The light, par l'otarie beige
Aouch. Aouch. Aouch. Did this gigantic asshole just fucking shoot me? Fuck that hurts. Aouchhhh. Fuck me sideways! Ha. Fuck me sideways. That’s a funny expression. And thinking about how funny that expression is has distracted me for like half a second from the fact that I just got shot in the fucking chest. And that I’m probably gonna die. Thanks, funny expression. Back to pain now. Double pain, actually, because after dipshit-mc-dipshitster shot me with his ridiculously small gun, I fell on the ground. And asphalt hurts, too, when you’re 6 feet 5. Well, probably when you’re shorter, too. In hindsight, pointing out how small his gun was after he threatened me with it was probably not the best idea I’ve had today. I mean, he was already pretty pissed. But I couldn’t stop myself. Had he pointed a real fucking weapon at me, I probably would have apologized. Instead, he had to take out this fucking toy gun that he probably found in a bloody cereal box. Ew. Now I have an image of eating cereals with blood instead of milk. Just thinking about it is giving me a gross-ass metallic taste in my mouth. Wait, no, that’s actual blood. Right. I was shot. I keep forgetting. Silly me. Ok so now what? I just die? Is this where my entire life plays for me like a movie or something? That’s gonna be boring. Gonna see lots of porn I guess. Or images of me masturbating to porn. Depends on if this is a POV movie or if I observe myself like a ghost of Christmas past. I hope it’s POV. I do not want to see the face I make when I jack-off. Or when I poop. Or when I do anything, really. Aouch. This whole bleeding to death thing is painful as hell. Do not recommend. If for some reason I ever get to give life advice to anyone, it’ll be “whatever you do, do not get shot”. Oh. Great now everything is dark. That’s the end, I guess? Wait, no, some light? Oh geez. Talk about a fucking cliché. I’m literally in a tunnel and there’s light at the end. Are you joking me. No life movie, that I’m kind of happy about, but a fucking tunnel with light at the end. So what do I do now? I’m guessing I must chose between staying here in pain or go towards the light and not be in pain anymore. But then I’m dead. Which is kind of a bummer. But also probably inevitable because I do not think this motherfucker shot me in a public enough place that someone is going to notice and call 911 in time for me to have even the slightest chance of survival. I’m not sure, actually. I’m starting to forget what even happened. I’ve been in this tunnel for like 12 seconds and I’m already forgetting who I was. Maybe I’ve been here longer? How long have I been rambling? I’m losing my senses. Ugh. Fuck me sideways! Ha. Fuck me sideways. That’s a funny expression. Wait, did I think that already? Anyway. So, all I gotta do to not die is not walk towards the light? Seems easy enough. Though it is pulling at me. Like I really don’t want to go towards the light, but I also really want to at the same time. Kind of a weird feeling. Not sure what to make of it. I was never attracted by light. I’m more of a night owl. I like hanging out in the dark, where the sun cannot hurt my skin. And look at me now. In the darkest tunnel. I can literally see jack shit. And all I want to do is walk towards the light. I guess I will? That would at least stop the pain. I think. I hope. Ugh but then I’m dead. I think. I hope not. Wait how can I even walk if I’ve been shot. I guess I’m just a floating soul or something right now. Then why is the pain still there though? Quite unfair if you ask me. Getting worse, too. Stupid tiny gun and it’s tiny bullet. Come to think of it, a real big gun would’ve killed me right away so that would have sucked, too. Or sucked less? I mean if I’m gonna die anyway I could do without the pain that precedes. So, we’ll see I guess. Wait. Holy shit! That was bright as fuck. Blinding light in my tunnel for a second. Then dark again. Fuck, it just happened again! What the actual what. It felt like someone forcibly opened my eyes just to jam their flashlight in it. What kind of asshole does that to a corpse? Oh I get it. Some EMT must have gotten to me. Yeah. I can hear them freaking out. It’s like they’ve never seen a dying man. Maybe wrong line of work, there, friend. They’re hurting me. Some prick is pressing on the wound. Y’all are trying to stop the bleeding? A little late, bud. I’m done for. Should’ve floated towards the light when I had the chance. Now I’m kind of stuck. I’m tired. Gonna rest for a bit.
