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Before we begin, this program contains the following:

Coarse Language
Drug Use
Sexual Referances
Gross Irvine Welsh Impersonation
One Instance Of Homophobia (on the part of a character, not the writer) is rated MA 15+ by the Juice classification commision and should not be veiwed by those under the age of 15 unless accompanied by a parent or guardian. Please use your disgression, if you don't like this sort of thing then you know that you shouldn't read it. And if you're under fifteen but you still want to read on, well, ok, since I was fifteen when I wrote it...

Part 1

This is good gear. I can tell because I'm fucked off my nut and I only did my first bump an hour ago. Nicky is sitting next to me, and whist normally we connect, enough to be able to talk to each other, right now we seem to be on different wavelengths. She's staring out the window of the car, out into the streaming rain and the shafts of light coming from street lamps. Ollie is driving, which I don't like, because he can't drive for shit in normal conditions, but it's wet and dark and he's probably just as fucked up as I am right now. Actually this is starting to worry me, but we're here, parked now and it's ok. Too much fucking silence though, no one's spoken for most of the trip.

-Is someone going to talk? For fuck sakes, we're here to have fun aren't we?

-Naw, we're here to get on each other's tits. Ollie smiles back at me from the front seat. I give him a grin but I'm not feeling too happy, I'm shit at snorting things and that ketamine was rough as fuck on my sinuses.

-You guys are fucked. Nicky suddenly blurts out, and then realizes that she's also a bit cunted. -Are we going in or what?

-I don't know Nicky. I'm kinda soaking up the vibes in this car, you know?

-Ollie, we're here for Bubble aren't we? Besides, no c**t's said anything since we left, we need to get out into the crowds. Nicky is giggling again, but it's not very infectious. I've already sort of zoned out of the conversation.

-They may not be pretty baby but I likes them all the same. Kinda like you. Ollie gives Nicky another bright grin as Nicky gives him the middle finger. Then he gets to giggling but I still don't feel very happy.

-You alright there ya c**t? Ollie grins and leans over the passenger seat to poke me in the ribs.

-Yeah man, I should have slept last night though, I'm cabbaged to this fucking seat.

-Well let's go then guys. Nicky blurts out again between even more giggling. -The only way to get un-cabbaged is to get up.

She opens the door and darts out into the rain, so Ollie and me are left with little choice but to follow her out. We run a few blocks, taking cover where we can, Ollie catches up to her but I'm having a hard time. Too many cigarettes, kills the lungs, slows the legs. But fuck that, you only live once as they say.

We get to Bubble and get hassled at the door by security. We're on the list thanks to Nicky's connections in the clubbing industry, but it's just like those big fuckers to treat everyone like shit. They take their time finding us on their copy and then grudgingly let us in. Those cunts get a fucking kick out of making people pay to get into gigs like this, and I can't afford to pay to get into clubs. Not right now anyway, because one might say that I've reinvested my money into drugs for the weekend. I'm loaded in that respect, but I've only got twenty bucks to throw in for fuel and to get food and water.

Bubble is probably the trippiest place on earth, with the right chemical aides of course. I'm not really much for gay clubs, because I always get hit on, but if you want to find a good club, Bubble is probably one of the best around here. I'm too fucked up to dance though, so I head to the bathrooms with Nicky to take stock of the situation. There are two sorts of bathrooms in Bubble, Bathrooms for doing your business and bathrooms for doing your other business. Suffice to say, there's no reason to leave the club if you pick up, it has facilities for that sort of thing. The other set of bathrooms is for doing drugs and that whole urination/excretion deal that most people would associate a bathroom with. Well, most normal people. On the average night you get around 80 percent gay guys, 20 percent chicks and straight guys. It's an odd mix, really camp young kids still in school, some older guys who got into the club scene for the sex, some fine women who you'd expect to see at Desecration or maybe up at some of the bars deeper in the city and just your normal run-of-the-mill type clubbing guy. I guess I fit into that last group, being straight, male and almost nineteen. I've only been here a handful of times, mainly because it's so difficult to get in for free.

Nicky pushes open the door to the men's room. They're not too bothered about the whole gender separation deal here, seeing how know one really knows who goes for who until you ask. We hit a cubical together and lock it up. There's plenty of room for a few people in the cubicles here, probably even more room in the other bathroom, if I ever dared to go in, which I so far haven't.

