CHOOSE YOUR OWN MINDFUCK: A Night in Eighth Block Tower (A57)
Bedlam Bible fans! Explore the Eighth Block Tower! Choose your fate! New posts every Tuesday and Friday. September '23 through December '23. Don't succumb to the huummmmmmmmm...
You’ve decided to ‘see something cool’…
“Sure. Why not?” you say.
Her eyes flash like a solar flare. “Really? You’ll do it?”
“Do what? I thought you were going to show me something.”
“Well, yeah, but only if you’re really interested,” she says. “So, you’re really interested?”
“Yes! I’m really interested! What more do I have to say?” you shout.
“Okay, okay,” she says, letting loose of her bags. “You got the money?”
“What the hell? What do you mean money?! You said you were going to show me something!”
“I’m only going to show you if you have the money,” she says, folding her arms over her chest.
“I’m not giving you any money to show me something. Are you insane?”
“Are you insane?!” she shouts.
The two of you stare at each other for several seconds in total silence.
“Will you just tell me what the hell is going on?” you finally say.
“You really don’t know who I am?” she asks.
“Why would I lie about that?”
“Bee? Jubelicide? None of that rings a bell?” she asks.
“Bee, what the fuck is going on?”
“Jesus. Do you have fifty bucks?”
“Fifty bucks? Yeah, I’ve got fifty bucks. What’s it to you?”
“Show me.”
“Fuck off.”
“Show me or you aren’t seeing it.”
“Seeing what?”
“Your ticket out of here.”
“You’re gonna charge me fifty bucks to leave the building?”
“No, I’m going to charge you fifty bucks for your grand exit.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No, you said I was going to charge you to leave the building. You’re not leaving the building. Not technically.”
“Just exiting?” you ask.
“Well, yeah… but like, the best fucking exit there is.”
“. . .”
“What?” she asks.
“I’m leaving, and I’m not giving you a dime.”
“Will you just shut the fuck up a second. Listen to me… I’m not charging you for what I’m about to show you. I just need to know if you have the cash or not. Serious inquiries only.”
“Why does it matter if I have the cash if it doesn’t cost anything?”
“It does cost something. Fifty bucks. Do you have it?”
You pause for a moment to rub your temples. “Bee… this is the most frustrating conversation I’ve ever had. I’m getting a migraine. Level with me. What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Show me you have the fifty,” she says.
You sigh, then reach into your back pocket to retrieve your wallet. “Fine. Here.” You open your wallet and show her the fifty. She nods.
“Was that so hard?”
“Yes! It was!”
She ignores you and digs into her pocket, removing a small black plastic tube, similar to the cases used to protect 35 mm film. She shakes it in front of your face and it rattles like a jar full of teeth.
“This is Jubelicide,” she says, then pops the top and removes a tiny pill from the tube. She holds it up so you can see it clearly. It’s triangular and pink with a dark blue dot resting at its center, coincidentally but undeniably resembling the mighty Eye of Providence.
“Actually,” she continues. “I used to call it Suicide Euphoria, but the news networks around here have coined their own name for it, and it sort of stuck. Jubilecide, you know, like suicide celebration. It’s sort of a clumsy name, but I like it.”
“So, what? Is this like… a happy way to die?” you ask.
“Essentially… yes. See, there are certain acids that form within insect cadavers after fumigation, and—” She cuts herself short and laughs nervously. “Sorry, I won’t bore you with the details.”
“No, go on… you’ve got my attention now,” you say.
But she doesn’t go on. Instead, she stands there a moment, quietly chewing on her bottom lip.
“How about I just show you?”
— To go with Bee, click here.
— To change your mind and leave, click here. (coming soon)