Dan Dellechiaie

E.N.D

Excerpt

Part Three: Retreat

“‘The psychedelic journey may not give you what you want,’ as more than one guide memorably warned me, ‘but it will give you what you need.’” 

—Michael Pollan, How to Change Your Mind 

Fuck you, Craig, I’ll stand when I want to. You’re a fucking granola paddleboard retreat instructor. You shouldn’t be telling me shit beyond which life jacket isn’t going to snap in the middle of the ocean. These other people look like real fucking wrecks. Do I look like that? No. I’m still hot. That one guy won’t stop laughing—“HEEEE HEEEE HEEEE”—at himself. SHUT UP! He’s got the same confidence as an intern. Fuck all these people! Fuck that speech about no one being better than anyone else and all of us being on our own journey. Fuck that! I spent a week sweating my ass off to do this psychedelic paddleboard powwow bullshit. I can’t believe I got sent to this shit. Half of these losers look like they went on this retreat to get flexible enough to lick their own assholes. Like the guy in the saggy bathing suit: you have nice hair and a jawline and shit, you don’t need any confidence. Just look in the water and if you can’t see anything lean closer and stay there until a shark comes by and bites your beautiful fucking head off. No confidence, give me a break! That’s what Heil to the Chief Financial Officer Ify said this thing was going to be: a break. How is this a break? They just don’t want to fire me because they think I’ll flip on them, which I should. Fuck Summa Eros! I should’ve recorded what that annoying dilf in marketing said about buying me a hotel minibar to see what was under my dress, fucking dick. They’re all assholes. That’s what Mom always said: Everyone’s an asshole and you gotta get used to the smell but stay far away enough not to get pink eye. Or some shit like that. And she’s the one who stuck close to Dad, that wreck. Ugh. Fuck this. I’d remember exactly what Mom said if I had a cup of coffee—or my meds or vodka. One week of this shit is killing me. And one week of abstinence only got me five of Craig’s shitty gray dirt-smelling capsules. “It’ll free your mind from your body as you float.” Yeah, float face fucking down, Craig! God, when is this stupid shit supposed to kick in? I know more about this shit than the uptight pricks running this hellhole. I’ve been taking shit harder than this since I was fifteen, you nerds! I may not have taken shrooms because I’m not a dropout, but I know my shit! Ify said they really care for you here but who cares about their employees if they send them to this shit for working too hard! Ify was probably just mad that I was doing more work than him for less pay and a shitty title: Rachel Carter, Motherfucking Head of Motherfucking Public Outreach. Of course I was working harder than those cogs. They don’t even know the difference between a fucking press release and a fucking press conference! Idiots. All of them. I worked eighteen hours a day, cleaning up all their messes, and they—they don’t do shit! They go to all these lunches at like 3:00 p.m.—who the fuck eats that late! And they don’t even come back! And all I do is sit there and log all this shit for them and actually arrange everything and make sure to over-tip the waiter when the head of that rocket company with the dumb fucking name slipped him a condom with her phone number on it! She didn’t even realize that could have ended up in the Journal if I didn’t fix that shit. Bitch. And that dumb technician who thought it was a genius idea to ask all the female employees to record their voices for that fake sex robot! God damnit! Venus 1.0 was a front and he had to go and draw attention to it to make the ruse seem “authentic.” Moron. “Be generous, honey. It’ll get you farther than anger.” Mom, being humble is humbug bullshit! I’m so good at PR but I hate it. It’s just dealing with douchebags who never learned how to shut the fuck up for once. I keep all of my shit on the inside and these imbeciles just smear their shit everywhere! Jesus fuck! If I was there instead of that dumbass Interim Limp Dick of Public Outreach Bob, I’d save Summa Eros’s ass. I wouldn’t plan on telling the Feds about everything! In one week he’s gonna tank Summa Eros and that rocket company with the annoying CEO, who cuts his crappy coke with shittier speed. “Transparency allows us to be completely efficient.” That’s what cheap strippers say, Bob! Not PR whiz kids! Fuck! I still can’t believe we were robbed by fucking