-Fuck! I'm in need of some rebalancing here Nick, have you got the coke?

-Nah, I gave it to Ollie. You don't want me taking care of the coke man. She smiles. She's so fucking beautiful when she smiles. Fuck, I'm still smarting from getting turned down by her last week at Matty's place. I swear to fuck she'd been giving me the eye all night and when I finally go up and ask her, you know, does she want to fuck, she just tells me she's still getting over Keith. Keith was fucking months ago man, I know when I'm being snubbed and it fucking hurts.

-Well what have we got?

-I've got all the crank, except I gave a bit to Ollie so he'd not have to go looking for us.

-Go looking for us? I thought we were doing this club thing together? Nicky gives me this look that sort of freaks me out. Because I'm getting the eye off her and I'm not about to try my luck again after what happened last time. When you go in expecting pussy and get nothing it's a kick in the balls, no matter how nicely she tells you to fuck off.

-We are, but I figured that we might want some time alone?

-Alone. Heh, I think we're in the wrong bathroom for that darlin?. I crack, but I'm still freaking out a bit. Nerves with women is probably one of my worst qualities. From my perspective anyway.

-That's for faggots, yir not a faggot. Are you? She comes closer and I sort of back into the toilet, then realize there's no where to back up and... Oh fuck, she's going for my fly, no escape, no surrender.

-Eh, naw. I guess not.


I'm feeling a lot better now, needless to say. We walk out of the toilets and there's good vibes all round. We each necked a post-fuck E and although I'm not coming up yet, the ketamine has laid off a bit. I can see Ollie running towards us, big smile on his face. He's been into the coke no doubt.

-Guys! Fucking hell. You, me and her, in there, now!

He pushes us back into the bathroom before we can protest. He's over to a cubicle and he's got the door open taking a piss. He comes out and then pushes us in with him, still grinning.

-Why are we all standing in a fucking toilet cubicle examining your piss man? We've got clubbing to do fir fuck sakes. I ask but Ollie answers me with actions, not words. He produces three squares of paper, the size of maybe an eighth of a postage stamp.

-Sunshine man. I fucking scored Sunshine off of some guy in the chill out zone. He hands me the three tabs of acid for examination. Indeed, they all have little orange suns stamped on them, this sort are supposed to be good. Legendary actually, but I've never had one, never even seen one. It seems too good to be true.

-Shit man, how much did you pay for these?

-I got ten for a hundred bucks, and some of the coke. Here's the deal though, I'll take all that ketamine off your hands for seven of these. He produces a five strip more from his pocket and waves them at me.

-Sure, so you keep three?

-Yeah man, I can sell that K for twice what I paid for the acid.

I give Ollie the ketamine. Half a gram of it in a little weed bag. It's a good deal; acid is rare, good acid is nonexistent, well almost.

-We'll have to test this out before this transaction is official.

-Sure, sure. I had two about half an hour ago. I've been looking for you guys for ages; you've been in here all this time?

Nicky gives me a conspiratorial look and I grin back.

-Bet you were fucking snorting up all our speed, eh? Maybe I should have a line to catch up. You forget I have all the coke, so play nice.

-Yeah man, well, I'm hitting this acid. Do you want one baby? Ollie looks up at us with a knowing grin.

-Baby? I see now. He smiles.

-Naw, I don't want any acid. Nicky tells me, ignoring Ollie -Not really my scene.

-Alright, well, how are we going to handle this. How are you feeling man, you had two, right?

-Yeah, got another for next weekend, Gracie's Halloween party.

Something sort of hit me, I don't know what. Maybe I was trying to show off in front of Nicky, maybe I just wanted to settle that reoccurring who-can-take-more-drugs argument Ollie and I have regularly when we're straight once and for all. Because I'm raising my hand to my mouth, all seven under my tongue. Ollie bursts out laughing, nearly going down to one knee, his face is going red. But by the time he's done and he's back up all he can say is;

-Fuck me Davie man, in about an hour you're going to be off in that great big trout farm in the sky.

-Yir crazy Dave. Nicky tells me. But she?s not smiling, she?s almost concerned. -Seven tabs is way too much, bad trips n' that.

-Let's not mention those two words for the next twelve hours, right?

-I'm not leaving just because you're going mental on that acid man. We've come to dance.

-Nicky, we have enough speed, coke and grass to set me straight if I pull a freak out. I might get wired to fuck in the process but we can settle me down if we need to.

