Author has written 1 story for Fight Club.
Have you ever been so high you mistook your own arm for a leg of salami? Neither have I - and neither had Sam until a moment ago.
But Sam’s laughing now, clutching his decapitated wrist like a hose, painting dad’s garage walls a blossoming red. “Simply beautiful” I calmly observe as Sam’s unorthodox style of art splatters across my face.
I guess its true: Love really can make a boy do crazy things. It made Sam kill our Dad. It made me kill our Mum. Heck, it made Sam think his arm was salami.
But where did it all begin?
It’s a drug called Oblorom and after eleven trials and prototypes Sam and I have finally perfected our recipe.
It’s not hard to make. In fact, if one were so inclined one could produce the solution from nothing alone but the ingredients among Dad’s weed killers and pesticides.
3 ounces sodium nitrate
1 part tartar emetic/white vitriol
One part low self esteem
And 2 cups Unrequited Love
You will need:
Sad? Depressed? Tired of Dad raping Sam whilst Mum sits on the sidelines? Don’t sweat it. Oblorom makes you high and Oblorom makes you happy. It gives you what you want and when you want it. But most importantly, Oblorom makes you forget.
I mix the sacred solution with my finger whilst Sam pours himself a glass.
“This is it,” I say beaming, “brothers till’ the end!” We clink cups, telepathically say goodbye to mum and dad before slowly swigging the golden nectar elixir.
I smile. I am one with everything.
Before long Sam is pulling out a kitchen knife and moaning about his sudden cravings for a salami sandwich, eventually finding his own arm with delight, “Oh look! Salami!”
I laugh. I too suddenly have cravings, an insatiable hunger for a banana. “What are the chances?!” I say. “Who kindly left this banana between my legs?”