day

BRIDGE

Tristan Jealous, I’m overzealous

I’m feeling a little bit rebellious

Call a medic, yes, I said it

My chart is in need of an edit

I cannot take this, I cannot fake it

I’m not sure if I can even make it

Doctor, doctor, help me out now

‘Cause I’m not ready to bow down

VERSE 4

Dr. Jealous, I can’t reach the phone

I’m trapped in this white cell all alone

The nurses told me over and over again

That I’ll be free when eternity ends

Everyone here is blending together

Washed away like stormy weather

Dr. Jealous, I’m calling your name

Please tell them that I’m not to blame

Dreams

DIALOGUE 1
Adult: What do you want to do when you grow up?

Kid 1: I want to flip hamburgers!

Kid 2: I want to clean toilets!

Kid 3: I want to bag groceries!

VERSE 1

How can you dream big when you can’t fall asleep?

When there’s no liquor bottle that’s too deep?

No excitement in this world that’s too cheap?

No friendship in this life that you can keep?

Do you even know what your biggest dreams are?

A white picket fence, a family, and a sports car?

Or is it just surviving yet another dark day?

No rainbows today, but there’s plenty of rain

DIALOGUE 2
Adult: What do you want to do when you grow up?

Kid 1: I want to panhandle!

Kid 2: I want to stay in bed!

Kid 3: I want to sell drugs!

VERSE 2

Being an astronaut is easy when you’re a child

To be a dreamer is to let your mind go wild

Being a princess is what you’ve always believed

When you grow the fuck up, you’ve been deceived

Being on the big screen is a Hollywood trip away

As long as you take the director’s dick and play

Low expectations are the new Disneyland

Peter Pan isn’t going to hold you by the hand

DIALOGUE 3

Adult: What do you want to do when you grow up?

Kid 1: I want to jump off a cliff!

Kid 2: I want to swallow a bunch of pills!

Kid 3: I want to put a gun to my head!

VERSE 3

Is this depressing shit making you want to cry?

Or do you dare to spread your wings and fly?

Fly around the world? Fly into outer space?

Fly off a building, splat all over the place?

Find out whoever took away your dreams

Hold him hostage, make him feel your screams

Tell him over and over how he fucked you bad

Laugh in his face like you’re fucking mad!

DIALOGUE 4

Adult: What do you want to do when you grow up?

Teenager: I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, you shallow prick! Resist, motherfuckers!

Rx

“I am so frickin’ bored. Nothing to do today. I guess I’ll sit around and medicate,” sang Nathan Toney as his heavy body sprawled across the living room couch. Getting off that couch was a feat of strength akin to power-lifting a small Japanese car. His eyes were glazed over like a frosted donut. The multi-colored afghan blanket did little to cover his flabby torso.

The coffee table in front him was covered in pornographic magazines and cigarette ashes. The center of this table represented his only two choices in this world: a steak knife to end his misery or a bottle of Floydicon to numb him out. Nathan gazed at the scars on his wrists with a single tear in his eye. He wanted to go through with it. He wanted any excuse he could to exit this world forever and free himself of the unnecessary pain. But the bottle of magic pills was right there in front of him.

“Eh, what the hell…I’m too lazy for this shit anyways…” said Nathan flatly as he opened the bottle and popped one of the large white tablets. Another five hour nap was on the horizon. What kind of weird ass dream would he have this time? Unicorns and rainbows? Teeth falling out? Being naked in school? But then again, who said anything about a dream?

Nathan’s eyes shot wide open and pulsated as he watched the rain outside come to a complete standstill. The drops of water just floated there and changed colors at random whether it was clear to green, green to purple, or purple to blood red. “What the fuck is this?” asked Nathan in a hushed voice. The lights flickered in his tiny apartment before completely blacking out and leaving him in the shadows. “Oh no…not this shit again…not again!”

