He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man

For too long, I’d led a life many would consider normal. Thanks to my parents, I’d knuckled down and graduated from university with a first in Economics. Which secured me a job in a large investment bank in the city. Tick tock, life went like clockwork.

I know what you’re thinking. Dull.

You’re right it was.

But it paid the bills, right?

Let’s face it, I’m not even convinced that’s a good excuse. As my fiancé heads to her own pointless job, I’m looking at my reflection, wondering what went wrong. My fiancé was on my case to propose and set a date.

I was going through the motions.

Work was fine, my fiancé was fine, everything was fine. Fine was fine.

Tick…tock, life went like clock…work. Though I’ve lived cleanly, I have my indulgences. Always see it as a controlled way of letting loose. Every few months, on a Friday afternoon, I'd head to a trashy bar, get hammered, do lots of coke, have fun with some free-minded ladies for a couple of days and get it out of my system. It’s not enough, though.

On Monday, I'd return to normalcy. As great as my plan was in principle, it was terrible in practice. My indulgences spiked my cravings rather than calming them, and cracks in my façade were showing. Tick.

One annoyance away from snapping. Tick. Great. My boss wants to see me. I know it’s about my attitude towards a client. Tick-tock.

In my defence, the guy’s an asshat with more money than sense. “I’m the client. You don’t tell me what to do,” the cliff notes of his complaints. All Balenciaga shoes and Tom Ford suits.

I tuned out my boss’s moronic mumblings on client respect— we both knew I didn’t care.

Walking to my own office, something snapped, and a new sensation came over me. I didn’t care. About. Anything. My fiancé, bless her, was hinting at a new house and a destination wedding. The cuckoo in my head sounds, loudly and proudly.

Closing the door, I laughed at the pointlessness of it all. Then driven by instinct, I jumped onto my chair and grabbed my 42-inch computer monitor. With a wicked smile, I smashed it into the expensive, oak-framed glass desk I’d wasted too many years of my life behind.

For a life that was never mine.

My fiancé would be disappointed.

Oh well.

Our “wonderful relationship” was built on a foundation of lies and compromises. This was the most honest I’d been. Ever.

It shattered with a delightful crash, as the wooden legs thudded down accompanied by the piercing crackles and crunches of the glass.

My mind was clearer than it’d ever been.

With reddening knuckles, and glass shards underfoot, I laughed and turned to the Monet on the wall, giving it a mocking glance before frisbee-throwing it at the windows overlooking the city. Sweat pooled around my collar from my forehead as the adrenaline coursed through my body.

Waste of money. I never liked Monet. The sloppy Frenchman was a piss-poor artist. Yes, I said it.

In my delightful haze, two bumbling security officers entered. I grabbed the walkie talkie of one and cracked it into their foreheads, before running to the lifts.

From the ground floor, I headed into the fresh chill of the evening and howled at the burnt sunset as I ripped my shirt. My olfactory senses were working better than ever – I could smell everything. From rubbish in the bins to rubbish in the gutters, cheap deodorant and expensive perfume of passersby.

I headed to my favourite bar, leaving a scathing message to my fiancé enroute. I threw back shot after shot until the bar’s dim lights blurred around me, then grabbed the first line I saw, snorting it like it might be my last before dropping two cheap acid tabs.

In all the madness, I heard the tick tock of the clock behind the bar and smashed it, looking at one of the patrons minding his own business, a part of me recognised—even pitied him. Maybe he was content – would I ever be content?

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: This is for JBaz Twisted Unofficial Challenge, which you can find out more below by following the link. I used the famous quote by Dr. Samuel Johnson. I took a very literal interpretation of it, because I wanted to have some fun. It was famously quoted in Fear and Loathing in Last Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson and in arguably one of the best Avenged Sevenfold songs, Bat Country.

Here is a link about the quote:

Link to the Avenged Sevenfold song: