Butterfly Bed Ridden

If retribution is hitting back at me through muscle aches, blood laced phlegm and swollen tonsils, it’s going a great job in keeping me down. I was out for the count, laid to rest on my back with a tempestuous desire to party and a feet equally willing to taste rhythm and yet only one impediment lay before me and a night of promised debauchery; Paralysis.

Perhaps.. the consequences of my actions have finally caught up with me. No, there is nothing sexual in my topic and the only thing that rode me all week end was a plague called, 'Alcohol-less'.

It came swift and without prior warning, much like pregnancy and alopecia. Then a sharp pain that quickly radiated down from the left neck to the lower back. I fell straight to the bed, panting and winching in pain as my mum spared me a glance from her Word Racer.

Mum: “Why? Not going out ah?”

I glanced to the general vicinity on my right, nothing within reach to throw at her. I continued winching in pain. I’ve never felt worse, not even tattooing breached a realm anywhere remotely close to this.

I couldn’t move, neither could I feel anything to my left. Is this a stoke?

Me: “I’M IN FUCKING ALOT OF PAIN!!!”

I inched myself closer to the pillow, hoping to prop it against my back, deep panting and cursing along the way. The only non-expletives to come out of me seemed to be my isochronal grunts and pants.

Me: “fucking shit *pant* *grunt* chee bye *pant* *grunt*!!!”

In-between I told her to go get me morphine. She thought I was kidding.

Me: “Get…. me pain-killers at least.. or a knife…”

She finally came back with pain-killers from my last medication for my ‘fractured’ ankle.

She: “Come, sit up and take medicine..”
Me: “Sit up!? Do I look like I’m taking a fitness test?! I can’t even move my head.. help me up..”

Then I lay there, hoping for a miracle drug. I glanced at the time. 11.30pm.. I can still make it to Zouk.

11.40pm: My mum comes in again and nags about finding a girlfriend again and something about having someone to look after me. I ignore her and contemplate biting my tongue.

11.42pm: She starts on the girlfriend nag again..

Mum: “I think it’s high time already. Stop fooling around and find a nice girl..”

I lost her after the word ‘nice’. It's subjective. I think girls with tattoos and thongs are nice but my mum yells horrible words like, 'blasphemous whore' and 'wanton harlot'.

11.45pm: I make my first attempt out of bed, which like the future of local soccer, ends in dismay failure. As soon as I attempt to arch my body, that now familiar pain goes right back at injecting me with some of the most vile sensations.

11.47pm: I contemplate peeing in bed.

12.12am: Did I pass out from the pain? The last thing I remembered were murals and Greek bath houses.

Mum: “You were snoring…”

So I'm wrong, I fell asleep. I continue to believe it was pain induced.

12.15am: I finally make my way to the bathroom. The pain still incessantly impaling my back and my arm too weak to lift the tap. Zouk now remains the distant Utopia the cradled Promised Land which is fast fleetingly becoming an embellished mirage.

And as I laid there, kept half awake by the rhythmic bouts pain, I started to reflect. Perhaps this malaise was going to do me good after all. One thing I realized while lying there was the irony I’ve circled my life with.

Despite how much I hate loneliness, the fear of having anyone falling in love with me is perpetually daunting. And so the story goes, keeping my world guarded with emotionless games, falling in love with gorgeous Prada prints and hitting the sack with Tommy Page crooning over the airwaves..

Everyone needs a shoulder to cry on… la la la la.. friend to depend on..

What a faggot. I make a secret wish for a stripping teletubbie and a transsexual midget riding it. Anything beats lying in bed on a Saturday night.

Mum: “Are you looking hard for one? What about Fire-Engine?”

Like how I tag people to calendar months, Mum associates them to the cars they drive.

Me: “Mummy, my back is killing me… girlfriends can wait. I might not last the night..”