“Yes, Mr. Toney, we’re doing this again!” belted an ophidian voice. Nathan held his sausage fingers over his eyes and slowly uncovered them to reveal a woman in a business suit with a cobra’s head and scaly green skin. The chubby depression patient shivered and cowered further into the couch while pulling the afghan under his double chin. “It was a simple offer,” the snake woman said. “You could have had a promotion. You could have been the boss’s boss. All you had to do was one small little favor for me.” That favor was clear the minute the snake boss licked her fangs.

Nathan trembled and stammered as he struggled to say, “You knew I had a family. I can’t just do that to them. I can’t go sleeping around with whoever I want!”

“What family? This family?!” shouted a scorpion woman in a nightgown with two crying daughters clinging to her legs as tightly as they could. Nathan pulled the afghan over his whole head, but the scorpion’s tail ripped it away and poked him in the bare chest. “I knew I was right to divorce you, you son of a bitch! How could you ever consider taking that whore’s offer?!” She shed bloody tears and wiped them away with her pincer. “We didn’t need the money that badly! We needed a father and a husband!”

“Man, fuck you little bitches!” shouted Nathan as he tossed the blanket aside and shot up to his feet. “I gave you all nothing but hard work and this is how you repay me?! By taking it all away and making me live in this filthy piece of shit apartment?! You’re all poison to me! Fuck you bitches! Fuck you all!”

The two crying daughters morphed into wasps and pointed their sword-like stingers at Nathan’s face, but the disgraced father wouldn’t be deterred. “We didn’t do anything!” they said in synchronized demonic voices. “We wanted you to come home with us! We never wanted this divorce to happen! We miss you! Come home with us!”

Nathan’s raging face softened into solemnity when he hugged the two wasp children and said, “I can’t come back anytime I want. Your mom changed the locks. She has an order against me. I tried to fight her in court, but she wouldn’t let me win.” The wasps poked him in the gut with their stingers and sent their father sprawling on the couch screaming in pain. “Son of a bitch!” he yelled while clutching his green bloody wound.

“So this is it, huh?” said an elderly toad woman with red slime dripping from her amphibian skin and gnashed flies between her teeth. “You’re just going to give up on your family like this? As your mother, I can’t allow that, Nathan. I raised you to be a real man and a real man takes care of his family! A real man fights for what he believes in! But if you don’t believe in your own wife and children anymore…” With one flick of her poison tongue, she captured the wasp children and devoured them while drooling a river of thick goop.

“No!” shouted Nathan. “You can’t do that! You can’t take them away from me!”

The scorpion wife, cobra boss, and toad mother spoke in unified demon voices, “We can do whatever we want to you, Nathan. You gave us permission when you walked out on us. You gave us permission when you gave up the fight. All you had to do was see a psychiatrist about your…little problem! But you couldn’t do it, could you? You didn’t have the guts to do it then and you won’t do it now!”

“Little problem…” whispered Nathan with growing fury in his voice. “Little problem?!” He pointed to his brain and roared, “You call this a little problem?! Newsflash: I’ve been living with this shit for nearly all of my fucking life and all you three bitches did was make it worse! You all did this to me! I don’t owe any responsibilities to you pieces of shit anymore!”

“Do something about it!” said the three creatures. With every repetition of that phrase, their monstrous auras grew brighter and their voices grew louder. Nathan covered his ears and crouched down to the floor, yelling for them to shut up, but they never did. They tormented him further and began to form a circle around him. They danced and sang their demonic tune while Nathan’s eyeballs were glued to the steak knife on the coffee table.

“I know what I have to do…you want me to do something about it…you’re damn right I will!” Nathan scrambled for the knife and held the jagged blade to his throat while the horrifying ladies taunted and teased him some more. He made one small incision and a tiny droplet of blood hit the carpeted floor. He made another cut and smeared even more blood on the floor.

