by Tomorrow's Man
October 06, 2004
Day Four on the Enfeebler
Pants torn, wrists sounding like little counsins to cement mixers, arms so weak they couldn't lift a spirit, toes broken (four and counting), clots of hair missing from scalps...the idea was to go on the Enfeebler sober this time.
The horror. There are no words that can explain the horror.
But try these: A feeling in the stomach like you've just sucked a pint of pus out of someone's conjunctivitis-swollen eye.
Perhaps I should recommend not going on the Enfeebler...but I just can not.
It has got me.