-No way man. Ollie tells me. -Where's the nearest bottle shop? The only way to control a trip is with drink.

-Forget it! I tell them both. -I'm not wasting seven tabs of acid, there will be no drinking and only moderate use of the coke and speed. I intend to pull this off lady and gentleman. I rub my hands together for theatrical effect. -Better let me have another E just incase though. The other one I had isn't working.

-Take it easy man, you're heading towards terminal drug psychosis. Ollie smiles. -But we don't want to mention those three words either do we?

-Damn straight. Now can we get out of this stinking cubicle?

We walk out and hit the dance floor. But I'm not really in the mood for dancing; even when the E finally kicks in and I come up in a big way I still don't really want to dance. I leave Nicky and Ollie and sit down in the chill out zone. Suddenly things get very strange.

There are snaking lines running horizontal on the walls, they twist and writhe along at a terrible pace. A girl sits down next to me, eyes like saucers, eccied off her head.

-Hey, I'm Tam.

-Err, I'm Dave. Davie, that is.

-Davie? You look familiar?

-Keith's place, weekend before last. You came to score Es and Keith and me were listening to The Idiot.

-That's right. You're into that punk thing.

-It's not punk, Iggy's solo career was pop.

-I don't know much about punk, more into clubbing. You didn't tell me you were gay at Keith's.

-You didn't ask, but I'm not. Just here with some friends, we got on the list so I figured we may as well take advantage of it. She looks at me in a sort of hurt way, I think, though it might be the acid. -Sorry if I was a bit snappy at you before, you'll have to excuse me. I'm fucking tripping out of my face.

She smiles but her arms are changing into flailing tentacles and the features of her face start to melt away into nothing.

-Aw that's ok. I don't really pick up on people's moods when I'm on E anyway.

-I... see...

-We must get out!

I twist around in my seat and find Ollie pulling on my sleeve. He seems very distant, stretchy arms, oldest trick in the book? What?


-Don't fucking argue just follow me!

It takes me a little while to realize that I'm holding onto the faceless tentacle-armed Tam, that whist Ollie is dragging Nicky and me out of the club, I'm dragging Tam along with us. Or is she holding onto me? It's more a sort of distasteful melt onto my arm on her part. Her body has been rendered down to a thick sludge, yet it still retains its integrity, still stays as a whole object.

Ollie bundles us into the car, all three of us in the back, him in the front. He hits the accelerator and we speed off.

-What the fuck is going on man?! Nicky screams at me. I think she's screaming at me, but I can't be sure.

-I'm liquid, please use the next checkout.

Who fucking said that? Oh shit.

What the fuck? Ollie is driving? Oh god.

-They were trying to kill me man! We had to get out, fuck!

-What the fuck is happening! I hear myself scream. Nicky looks shaken but she's in a considerably better condition than me. Terrible things are happening. Tam has rematerialized next to me, but the car is swerving all over the road, giant animals walk across the black, wet bitumen. Lights illuminate the cruel faces that leer out of the ground like craters; their mouths catch rainwater, pools of filth swirl in their empty eye sockets.

We've stopped. Nicky is screaming at Ollie, then she's out of the car. I can see her drag Ollie out of the front seat, onto the road. She stands over him like a schoolteacher who's trying to discipline a child but the child starts crying and the schoolteacher wants to be firm but still not appear cruel. She picks him up after yelling at him about risking our lives or something and throws in him the passenger seat. She gets in the driver's side and we're off again.

-Jesus! Ollie screams at her. -Calm the fuck down!

-Calm the fuck down? You pig! We nearly got killed and you tell me to calm the fuck down?! She yells back. -You're full of acid, you can't fucking drive!

I can't help it, I piss myself laughing, folding over onto a shocked looking Tam.

-Nicky! Where the fuck is the coke! I need the fucking coke! The car swerves again as Ollie grasps Nicky by her tank top, laughing manically. She slams him in the chest with her closed fist, he reels back coughing.

-You bitch! Where the fuck am I you cunts! I'm fucking drowning!

-You're drowning. I tell him seriously. -And you've got the coke, which I want.

-Coke? Oh right. Wait a second man.

I work out that Tam must have put the seat belt on me when we started speeding away from the club and get it unbuckled so I can lean over at Ollie. He's over the film canister we stashed it in before heading out to Bubble, using a tenner to rack up the powder.