The blade made a full on slash and the monsters around Nathan were dropping dead one by one. Their bones snapped and their own slimy blood mixed with his. Nathan struggled for oxygen, but all that would come up in his throat was his own life juices. His stomach grew queasy at the thought of his death coming so soon and he barfed up what little oxygen he had left. All that was left of Nathan Toney and his demons was a mixture of biological sludge that made chemical plant explosions seem mundane. The goopy red rain fell once more and washed them all away in the storm.

A lightning bolt flashed across the sky and awakened Nathan Toney from his drug-induced haze. He pulled his face out of the toilet and coughed profusely until he could breathe fresh oxygen once again. He gazed around with bloodshot eyes and saw that his apartment remained in the same messy state as when he first took the Floydicon. He placed his fingers to his throat and saw that a nasty scar had developed there, but it wasn’t bleeding heavily like it was in his high.

After a while of shaking heavily, Nathan steadied his body long enough to pull himself to his feet using the rim of the toilet. He limped his way out to the living room and spotted the bottle of Floydicon resting conveniently next to the steak knife. With an expression of boiling fury etched on his jowly face, Nathan marched over to the coffee table, grabbed the medication, and stomped back to the bathroom to flush the pills down the toilet.

“What kind of dip-shit takes these kinds of pills anyways?” Nathan vengefully whispered. “What kind of doctor prescribes this shit to begin with?!” He eyeballed the label on the bottle and saw that the medication was prescribed to him by Tri-Circle Enterprises, the company he used to work for. “Figures…it fucking figures!”

He discarded the bottle in the trash and marched back over to the coffee table to grab the steak knife. Instead of holding it to his throat or his wrists, he held it like a samurai warrior and gnashed his teeth together like a rabies-infected wolf. “I’m taking my family back one way or another,” Nathan vowed. “If I have to kill every last one of those motherfuckers…so be it! No more lawyers! No more judges! No more courtroom bullshit! Ass-kicking is what’s called for!”

“But first…I need to get out of these god-awful clothes…” He spent the last few days in pajama pants and a 3XL white T-shirt. The clothes had seen pizza stains, cigarette ashes, and liquor spills of the worst kind. They smelled as though he’d been shit on by a horse in the middle of a burning junkyard. He changed into fresh jeans and a red polo shirt with black combat boots on his feet. His boss always told him to dress for the job he wanted. With a steak knife tucked firmly in his back pocket, his new job was corporate assassin. He could have done this the legal way, but it didn’t take a tripped out Floydicon user to know the law was one big conspiracy against the underdogs anyways.

Alcohol of Fame

VERSE 1

How could you do this to yourself?

How could you endanger your health?

How could you put them through hell?

Is it too late to ask for fucking help?

CHORUS 1

Alcohol of fame

Your career’s going up in flames

Alcohol of fame

You’ve only got yourself to blame

VERSE 2

Snort a little cocaine, shoot some heroin

Chugging Oxycontin and good old Vicodin

Popping Viagra while committing mortal sins

The pressure brings you to your dirty shins

CHORUS 2

Alcohol of fame

Your excuses are so damn lame

Alcohol of fame

You make zombies look so tame

VERSE 3

Everything of yours is going down the tubes

You’re fucking yourself with bloody lube

You’re smashing up your own hotel room

Wake the fuck up or meet your own doom

CHORUS 3

Alcohol of fame

Your pathetic stories sound the same

Alcohol of fame

Watch it all go down the drain

Yeah!

Alcohol of fame

Psycho visions swirling in your brain

Alcohol of fame

Watch you dying in the coldest rain

FINAL VERSE

It’s never too late to turn back the clock

And drag your sorry ass back to the top

Admitting you’re wrong is the first step

Lying to yourself is the bridge to death

You can be clean and start over again

Or you can be the author of your life’s end

Make a decision, don’t think too hard

The road to recovery is no holds barred

Cold and Scared

One month was all it took. One month of missed paychecks, lost sleep, hyper-vigilance, and moodiness was all Officer Casey Rasmussen needed to find what she needed to find…at least she was sure she did. This forest had to be the place. If not, then the baggy eyelids, messy hair, and hunched over tiredness would continue for another month. The trail might have been colder than the nighttime air by the time Casey checked out this lead.