maids. They better find that gun or Summa Eros is gonna fold and all the board members are gonna be hung by their thousand-dollar Italian shoelaces—Auto Eros Asphyxiation. Shit! “You don’t trust people enough, honey.” Mom, go back to being the widowed parent who I wrote application essays about. I don’t need your soap opera clichés right now. No wonder Dad offed himself…I don’t mean that, Mom…I just—Wait. Whoa. What’s going…on? Why can I hear you like you’re right there in the waves? Why can I hear everyone? What? “I’m not going to tell you the side effects because you will manifest them during an obstacle.” Thanks, Craig, you Zen-koan-gobbling lawsuit waiting to happen. What’s next? Gum drop clouds and marmalade skies? Unicorn horns sprouting from my vagina? Stupid hippie shit. Wish I had some molly. That shit would help me find something, not this cowshit trash. And they sent me to this third eye concentration camp for taking a few bumps off my desk. Jesus fuck, you got Narcotics Obvious over here on every board and they’re busting me for some empty vodka bottles and fifty bucks of coke. Fuck! I need an energy drink when this shit’s over. They send me on this retreat to find myself and get closure when they’re about to get Feds tearing up every damn rug. Fucking hypocrites, losers, ASSHOLES! They need me, Rachel: The Unfucker of Everything, not Bob. Ugh my neck. Shit, I need painkillers. “Fifty Advil is the same as a Vicodin.”Hi Dad, fuck off! Ugh. Who gives a shit. Maybe I can stick my face in the water and catch a fish and eat that shit raw and gain some chi or some shit. Enlightened douches. Fuck my knees! Why would anyone want to ride on a fucking paddleboard? It’s a gondola with no booze, singing, or discreet fingering. And you gotta do it all yourself. Shiny water—Not gonna look in the water. No way. Fuck that mermaid I saw yesterday during that Drown Yourself Half to Death to Find Buddha’s Shriveled Cock in Oblivion activity. Ten feet away. Had to sprint past that mom holding her son. I’m not gonna be the appetizer or main course. Bitch, I’m the dessert! “Babe, I know you want a son, but I want a daughter like you.” Like me, Dylan? Like me? Fuck off with that nonsense. Fuck off with that—WHAT WAS THAT?! WHY DID I—WAS THAT A SQUID?!—HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Breathe, Rachel. It’s nothing! Nothing! BREATHE! My sinuses are all fucked up. “Look at the Horizon When You are Stranded at Sea to Avoid Vomiting.” Thanks shitty nature video I watched in high school. Not gonna…ugh. The others are—Fuck! They left me. Assholes! These spiritual kooks have God, Jesus, and the Holy Shit helping them paddle. “The strength of God helps me stand!” What a sanctimonious asshole. I don’t have shit to help me. Never have. “You should really find some friends when you’re free from me.” Dylan, quit it. You were nice and all but couldn’t handle me. Even in death, you’re still an asshole. Fuck, I’m drifting. “Feeeeelllll freeeeee to be alooooonnnneee, you’lllll find otttttheeers in solituuuuude.”Fuck you Craig! Get the fuck out of my head! I don’t want to find anyone. Shit, I’m still drifting. Current…left oar, right…push. Double…shoulder feels like it’s been drawn and quartered but head feels…what was I thinking about just now? Nothing? OH SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FUCKING SKY RAT, SEAGULL SHITHEAD! AWK AWK AWK YOURSELF, DICK! Ugh. The clouds are actually kinda…nice. Hope that winged trash goblin doesn’t shit on me. “Babe, just mix one spoon of dish detergent with two cups of cool water.” Dylan, what are you doing in my head? I got rid of you with those green pills. “Be as strong as you always said I was.” You were a coward, Dylan! Killed yourself with a fucking safety razor. “Hehehehehe.” Dad, you liked that one? Glad to hear you’re still there. Is it because you and that coward dead boyfriend of mine decided to off yourselves in the same way? “I’m sorry for the mess.” Dylan, if you could listen to me instead of just reading your suicide note out loud in my head, you said I never listened to you. Seems like all you listened to is how my father killed himself! What was wrong with you two? I hope Hell exists. Fuck you both.

About the Author

Dan Dellechiaie is a writer from Mountainside, NJ. He holds a BS in journalism from Boston University. The following is an excerpt from his novel E.N.D. He is also working on two other novels: Oh Fuck You, William Blue and The Tamarind Island Park Communards.