-I'll... Snnnnnnh... Give you the... Snnnnnnnnh... coke for the nitrous. It's in the back part of my seat, on your side.

He takes another long snort and points to the pocket in front of me.

-Fuck you, keep the coke. I'm getting the first hit off the nitrous.

-Where are we going? Tam cuts in. That's right, we just kidnapped her from the club.

-Sorry about that Tam. You just sort of melted onto my sleeve and Ollie was pulling me.


-Yeah, I don't know. You sort of just turned into this liquid sludge and next thing I know we're in the car.

She looks ok, she's E'd so I guess she doesn?t mind being stolen away into the night by three crazies.

-Ok, listen. We'll continue this conversation in a few minutes. I load up a bulb and take a long hit of nitrous oxide. -I won't be able... to... to... to... woah... woah... woah. The sound of the car fades and all my words echo out into the cosmos.

The car comes apart. All the panels rip away from slow motion, revealing a beach scene. Children playing happily, great sea creatures lope around like playful dogs, fetching sticks and chasing their hundred foot long tails. Suddenly I'm frightened. Laughing gas doesn't usually do this; it?s normally just a dizzying high for a few moments.

-That's it, I'm fucked. A lost cause.



-Where are we going?

-Where are we going Nicky?

-Ollie's I guess. That ok with you?

-Yeah, I mean, we've got to hole up somewhere. Right?

Tam lets me rest my head on her lap, she strokes my hair. Nicky is seething in the rear vision mirror.

Ollie is perched on one of the armchairs, reading out loud from a book. Nicky, Tam and myself sit on the floor to form a circle around him. Well, not around Ollie, he's part of the circle, but because he's sitting in the armchair reading he's got everyone's attention. There's a water pipe going around with a bowl of mix. Both Tam and Nicky had decided to make a night of watching us trip the fuck out, perhaps all the coke and speed we still have consoled them to our needs. Then again, Tam was never angry with me for dragging her away from the club, she's looking at me in a very maternal way, and Nicky has an odd caring vibe about her as well. We're going to need as much caring as possible to pull through this one.

-They lie in exterior darkness. For, remember, the fire of hell gives forth no light. As, at the command of god, the fire of the Babylonian furnace lost its heat but not its light, so, at the command of god, the fire of hell, while retaining the intensity of its heat, burns eternally in darkness. It's is a never...

-Jesus man, I'm a fucking sinner. What are you trying to say? I demand.

-Shut up damn you! I have to read this thing to clear out my head. I can't stop thinking! Ollie screams -I have to read man, I have to read out loud and preach so I don't have to think for myself. If I think I'll die man, I'll fucking die!

-Ok, Ollie, shit. Read ahead, what awaits us sinners in the depths of hell?

-Well, Ollie suddenly smiles, -It is a never ending storm of darkness, dark flames and dark smoke of burning brimstone, amid which the bodies are heaped one upon another without even a glimpse of air. Of all the plagues with which the land of the Pharaohs were smitten one plague alone, that of darkness, was called horrible. What name, then, shall we give to the darkness of hell which is to last not for three days alone but for all eternity? Nicky passes the bong to Ollie; the cone is packed so he doesn't have to stop for very long. He hands the book to me and yells.


-What? Man, I'm trying to handle seven trips here, I can't fucking read.

-Do it!

-Fuck man, ok. The horror of this straight and dark prison is increased by its awful stench. All the filth of the world...

-Nah man, yir not doing it right. You have to read it like you're a preacher man. There's no atmosphere, I can't feel the stinging vermin burrow into my skin?

-Ollie man, shut up, I'm fucking tripping.

-I can't feel my skin singe with...


-What? Oh right, sorry. He has his cone and passes the water pipe over to me. I give him the book back and he gets back to reading. The acid has leveled out, but I'm waiting for the next big wave. On acid I find that sometimes I feel like I'm heading straight back to normality and then BAM I'm fucking seeing caterpillars crawling on the walls.

And it's just like that, because I'm getting dizzy so I stick a rolled up twenty-dollar bill into what's left of the coke and take a long hit. Ugh, there we go, all better. The mirror on the wall reflects a very seedy looking character, all the signs of terminal drug abuse. My eyes are so open I nearly freak myself out, but it's ok, I can just look away, any time I feel freaked out I can just look away yes that's right I can just look at something else and everything will be OK YES OK VERY MUCH SO BUT WOW THIS ACID IS COMING BACK ON QUICK AND I?M NOT GOING TO BE SLEEPING FOR DAYS AT THIS RATE...