The officer pulled her puffy coat over herself even tighter while shining a flashlight on the dirt trail. The foot prints were deep and fresh, which meant someone had been here recently. Another good sign was the distinct print pattern of someone wearing size thirteen sneakers. A tiny smile formed on Casey’s face as her teeth chattered and her breath became steamy. If these footprints went on forever, she would walk forever. This was too good of a lead to throw away those sleepless nights.

Just a powerful yawn and a few more steps later and Officer Rasmussen’s flashlight shone brightly in the face of a shivering twenty-something sitting against the tree with little to protect him from the cold other than tattered blue jeans and a ripped hooded sweatshirt. Size thirteen sneakers as well; it was definitely him. But what the hell was this young man doing with a dream-catcher in his shaking hands?

“Eric Bradley? My name is Officer Casey Rasmussen. I’m here to bring you back home to your mother. You’ve been gone for a whole month. She’s worried sick about you. Come on, let’s get you warmed up in the car.”

But as Casey approached the shaky and erratic manchild, he crawled backwards while holding the dream-catcher in her face like a priest with a crucifix. “Stay back! I don’t want to go back home! She’s evil! She poisons my food! She wants to make me into one of her zombies!”

The cop laid her weapons belt on the ground, a belt which contained a pistol, pepper spray, and a stun gun. While holding her hands up in surrender, she kicked the belt off to the side, but not too far out of sight. “I’m not here to hurt you, Eric. Your mother doesn’t want to hurt you either. You don’t mean those things. How long has it been since you’ve taken your schizophrenia medication?”

“Not long enough!” shouted Eric. A tense silence hung in the frigid night air, making chatters and shivers even more audible between the nervous cop and civilian. Even in pants-wetting fear, Eric held that dream-catcher like it was his own version of a pistol, ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Casey tiptoed over to Eric, who crawled backwards just as slowly until the cop caught up with him and sat next to him against one of the trees. Mr. Bradley’s hostility soothed into calmness as he threw his dream-catcher to the side and gently rested his hooded head against the rough bark.

“That dream-catcher is special to you, isn’t it, Eric? Your mother told me that it’s your favorite thing to play with,” said Casey with a warm smile.

“Play with? Shit, this thing was supposed to do something for those goddamn voices. It’s supposed to heal me. Turns out it’s just a bunch of urban voodoo bullshit,” said Eric. He banged his head against the tree and breathed deeply and rapidly during his rant. “I just want them to shut up. Is it too much to ask? Why won’t they let me live in peace? High school is over. They’re all gone! Those stupid jocks are never coming back! Why do they keep talking to me?! Why do they keep calling me every fucking insult in the book?! Why are they laughing at me?!” Eric began pounding the dirt ground like a child having a fit.

The only reason he stopped was because Casey grabbing his hands snapped him out of that nightmarish trance. She looked sternly into his eyes and said, “Listen to me, Eric. That dream-catcher is not going to heal you, you’re right. Then again, neither will forgetting to take your pills or skipping your therapy sessions. You were doing great after you got out of high school. And then somewhere along the way, you…”

With tears in his eyes and snot in his nose, Eric interrupted, “I what? I blew it? Is that what you’re going to tell me? That I fucking blew it?!” He stood up and towered over the seated Casey, who had her hands raised defensively. He pointed harshly at her and ranted, “What do you know about me and what I’ve been through?! Are you some kind of shrink now?! Do you want to pick my brain?! Nobody’s picking my brain tonight! Keep your poisonous food and pills, because I see the world for what it really is: a shit-hole! A putrid…vile…evil…shit-hole! It’s fucking dystopia all over again!”

