4.11.09

No Silver Lining

It was definitely broken. I could tell that as reality returned, as I emerged from the long dark tunnel of unconsciousness , eyes squinted against sunlight... or perhaps in wince.
" You really did it this time."

A voice chuckled at me. I recognized it as my friend David. What a dick.

The events of the night slowly rolled back. They were of course clouded by beer... copious in quantity and capacious in quality. I recalled snippets in visions like those plastic goggles you have as a kid; the kind you look into and hit the button to rotate the film, switching between slides of animals and shit.

Last snippet I remember is looking down at a big blue blotch, dark in the corners, light blue where a ray of light pierced through the middle, adorned by a crowd of inebriated onlookers, piqued by a potential display of bravado or idiotic carnage... Jim's pool. Had to be. Even in my most delusional nightmares I'd recognize the gaudy lawn set his parents had given him... a throwback to the last huzzah of a breed that nearly became extinct in the 80s - hippies.

I had finally done it... for years I'd told Jim that I'd jump from the roof into that damn thing. He always called me a pussy. I told him he had to set me up on a date with his sister if I jumped into the pool. He shrugged and said "fine".

"Hey man... at least you're famous now." David informed me through a sly grin. He spun in the chair next to my bed and turned the monitor of my PC towards my prostrate body.

"Great...." escaped my lips in a sigh.

My immortalization went like this: I was focused through the camera, my hands skyward in the infamous Nixon. Mumbled amused voices, camera panning out to the pool. A few cries of "DO IT!" and "NO BALLS!" and "PUSSY!!!", a brief pause in sound... in video actually... some fucker mixed in a cut of R.Kelly's I Believe I Can Fly. I made to leap, but had too much liquid courage, and not enough dexterity in me. I pushed off... but should've run... maybe. My feet flailed as if pedalling an invisible bike... I fall short of the water by a foot and smash to the ground like flesh without a skeleton... Attempt to stand... vomit profusely, noticing the sound returning to what the camera had recorded, amplified wretching sounds as if I'm calling dinosaurs. Then I fall backwards onto a patch of cush grass that lines the pool.

The redemption... if it could be called that came when I stood up, my bare chest resembling a pizza, or some saucy italian dish, and walked inside, with David running after me. The credits rolled. "Starring Ryan as Superman", a cropped photo of my trashed midsection designating my role. "Sponsored by Dos Equis... Jose Cuervo..." "Guest Starring as Kryptonite, Gravity"

David glanced over... and I knew what he was thinking... Shit, I was thinking it too. "Don't even say it."

He started laughing, he'd say it anyway... who am I kidding? I would've too. "This is the same shit we regularly view on the net and laugh at until we're hoarse." His smile didn't move from his face, and one even started creeping across mine. "Plus side..." He displayed, scrolling the screen down "19604 views in the first 16 hours"... the dick.

I placed my estimated time of departure at... hmmm... 0300, with arrival at 0301... which made it 1900 or so now... the booze out of my system, my skull feeling much too small for my brain, and my ankle entirely too big to fit into any of my shoes... at least only one of these things was irregular for a Tuesday morning.

"Well at least I get to take Jim's sister out." I smirk, looking desperately for the silver lining to the looming cloud of medical bills and humiliation.

"Jim says its a no go bro." David stated, dropping his eyebrows and sucking air through his teeth.

"The fuck?!" I bark clenching fists and sitting up, immediately wishing I hadn't, as white hot pain played a game of hyperspeed Pong between my shattered foot and hungover brain.

"Dude... You didn't make it into the pool. He says the deal was for you to jump from the roof into the pool. Hell, he said if you'd fallen forwards instead, making it into the pool he'd've even paid for the night after seeing the angle of your foot on impact."

"Balls."

-Matthew Royall

No comments:

Post a Comment