-...becomes foul and unbreathable when it's been long enclosed. Consider what must be the foulness of hell. Imagine some foul and putrid corpse that has lain rotting and decomposing in the grave, a jelly like mass of liquid corruption... I piss myself and Ollie looks sternly at me and then chants over my laughter. ...Imagine! Such a corpse a prey to the flames, devoured by the fire of burning brimstone and giving off dense choking fumes of nauseous loathsome decomposition. And then imagine this sickening stench, multiplied a millionfold and a million fold again from the millions of fetid carcasses massed together in the reeking darkness, a huge rotting... The floor melts away and we sit hovering over darkness. But I can hear the screams of the damned. OH GOD WHAT'S HAPPENING?! OH SHIT HERE WE GO AGAIN. -...Human fungus! Imagine all this, and you will have some idea of the horror of the stench of hell. But this stench is not, horrible though it is, the greatest physical torment to which the damned are subjected. The torment of fire is the greatest torment to which the tyrant has ever subjected his fellow creatures! Place your fingers for a moment in the flame of a candle and you will feel the pain of fire. But our earthly fire was created by God for the benefit of man, to maintain in him the spark of life and to help him in the useful arts, whereas the fire of hell is of another quality and was created by god to torture and punish the unrepentant sinner. OH GOD! I?M A FUCKING SINNER MAN. DON?T FUCKING SEND ME DOWN THERE MAN, NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO




Nicky is over to me, but she looks sinister and plotting. I back away but I'm tied down and there's no escape.

-It's alright Dave, you're not going to hell. It doesn't exist. IT DOESN'T EXIST.

-You've had your chance to repent Davie, now it's time to face your judgment.

-What said that?!

-It's ok Dave, look at me. THERE IS NO HELL.

-You're lying, why are you lying?


Oh shit.

-Because the universe is expanding. Just between you and me.

-Who are you?

-Shut up!


-And we just keep going on and on and on out into infinity. Out into space at a billion miles a minute, of course, your foolish devices for measuring time and distance are meaningless. Time does not even exist; you aren't even a real person. But we will get to this in a moment. Now when it's gone too far, the universe is just going to snap back in on it's self and fall back into a condensed mass.

-A pulsating universe?


Part Two

My head's spinning like a motherfucker. Tam is sitting in one of the armchairs, quiet and just digging the come down off her eccie. I thought I was peaking before but then the acid just went up a notch, objects started melting into transparent goo and I just sat there looking around at everything. My heart rate has gone up, I can feel it beating away, BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP... Oh god, my heart's stopped. I sit here paralyzed with fear as this fucking bastard of an organ just sits placidly. Oh no, how can this be? I'm still alive, functioning, but my heart isn't beating. Then it comes back, but it's in my ears and it echoes out into the room.

-Can you guys hear that?


-My heart's in my fucking head man, I can hear it beating, THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP.

-It's the acid man, relax. At least it's regular, after all that coke you'd expect it to go THUMP THUMP... THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP... THUMP... THUMP

-Nah man, I thought it stopped before but it was ok, I think I'm tripping out.

-Me too man, that light shade is glowing.

-What nightshade?

-That one, over there below the clock.

-That's a nightshade? Shit!

-I'm stoned man. We shouldn't have smoked all that weed, it's interfering with ma trip.

-My fault man, I'm sorry. I just needed something to calm me down so I kept chopping up more when we ran out of mix.

-Nah, I could have just stopped. All those uppers though, you can rip anything on speed, any sized cone. And you don't get any of the down effects for a long time.

-You fool, it's because you haven't had any amphetamines for so long. Have a line of speed or something.

-Nicky has all the speed, and she's sleeping. This acid is coming down. I might need to crash at some point.

-Sleep is letting god win. Besides, you can't leave me alone! I'm still tripping the fuck out! You c**t! We're staying up until we can't stay up no more baby.

-Fine, it's been a while hasn't it?


-Since we pulled a stunt like this.

-Yeah man, I haven't seen much of you lately. You've had your phone out all week.

-Yeah, I needed some time alone, un-contactable.

-How so?

-Too many drugs, too many psychedelic drugs. Fucking with my head.

-Well this isn't helping much is it?

-It's different. Man, drug abuse can be the saddest thing in the world, but it can be the funniest thing too.