Casey decided this conversation was going nowhere fast and performed a double-leg takedown on Eric, who thrashed his arms and wailed like a baby. The cop advanced her position to his chest and held his arms straight in a bear hug. No matter how many times Eric yelled, “Let me go!” Casey continued to restrain her target with a firm grasp. Eric’s yells got more frantic and less intelligible, but he eventually gave up and broke down crying.

“It’s too late for me, Officer!” he sobbed. “I’ll never be the same again! I’ll never write poetry like I used to! I’ll never make money on my own! No woman will want to be with me after this! I’m useless! Damn it, I’m useless!” Casey shushed him a few times and the rabid crying defused to a gentle weep.

“You need help, Eric. This is not the way people are supposed to live. You can’t live out here in this forest on your own. How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything other than berries and nuts?” asked Officer Rasmussen in a gentle whisper.

“It’s better than choking down that poison my mom cooks,” said Eric.

Casey got off her target’s chest and sat on her knees in front of him. “You’re right about one thing: I don’t know what you’ve been through. I only know what your mother told me about you. I keep trying to talk to you, but you’re going off on different tangents and not making any sense. This needs to stop, Eric. Please, come with me. Not just for your mother’s sake, but for yours. Is this really how you want to live?”

A monstrous growl echoed across the scene and glowing animal eyes lingered in the background. Casey and Eric watched on in horror as the creature’s fangs came into the light. A thick coat of brown fur encased this savage forest warrior as the drooling wolf descended upon its victims. Casey and Eric slowly made it to their feet and tiptoed backwards to avoid aggravating the beast any further.

The wolf lunged at the pair with the intent to rip flesh and shatter bones. Casey pushed Eric out of the way and felt the wrath of this beast’s teeth sinking into her leg. She bled profusely as she stumbled over in an attempt to reach her weapons belt. The more she struggled, the tighter the wolf’s fangs latched onto her leg. But struggle she did. She clawed into the dirt and dragged her tired body across the ground. She was fingertips away from her belt, but the massive bleeding in her leg caused her to feel lightheaded. The weapons she needed were a blur to her and everything was fading to black.

And then the razor-sharp teeth in her leg released their grip as Eric let out a primal scream and palm struck the wolf in the nose, the most sensitive part of a dog’s body. The wolf ran away whining and moaning, but the bleeding in Casey’s leg created a flood around her body. Eric was pacing back and forth nervously biting his fingernails wondering what to do next. When the answers didn’t come to him, he dropped to his knees and let out yet another primal scream while pounding his forehead with his fists.

Despite the brutal wound, Casey found enough strength to sit up on her butt and contain Eric with another bear hug. With one arm wrapped around her target, she pressed the buttons on her walky-talky and said, “I need an ambulance to come down to Redwood Forest stat! Officer down and suspect Eric Bradley is having a breakdown! Over!”

The cop and the suspect breathed sighs of relief and plopped on their backs when there was a “Roger that!” on the other end of that transmission.

Eric sobbed softly and asked, “What’s going to happen to me now, Officer? Am I going to be locked up in a nut house? Wherever I’m going, I don’t want to be out here anymore. I hate this place! I hate it!”

Casey held Eric’s hand and said, “I’m not going to lie to you, Eric. You’ve endangered a lot of people with your behavior prior to coming to the forest. That’s why your mom called us. But after you saved my ass tonight, I’m going to make sure you get the best treatment you can possibly get. With any luck, you’ll go straight to the psychiatric hospital and you won’t have to do jail time.” She chuckled in a petrified manner and said, “Shit, man, I should have known punching the wolf in the nose would have gotten him off me. That’s the oldest trick in the book.”

Eric turned to Casey, smiled, and said, “Now who’s fucked up in the head?”

Pills

CHORUS 1

Pills, pills, they’re good for your brain!

Keeping your ass from going insane!

Pills, pills, they’re good for your boner!

Keeping your ass from being a loner!

Pills, pills, they’re good for your heart!

Keeping it from being torn apart!

Pills, pills, come and get some!

The side effects are so much fun!