Ok, I’m waking up. Well, my brain is, I still can’t move. Which, I must say, annoying. But the pain is mostly gone so that’s cool. I guess I’m on morphine. Hope they keep it coming. At this point, possible addiction is a non-issue, so I might as well die high. So. What now? It’s still dark. Can’t see the light anymore. It’s just full-blown dark. I don’t care for it. I’m still hearing people talking. Some cop is talking, I think. They sound police-y at least. I think they’re talking to my mom? Why the fuck is my mom talking to the police? Oh, right. Her son got shot. Kind of a bummer. That explains why she’s balling, too. I wish I could tell her I’m alive because her crying is annoying the hell out of me. I’m tired. I’ll go back to sleep.
Every day is kind of the same now. Waking up. Then back to sleep. Then awake again. But only ever kind of awake because I’m, like, unconscious. Or semi-conscious? I don’t know what to call it. I’m awake-ish. I can hear everything around me. But I cannot react. And it’s boring. Same fucking day, every day. My mom talks to doctors. She’s asking them when I’m going to wake up. They’re telling her that they don’t know. That I seem stable. That even if I wake up, I’ll probably have permanent damage due to the blood loss. That she should talk to me because who knows, I might hear it. Then they leave the room, she cries some more, tells me she loves me, then turns on the TV and puts some annoying-ass sitcom that I can only guess was filmed in front of a live audience. I can never hear the show, but I can hear the laughs. It’s absolutely terrible. Ugh. Fuck me sideways. Ha. Fuck me sideways. That’s still a funny expression. Still no light in my tunnel. It’s just a tunnel. Pitch-dark tunnel with nothing in it. You’d think being in a coma I’d have some sort of fun power over my brain. Or at least, could I dream of something, so I don’t just see black everywhere. But no. Just every day hearing my mom cry and watch shit-ass TV. And then, after visiting hours, just silence.
I do not know how long I’ve been out. Long, I think. Every day being the exact same day as the day before. Though, some days, stuff happens that it almost exciting. Like, there’s a beep in my machine and nurses freak out for about 12 seconds. One day, some professor came to my room and shoved his finger up my ass, then told students to do the same. There were a bunch of students. Lots of fingers tickled my butthole that day. I did not feel a thing, but I was able to hear their disgust. Apparently, finger-fucking coma patients is a normal way of learning medicine. If I ever wake up, imma make them buy me dinner or something. Eh, who am I kidding? I’m not gonna wake up. If I was more spiritual, I’d probably think this is some sort of purgatory-like test. I must free my soul of all the wrong I’ve done and then I can wake up. Or die in peace. And in the meantime, I’m stuck in this limbo. Here’s the ting, though. I can’t do the requested soul-searching because I cannot remember shit. I think I was shot. I remember some sort of tiny gun being fired at me. But I don’t remember why. At this point, the only reason why I know that the annoying crying lady that comes here most days is my mother is the fact that she is annoyingly crying and calling me her son to doctors. But I don’t know anything else about her. Well, she has shit TV taste, I know that.
Oh. Interesting. The doctors are trying to convince the crying woman to pull the plug. I’m brain-dead, they say. If I was brain-dead, I couldn’t hear you, you fucker. So maybe, just maybe, you suck at your job and that’s the reason I’m still in this coma. She’s crying even more than before. I want to tell her that I’m not brain dead. That I can hear her. That I might wake up at some point because I still have some consciousness. But I cannot. Because brain-dead or not, I am indeed a useless sac of cells, right now. They’re gonna give up on me. They’re gonna pull the plug. Because they don’t think I can hear them. Lame. They’ve convinced her to “let me go”. She said a few words. Not very interesting ones. Then they pulled the plug. The tunnel is getting narrower. I know that, even though I cannot see shit. Except the light. The light is back. And pulling me, harder than before. I can’t fight it anymore. I’m going towards it. It’s overwhelming me. We’re done, I think. What a dumb death. Fuck me sideways. Ha. Fuck me sideways. That’s a funny thought to die with.