Ecstasy
Ecstasy is Death
?Drugs are the devil;
their mission is not
complete until they
have consumed all
Man-kind.?
- De? Michael
You okay, Sam?
Sam Simons laughed as Timothy?s head began to grow fat, gradually twisting grotesquely out of shape, until the skin began to melt and blood began to drip. A snot bubble burst just as his ears bent, became pink, and twisted out of shape. He was surprised, however, to discover he himself was changing. His skin was slowly bending to and fro, like a weak tree swaying in the wind. It was changing colour too: from bright and pink to dull and grey, before going orangey and then finally purple. And his voice - yes, that was certainly something to consider. Timothy?s as well. No longer were they the bright, happy, excited voices they had once been ? they were dull and monotonous - as tedious and unhappy as the sparks of the morning light. Sam began to shiver with excitement.
Sam, should I call an ambulance?
Sam continued to laugh as Timothy?s body began to loosen, tighten, and loosen some more. Timothy seemed to be laughing, as his body became more and more like jelly. Then slowly his clothes and shoes began to tighten, rip, and tear, before finally falling noiselessly to the ground. Now he stood dexterously before him; his skin was weak and tight, rather resembling an old, wrinkled face. But now it seemed not a body at all. There were no hands, feet, arms or toes - it was plain and sour looking: no skin at all, just blood dripping. Drip, dripping. Timothy looked like the devil. He had horns growing out of his forehead and his mouth was torn and jagged. He held a pitchfork at his side, which hardly managed to cover the curving tale which was working its way forward.
Sam, how many did you have? Three? Four?
Sam giggled as his attention was once more diverted. At the other side of the room - which, mind you, was now getting darker and darker as the music thumped violently away - a plain television set was switched on to President Bush. He stood side-by-side with Osama Bin Laden, wrapped in warm affection, speaking on friendly terms. ?Today, fellow Americans,? he was saying, ?the war of terrorism ends. Today we join allegiance with death. Today our toils and worries are left behind. Today, fellow Americans - today it all begins?.? The voice trailed off as Timothy let out a scream of laughter. Sam recoiled as his skin began to boil. Bubbles of blood and puss began to run down his arm.
Look, Sam, I?m gonna call the ambulance. You?re really screwed, man.
Sam began to drool uncontrollably. The whites of Timothy?s eyes had turned red; his pupils were black with red dots streaked wildly. His hair, face, and body was on fire - the flames burned wildly every this way and that. But now Timothy was changing ? physically. His body was getting less and less manly. The hair on his head seemed to grow longer and longer; his legs went smooth. For a moment the grotesque blood faded miserably away. The utter misery of physical deformation became little more than a forgotten rumour. Tits began to rise on Timothy?s chest. Something else rose on Sam.
Let go of me, dude. Somebody call am ambulance!
Suddenly the ground began to tremble, like an earthquake, only not. Surprisingly, Sam could only laugh as his feet collapsed under him. Timothy only stood silent. Then Sam?s laughing turned to hysterics as he turned in time to see the President in his final words, only this time it was the face of the devil. His face was wreathed in flame and his words trembled like thunder. ?Fellow Americans,? he proclaimed once more, ?hear me and hear me now! Today you have witnessed a revolution - one that shall never been seen again. Today, my dear, dear Americans - today you are all blessed. Behold, my friends! Osama Bin Laden, the friend of America ? the false prophet! Hear him as you have embraced me. Embrace him as you have Slim Shady; let the world know that we shall learn his teachings. Let us all remember his number, and mark it well.? A bright and sudden message flashed across the screen, far too fast and incoherent for it to be made out. It ended with a symbol and a number. The number was 666.
(what the hell is that thumping noise?)
Come on, get up! There?s a good boy, Sam!