VERSE 1

Ask your doctor if it’s right for you

Ask your lawyer if you should sue

Ask your banker if you need a loan

Ask your therapist if you’re all alone

Ask your family for a helping hand

Ask your shelter for food that’s canned

So many questions that need to be answered

Side effects include diarrhea and cancer

CHORUS 2

Pills, pills, they’re good for your soul!

So what if you feel empty and cold?!

Pills, pills, they’re good for your penis!

Make it so big, it’s seen from Venus!

Pills, pills, they’re good for your liver!

So what if they make you vomit and quiver?!

Pills, pills, come get a prescription!

Fighting yourself is a war of attrition!

VERSE 2

Don’t take the pills if you want to live

Another prescription to write and give

Side effects may include a big ass stroke

This is all just a prank; it’s all just a joke

We love watching you shiver and fall

We don’t care which lawyer you call

We’ve got more power than a mighty king

With our kind of money, we can do anything

CHORUS 3

Pills, pills, take them for thrills!

Who cares about the pile of medical bills!

Pills, pills, to worsen your ills!

We are the ones who legally kill!

Pills, pills, come get your fill!

Whine all about it on Dr. Phil!

We’re the doctors, we own your ass!

A gallbladder stone is what you’ll pass!

VERSE 3

They could be labeled with an E or V

Swallow them all with sadistic glee

Taste the rainbow like a bag of Skittles

Use your hard-on before it gets little

FINAL LINE

Ask your doctor if Bullshitlexia is right for you.

Rest In Peace, Ned Vizzini

It seems rather odd that I would do a rest in peace segment for a man I didn’t know of until he died. The man in question is young adult author Ned Vizzini, who this past December committed suicide due to complications from depression and anxiety. He was only 32 years old. There are two reasons why I’m paying tribute to him despite never having read his books. One, suicide holds a special place in my heart. Two, mental illness also holds a special place in my heart. These two aspects of Ned Vizzini’s death are special to me because I’ve lived through them. When I was being bullied in high school in Chehalis, I contracted PTSD and felt like dying. When I was hearing negative voices in my head in my senior year at a different high school, it turned out I had schizophrenia and I still wanted to die. People consider suicide as an option because they see no other way out of their hardships. I didn’t know there was a treatment for PTSD (pills and EMDR therapy). I also didn’t know I had schizophrenia until I took a class in psychology and the symptoms became familiar. Ned Vizzini probably knew what he was dealing with inside his head, but he probably couldn’t take it anymore and saw no other way to relieve his mind other than suicide. Ned’s story should serve as a cautionary tale to anybody out there who’s dealing with a crippling amount of stress. The lesson here is that there is always help if you seek it out. Awareness plays a huge part in the recovery process as does a network of support whether it’s from friends, family, or professionals. Nothing is worth dying for, especially when you have something special to offer the ones you love. In Ned’s case, he had his writing to offer the world and I’d say he did quite well for himself. Kurt Cobain had his music to offer the world and he’s a cult figure. I know this isn’t a popular thing to say given how he died, but Chris Benoit had his wrestling abilities to offer the world. With so many things to live for and even less things to die for, why would suicide be an option? For every problem going on in your life, there is a solution of some kind. Finding that solution is hard work, I’ll admit. Sometimes it’s not immediately within reach. But the harder you fight for your heart and soul, the closer that solution will appear. I’ll close this blog entry by using a phrase the anti-abortion wing nuts have perverted over the years: choose life. When I say that to you all, it’s not a strike against abortion, it’s a strike against suicide. Together, we can fight our demons and win. Rest in peace, Ned Vizzini.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“Once upon a time, I swore I had a heart long before the world I knew tore it all apart. Once upon a time, there was a part of me I shared years before they took away the part of me that cared. I’ve been a thousand places and shook a million hands. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know just where I’ve been. I’ve flown a million miles and I’ve rode so many more. Everyday, a castaway, a vagabond, battle born.”

-Five Finger Death Punch singing “Battle Born”-