-What do you mean man?

-Well look, I mean, you see it on the news all the time. People fighting addictions, getting The Fear. I thought I was going crazy, in a bad way.

-That's no good man. People like Keith, they can't handle the medicine. They're crazy before they're crazy, you know what I mean?

-Yeah, well. He's gone now. But I was going crazy before because I was so afraid of going crazy. I don't want that to happen man. I don't want to end up like him.

-Ollie man, the difference between Keith and us is that we know when we're going a bit schizo. He didn't suspect a thing, even after he went nuts.

-Yeah, it's funny how the fear of going crazy can drive you crazy?

-It's a temporary thing but, not permanent. You're a good person man, a real person. You see cunts around man, they're fake people. I mean, they're flesh and blood, and they're human, but you can't get to know them man. They've got their shields up. You can never fucking get them to tell you exactly how they feel about something, even really little stupid things that are meaningless man. That's why they're fake, because they're never themselves.

-Yeah, they're everywhere man. Tools of the machine and all that. It sounds like drug fucked revolutionary shit but it's true.

-Man, there's a lot of things that are the stereotype sort of behavior for whatever you are that are more fucking true than the most fucking original philosophical thought.

-There's a lot of that that isn't true though, the fake people are all a stereotype and they're just fake.

-But that's because we stereotype them, but who stereotypes us?

-Everyone else man.

-The machine, right?

-If you want to put it in such a cuntish way then yes. Society, no?

-Yep, more like authority.

-Yeah, media.


-Same thing... Davie man, you screwed Nicky before, right?

-Yeah. I was trying to get into her all night last week, and she told me no. Then she fucking corners me in a cubical and that's that. You're not bothered are you?

-Nah man. Well, I mean. I'd shag her and that... Yeah, I guess I am bothered.

-Shit Ollie, I'm not going to have a fucking rights-to-the-girl argument with you, not you man.

-Nah Davie. It's not like that. Freedom of choice, right?

-Yeah man, besides, she just needed something to get over Keith. Him kicking her out like that?

-I know man.

-It doesn't mean nothing.

-Dave, it's cool. We're friends, we don't have to tip toe around each other.

-Yeah, you're right. That come down got you by the balls?

-Yeah. I'm not sleeping though.

-So your head is better?

-No, not really. But it's ok. Like I was saying before, when it's funny, it's alright. Like that Charles Bukowski, he was a fucking drunk, that's it. From sixteen till he died he just drank and womanized. But he was happy man, and his writing made that life funny. Society can't make you miserable if your life is funny man. Because that's our shield man, that's how we protect ourselves, and it leaves us completely open for people to read, our most inner thoughts and all that bullshit. Everyone can see it, and it's fucking hilarious, so it's ok. Being tragic is fine as well. Like the tragic philosopher, but he wasn't a fucking acidhead was he?

-No, but I was thinking about that Nietzsche c**t, I think I get some of what he was saying. I was thinking about what you were reading before, about hell. And I realized that if god exists we're fucked. But God would only exist because you think He exists, so when I die, if I find myself fucking being judged by that cunt. I'm just gonna tell him fuck you c**t, what right do you have to judge me? You made me, that puts the fucking responsibility on you. If I'm a fuck up, you're a fuck up. Don't fucking take out your failure on me. So if god does exist, a manifestation of others' beliefs, we have to fucking kill the c**t or we're fucked. How do we kill him? We fucking don't believe in the c**t, and on top of that we go down with the fucking middle finger outstretched. I have a right to nothingness for fuck sakes, when I die my soul is the sole property of moi, sorry pop, I'm over eighteen, your custody ends here.

-Well if it isn't the fucking anti-Christ himself. Ollie laughs.

-Sure Ollie, Nietzsche said god was dead because he was killing the c**t himself, blow by blow. Religion has lost a lot of ground over the last few centuries. We may have had our job done for us. But what I'm saying is that if it's not we can't let the sudden shock that that c**t is up there make us beg for mercy. We have to have balls and say no I will not fucking grovel at your feet, get fucked ya c**t! Put in the killing blow.

-Yir out of your head.

-Let's wake up Nicky and give her the once over, you and me. I piss myself laughing and struggle to get the last words out. Ollie laughs too.

-Let's just wake her up and get the speed off of her.

-I'm up for that.

