The Ecstasy is Weak Part VI Fear and Loathing at Spring Scream

This is a story submitted by Taika Alyosha. I personally don’t know this person and he hasn’t responded to any follow up emails so I couldn’t ascertain if this story was fiction or non-fiction. Either way, it makes for an interesting read. Here is part 6 of the 6 that were submitted.

Part VI: Human Gum

At this point we entered the club, a very seedy four story behemoth of a club, where I immediately became separated from Georgie and Shamus. Shortly thereafter, I found myself in front of a breakdancing contest, trying to make small talk with a stranger named Alex, who, on the tape, sounds very sober and annoyed.

T: What’s your name dude?

Alex: Alex.

T: This is a very strange world. I’m fucked…do you feel full?

A: Of what?

T: I feel full.

A: Yeah.

T: This…is…incredible. This is the fuckedupest kick I’ve been all night, I gotta say. You ever done K before?

A: What?

T: You ever done K before?

A: K?

Alex rolled his eyes, and left. With no companions, and nothing to occupy me, I decided to describe the breakdancing competition.

T: Thiiiis is fucking sick! Breakdancers here, nice. Guy just busted out…one guy just put out like twenty flipper on his hand. This guy now, flung around, thinks nobody likes ‘em, actin’ like the mangy ol’ doll, he’s gonna break…(in time with the music) he’s gonna break…he’s gonna break…now he’s breakin’…oh my god you should see this guy dance! His arms are elastic. His limbs are fucking moveable. He moves, like nothing I’ve ever seen. He is gum. Human gum. This guy is totally fucked. Now we appear to have a dance-off situation forming in the middle of the floor. There is one side on one side, and one side on the other side. They’re gonna be trying to out dance each other. This guy is breakin’ like madness tryin’ to fuckin’ win. There’s some sick dancin’ goin on in here man. New guy’s comin’ on the floor. Slowin’ down. This is B circle. It’s like that circle at school when you’re in grade 4 ‘cept for everybody is looking and you are dancing the phattest shit ever…right…while…the music is boppin. Bop. You’re fuckin’ diggin’ it. I don’t know how I can explain these dancers man. Its just, these guys are dancin’…dancin’. They’re dancin’ like sick maniacs man! They’re fuckin’ like…like a range of animals. I don’t know how they could get better. I’m gonna go and ask the fuckin’…judge or something…or maybe cheer for the winner, I’m not sure.

Then, the competition abruptly stopped. I had become so absorbed in the show that I’d become completely unaware of my surroundings, which now came flooding back into my consciousness.

T: I suddenly find myself in a room full of Asians who don’t speak English with no friends. But…it don’t sound too bad to me.

That was the last recording of the night, and it was at the peak of our delirium.

Upon finishing the recording I thought that I had used up another tape with all of my talking, so I promptly sat down crosslegged on the floor (right where I had been standing) and turned the tape recorder over and over in my hands for about 40 minutes trying to figure out how to change the tape. I never did figure out how.

Meanwhile, Shamus was also alone in a different part of the club. He told me that he found himself standing at a balcony, watching all of the dancers below, when he suddenly started vomiting. As he explained it, “I didn’t feel any gag reflex. It didn’t feel bad. I was just kind of watching myself puke off the balcony. It was really weird. Then Georgie came and dragged me away.”

Shamus was sure it was Georgie that pulled him away from the balcony, but Georgie later told us that it wasn’t him. After we became separated in the club he didn’t see us for the rest of the night.

Part VII: Epilogue

Unable to change the tape in the recorder, and suddenly realizing that sitting on the floor in the middle of a crowded club may not be appropriate behavior, I stood up and set off in search of the exit. I found Shamus on the first floor, right next to the door. It was perfect, not only because we were both totally ready to leave, but also because Shamus’ girlfriend, TJ, who had been trying unsuccessfully to sell t-shirts on the street, had just sent me a message that she was finished work and wanted to meet us. We called TJ and arranged to meet her and her friend, Crystal, on the street.

We were all feeling great when we met on the street; TJ and Crystal because they were finally finished work, and Shamus and I because we were finally coming down from the dizzying mental heights that we achieved in the club. We had one pill of E left, and gave it to the girls to split, and walked down to the beach, the same beach where I’d spent the afternoon, where there was a free all-night dance party.

The E that we gave the girls was great, as was the last pill that Shamus and I shared and, at the beach, we decided we wanted to get away from the party and relax. So we walked down to the North end and of the beach and laid in the sand under the lava rock cliffs. As we lay there couples regularly walked past off into the maze of giant lava rocks protruding from the sand, or behind us into the bushes.

I lay my head on Cystal’s lap and, starting up the stars, time expanded into one great soft organism floating around us, and gently binding us. Caressed by the sand I, at some point, rolled over and started kissing Crystal. After an indeterminate (but seemingly eternal) amount of time rolling in the sand beside the black ocean, we left.

When we walked from the beach back to my motorcycle I had almost nothing left. All the drugs: gone. My shoes: gone. My shirt, the cooler, the Swedes, Shamus and Georgie: all gone. Shirtless, shoeless, and euphoric I drove us slowly through the quiet town and out the other end to the field where my friends and I had camped. We entered the warm privacy of my tent where we lay gently together as the sun rose over the jagged tropical mountain behind the field in which we lay, sweetly, exhaustedly, tenderly and perfectly.

About the Author

I am a cultural geographer by nature, and now a photographer, videographer, musician, webmaster and father.

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