Drop #97: The Good Years

I want to briefly share the life I lived between 1994 and 2000 – I had a girlfriend who left me half way through 94′. I was alone and depressed and lost my job. I spent most of 95′ and 96′ in a dirty apartment in the dark feeling sorry for myself. In 97′ I got a job stripping paint off Russian cabaret dolls using a stiff metal bristle brush and turpentine, from 2 to 9pm, for $4.75 a hour. I drank heavily and lost contact with my family after an incident with my brother’s son which left him sterile and mute. I got sued by my old job after the fact for having defamed a large, chunky woman the day I left, when in a foul mood. Lewd conduct was slapped on. I broke my leg falling down the stairs one night in late 98′ while drunk and on downers coming back from a whore in a dodgy building. I had no medical and was homebound for three months. It didn’t heal right and I had bedsores, bone spurs and scabies. I also had an unidentified venereal disease from the one whore I had pleasured. Let’s just say there was some leaking and swelling–it was entirely unpleasant.

Early 2000 they kicked me out of my flat and I was homeless for a stretch. I lived in the 98′ Corolla I hadn’t paid off, ate in soup kitchens and started smoking crack. I lost some of my teeth. I got arrested and spent a year in and out of jails and half way houses. I got beat up a few times, stabbed in the gall bladder, had some ribs broken and lost sight in one eye. They called me ‘gimp’ on the street because of the gammy leg that hadn’t healed. My father died soon after but he left me nothing in his will except for regret and insecurity. My landlord was after me for three months of unpaid rent till he died of a coke induced aneurysm; the rat in the kitchen found a partner and bred in my pantry, eating all my Fruit Loops; I couldn’t afford having my teeth, knees or lymph nodes looked at; and I was sued for sexual harassment after a horse faced cripple fell into my crotch in the subway.

That was my life during those years and you know what? Those were the best years of my life. But I want to make it perfectly clear that I’m not saying that because I learnt from them, came through the hardship having with it, the pleasure of evolution, or learned something from those days – I’m not saying that because those years were necessary for my growth and so, were worth it despite the hardship – no! Those were horrible fucking years I wouldn’t wish on anyone, but sadly, even though I got nothing good from them, it was a better stretch than any other I have had to endure in my 46 odd years. They were god awful misery.

Yet, those nasty, fetid, mother fucking shit cunt years were some of the best I have ever had.

God speed, ya bastard! Have a glorious fucking day! …….

(And yes, I am drunk)

By E.M. Vireo


About EM Vireo
flooding the world with fiction

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