EDIT: Every apostophie was a ?. So I changed it. And if I ever have to see the word 'lady part' again I'll kill myself. Mata, is my liberal usage of the C word ok still, even though the swear filter blocked it?

EDIT AGAIN: After little deliberation I have replaced 'lady parts' which the swear filter replaced the dreaded 'c' word with to c**t. This story is now actually readable, but by the looks of the on-line list everybody has got to it already... *sighs* You said there wasn't a swear filter on this forum Mata, I just spent half an hour editing this thing, I'm not angry, but you could have at least told me in our PM convo.
This is one of those complimentary/not posts that don't help.

It's bloody good, the use of language is excellent it all works and you can tell each voice from the next without getting confused so the characterization is there.

But you lost my interest after about two paragraphs and then I skimmed it. This isn't really a reflection on your writing in that A) I hate reading off a screen and cool.gifI don't like Irvin Welsh either.

I couldn't find a plot, usually I can even when I skim (a habit you quickly pick up reading submissions) but a plot often isn't the point of this type of writing.

So yes, I can recognise it as being very good, but I didn't like it. though not in an offensive you;'re rubbish kind of way.

All that should come across as a compliment. Hopefully.

Thanks, I know that is sort of writing is niche writing. Where the majority of people think it's good but don't enjoy it in the slightest and about five percent pee their pants with joy (Well, that's the idea, Hunter S. Thompson and Irvine Welsh for example). This thing was written a long time ago and the only reason I took so long to get permission to put it up and deal with all the problems i had getting it here was because I intend to do a more mature true to life thing in the same sort of vein and I'd like some feed back. But thanks, honestly I don't expect many people to like this stuff, even for that sort of writing it's badly written. It's also one of my very few attempts at fiction, I really can't make stories up for s**t.

Yeah, I dig completely and honestly I get this sort of rap alot. Which is a bad thing when you consider that if I get into writing professionally I have to write for this very small market, making any author who gets it right an instant cult classic, but stone broke for the duration of their natural lives.

Which is the story of my life so far, stone broke that is sad.gif
I quite like Hunter S, I posted in the drugs forum before I read this, co-incidence, sort of. I don't think it has to be niche markets, I've always thought of the above as a style of writing rather than a genre. You could probably alter it to fit a genre, horror, fantasy, crime and be thought of as pretty groundbreaking.

As for being skint, I think that's in the "I want to be a writer" contract.

Indeed, Hunter especially isn't a genre. Mainly because most of his writing isn't like Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas one bit, I mena you can recognise the style but it isn't a drug orgy for two hundred pages, most of his books are eight hundred pages of indepth Gonzo political insight, and IMO it makes for a better read. Not knocking FALILV of course, a master piece, but The Great Shark Hunt and Fear And Loathing: On The Campaign Trail have surface meanings rather than abstract reactionary ones. Botha re valid, but I enjoy a change.

As for Irvine, I consider that sort of writing to be a genre, Shock Literature, which is fine but it gets to be a bit boring, it's too much of a formula novel to be enjoyed consistantly (thoughout all his books). I, for one, found Porno to be disappointing, being an excuse to have characters having explicit sex/take massive amounts of drugs etc. and I guess I have done something similar in the above, but i did it on purpose, fully admitting that what I was writing was a self indulgent wank. But a nessisary activity none the less.
I'd be interested in reading your journalism, if you want to contact me off list at

Safety Sizzors
Yeve done it again mate!
How come this place gets it but no FF?

Ye really show fire it over at home just so the rest of us get to see more like it.
I dont know how ye do it but keep on! cool.gif
Sent you a mail drmng.

Yeah well, I think I may have broken the submission agreement with Urban Freakshow by posting it here Subi, but yeah, you're right, I haven't given you guys anything to read for ages. There's the link in my sig down at FF if you get bored, plenty of stuff there.

Yeah well. I'll get you guys something in the near future, this post was for selfish reasons, because I need feed back so i can use it towards something similar. And FF doesn't get enough people replying to get a good idea of what people think. Also you sick bastards love this sort of stuff, I wanted to see what normal thought about it laugh.gif

Ah well, my humour isn't very sharp today, you'll have to forgive me.
Silver Star Angel of Da Towers
Oh snap. I am never doing drugs. Where did you get the inspiration from?
Sir Maxerpopple
I like the interpretation of Nietzche.
It's all just a bunch of scattered philosophical discussions with different people and a large amount of seperate incidents and experiences into a story that was cemented together with complete fiction.