The ground continued to grumble and moan; only now it was getting violent. Even the stern face of Timothy, his greatest friend, was growing worried. The drip-dripping of the blood had no effect on either of them. Suddenly there was a cry of dismay from somewhere in the room ? probably someone freaking off their trip. Just then the ground began to tremble, and it shook violently, until at last neither Timothy, Sam, nor anyone else in the room could stand. Some scrambled for cover. Some remained standing to face whatever this new wrath brought. But Sam ? Sam just collapsed.
The ground felt cold to the touch. It was almost half like cement, only it was much softer. And now it was getting hotter; so hot, in fact, that in a few minutes Sam felt he would burn up on the inside. He continued to giggle momentarily.
(shut up that damn music!)
Quick, this way Sam! The cops! Must?a been a tip-off!
Suddenly the ground cracked right open, tearing the dull room in two. It revealed a dark and endless pit, spanning longer than the mind could possibly imagine. It smelt of molten rock - that foul, putrid smell of rotten eggs. Sam could taste it on his tongue as he smelled it with horror.
Just as the trembling stopped, out from the newly opened crack, a fire-ball of immense size burst brilliantly ? a mixture of dazzling fire-works and chaos. It burnt both Timothy and Sam (and probably everyone else); and yet, he noticed, it only managed to cook their now-exposed blood. He trembled as something else formed - probably a shadow, as best it could be described - and flew up in the air with a horrid shriek of mockery and laughter.
Damn earthquakes, dude. Always gotta happen at the parties, I swear.
Whether it was a shriek or a dying moan, Sam couldn?t be quite sure. But just then the shadow appeared as something else - not entirely describable - that made an abhorred noise: it was a demon. Not a red, smiling demon with a pitch-fork and two horns on its head - no. It was far more terrifying and loathsome; it smiled in mockery as it began to round up teenagers, and stab them with vile ferociousness. A few times Sam thought It was coming for him; but it never did.
Sam noticed the demon was riding on a wave of flame, like surf-boarders ride a wave of water, only the demon was not using a board of any kind. It was almost as if it was controlling the fire, as though it were under its command.
Death is Pain
S**t, that was close. Dude ? dude, are you alright? Oh my God -
Sam had the sudden feeling he was wedged between two walls. They were cold and smooth, probably made of some type of brick.
(dude, I?m serious, shut that thumping music up!)
He looked above his head in an attempt to find something of escape. But he found none. Timothy was gone, so were the television and the room. Now, indeed, he was stuck between two endless walls. There seemed to be no ground and no sky, and certainly no escape. Sam felt tired. I need sleep, he though. Yes, sleep is good. Maybe if I just -
Oh my God. Sam, are you okay? Sam ? Sam? SAM! Sam, don?t be stupid. This isn?t time for games. Say something, Sam. This isn?t funny -
Everything turned dark. The music inside his head continued to thump. Although he didn?t know it, the music would never stop. But now he noticed that the music was louder, as though it were growing intensely. It went from a soft, melodious (if not annoying) dum-dum-dum to a much more vexing thump-thump - THUMP - BOOM - BOOM!
(please help me. Please turn off the music. Please God, oh please!)
Suddenly Sam was aware that he was dying. He knew this because of two reasons: his breathing had stopped - indeed, now he thought it, he wasn?t ?breathing? at all. It was as though oxygen had always been a feigned man-derived invention, never meant to be. Nothing more than a material. And secondly, he was flying. Not ?Peter Pan? flying to Never-never land, because there were no clouds or rippling waves. Only darkness. For mile upon endless mile, there was only a black emptiness; the world had passed away and eternity was just beginning.
Welcome to the end, my son. The former world is past.
News report, from The Daily Post:
Yesterday in Paddington, Police stormed a drug-riddled night-rave party. Their intentions were to catch drug dealers. Unfortunately for them, they found much, much more.
Sam Simons, a Paddington resident, was found on the ground. He had overdosed on heroin. He was later officially declared dead when they discovered knife wounds to the head and chest; apparently these were caused by a friend, Timothy, who had ?been scared of Sam?s actions caused by drugs?. Police have yet to confirm these reports?.
?Who said you could
ban Marijuana,
White boy??
- God