I don't know, I was sitting around one day and I just decided to write something self indulgent. It turned into something slightly more interesting so I started showing people. The UF took it and put it on their site. I never had any suddenly revelation, but the idea had been in my head for a long time before i ended up writing it.

And thanks Sir Maxerpopple smile.gif
Well, you know I like it, obviously cool.gif

I agree that it doesn't have much of a plot, but I don't think that plots are particularly necessary, particularly in short fiction. A novel might need to go somewhere just to sustain momentum, but even then that's not always the case. Hell, if you think this has no direction, you should read my writing. Nothing happens.

And Juice, I'll email you as soon as I stop being too lazy to type more than two sentences. Hopefully that'll be sometime soon.
Take your time, I just need an indication of whether you think the merger is a good idea so I can allocate my time accordingly. It's strange that my holidays see me working longer hours than I would at school. But twelve hours of writing at home is preferable to six at school being force fed information that may or may not be true, but is always irrelevant.

Have you read James Joyce? The master of making it seem like things are happening when they're not and making it seem like nothing is happening when it is. But it's not as easy to read as this stuff, which is pre-chewed mush in comparison.

My book isn't really a novel, it's long enough to be one but it's more a sort of test bed for experimental journalism. Except I'm firing blanks because the only thing that's being reported is events in my life. I figure anything that passes on information in print is journalism in one form or another. But yeah, I don't know, I desperately need some outside advice, my friends love it but think it's pointless. They fail to see the point and I'm too much of a nice guy to explain it to them, the problem is that they're far too close to the subject to actually have a valid opinion, seeing as most of them are main characters, whom I write about unmercifully, with their consent of course. But the great thing about this book is that, taken out of context, I think it reads quite well as whatever the reader whant's to treat it as, but in context the way they read it (having been present at events/knowing most of the other characters) it reads badly because they cannot appriciate the fact that the average reader doesn't know anything about them. That's what makes it real, because it is.

Ah look, I've gone off on a tangent and tried to sell my book to you all... I've been practiceing too hard for that all important e-mail when the time comes to write it. Sorry smile.gif All I wanted to say is that you shouldn't pain yourself replying to my frantic e-mails if you don't have the time/strength/interest. Or all three or some kind of wierd combination. I just need to know your thoughts, even if they are in two sentences wink.gif

Oh, and the legal page on UF is missing, so am I breaking The Rules by posting the story here? I can't remember how long I have to wait before it becomes ok. You'll be hearing from my attorney shortly cool.gif
Ah, all right. The thing is, I *do* think it's a pretty good idea, but I don't know if anyone else will and since I never actually talk to anyone else about anything... well, that's the delay, anyway. Sorry 'bout that.

I'll probably read James Joyce at some point, but for me the trouble with anything remotely literary is that I tried to read it all when I was a kid (as in, five or six years ago), thought it was boring, and was put off most of it because of that. If I read it now I might like it (or I might not, I have no idea), but I can't seem to bring myself to do it for some reason. I was a weird kid.

Your book sounds pretty interesting... I'll have to read it sometime in the (hopefully not too distant) future. Selling books is tough though... I can't think of a single decent publisher that accepts unsolicited submissions these days. I sent my first book out once to a place that I *thought* was accepting manuscripts, and got a reply saying that they were closed for submissions. This is what annoys me about the publishing industry these days... but that's a whole different rant.

And yes, the legal page is missing and we've been planning to do something about that for ages, but we're not going to get around to it until we finish the new layout (which is actually almost done, except for a few flaws that are keeping me from finishing it). But either way, you're not breaking any rules. We only ask for one-time rights, so you'd be free to submit your work anywhere (even to a paying market) afterwards if you wanted to. I think it's a month or so before you can do that... I forget. I've got it all written out somewhere...

And here I am with my chatty little post, which for some reason seems easier than writing an actual email. I am so lazy.
Ok, I figured as much on the merger front. The fact is, you guys are the ones getting the short end of the deal, that is a massive change in medium and not much in return. I can put up money to get registrations for buisness status, and perhaps supply us with a lawyer and accountant. But they are only maybes...

Anyway, that sort of stuff i better suited to Email, or even PMs, but thanks for telling me ASAP smile.gif

Anyway, get a literary agent Aidan, it's free until you get published. The trick is getting one to represent you.
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