My fight with Alcoholic Demons.

Date: Brandon's log, Thursday November 6th 2008.

This day was like every other for me, I woke up at 6:00 ( not everday for me) just this occasion to drive with a friend to the VA hospital in Chicago and hopefully board a plan for Los Angeles to finish my destiny.

What was average for this day was the fifth and a half of Vodka that had been fermenting in my stomach from the night before. I woke up and drank a glass of Jagermeister unknown to my friend, (Sorry). But I was powerless in waking up intoxicated.

Everyday consisted of my daily dose of death, which was poisoning like the mercury that killed the first Emperor of China. I'm no Emperor, but I am a Pharaoh. This tonic was slowly decaying my internal organs, but how could I tell, I was laughing and having fun when it was doing this. The demon in the bottle was also laughing in my delusion that something as corrosive as Vodka was consumed like water for me.

Joking I use to say I'll stock my house with a Vodka despenser like the soda dispensers at fast food resturaunts. I would also make the off the wall comments that I am known for about, "Laying in bed with a Vodka I.V in my arm. The demon inside wore glasses and scribbled all my stupid comments down so on my journey to hell, he could recant them to me. 'Ignorant garbage pile of festering feces, there's a piece of me in everyone of your bottles and that will make a whole one of me to rip your flesh apart,' he would probably say while singing the old 1950's pencil neck tune, "Mr. Demon. Dream me a Dream, how about a nightmare you have never seen?"

While I was building up this full bodied demon so subtly, I keep on worrying about my drink everyday that I just had to have or a plane would fall on the world sinking it to the bottom of space.

Never would I disavow the weekend warriors relaxing their weekly stress by drinking, but I was no weekend warrior, I was a seven day week warrior. And being a warrior I thought I had the armor on of this warrior.

Here is the account of the signs that were presented to me. I believe everyone sees the signs before the angel of death plunges a spear into you and removes your soul at spearpoint. He's doesn't use guns. He's old fashioned. No one takes notice because if you do, you can prevent your demise. Then we're sorry blind dead people that can see them then sitting at the gates of judgement we the roll call is read off to use scratching our disembodied heads saying, "Ah. Eureka! Why didn't I notice that? It it so painfully obvious now."
Then Peter tells us to, "Shut our sewer lids. Hindsight is 20-20. You wouldn't be up here having me tell your dumb ass that if you opened your eyes a bit."

Mine is 20/400 due to my bad vision, "thanks for the bad vision God," I could finally tell him. That's why I ate the poodle thinking it was salmon that day. I couldn't tell the difference.

SIGN ONE:
We headed down the highway that I have wrote twice about before that tried to claim my life. I saw the signs then too. There was an Illinois Corrections van driving along side us. I usually cast that for nothing despite serving a share of my life with them. An ambulance was in front of the van. I pointed out my bad memories of the IDOC to my friend and said, "Probably taking an inmate to court in Cook County."

Then she pointed out to me that there is no inmate in the van, that the van is following the ambulance. I laughed this off thinking he was probably a victim of Bubba when he dropped the soap in the shower. The joke was about to be on me with a healthy dose of syrup poured on my dumb joke.

SIGN TWO:
It was starting to wear off of waking up drunk by the time we got to the hospital, and I was plastered like a house in Paris when I woke up. Now before you assume that in a hospital your going run into some near dead things, that ain't it Sherlock, let me tell the story.
I was in the bad foot section because of people keeping the same socks on for yesrs and the socks having to be surgically removed. Talk about the smell of Fritos Lays going on. Kidding about that part, it was for those afflicted in their feet.

While there I was nodding off into sleep like a Heroin addict with an ounce of dope. I rose my eyes to see a dying man being wheeled into the foot section, this was not the section that was to be for that. I dozed off again and the second time I awoke with some old lady's hand molesting my package, the man was back again. Joking also about the old molester with dentures. She wan't feeling she was....still a joke. I still didn't perceive the sign. Then I dozed off agan making America proud of this immigrant by showing up to a Veteran's Hospital drunk. When I arose the local news was on recalling the deaths and murders the previousely happened the night before in Chicago. Still didn't get, but my body had started to take a turn for the worse. At first it was depression setting in, then I couldn't seem to think start for nothing, I couldn't collect my marbles from the Chinese Checkers of life. In other words, I felt like utter shit.

SIGN THREE:
While my mind was the first to collapse, I still worked as a perfectly good zombie. I walked outside to retrieve the car from Valet parking. While I was out there, a soldier was on his cellphone giving his serial number there. He mentioned a digit that I paid no attention to, but the next three even the Pope would perk his hat up too, he said, "666." I spun around because of my associations with that number off and on throughout my life. At that moment the hounds of hell were snarling and I was thinking, "How cool that I heard someone in the same spot with a serial number of *666." Forrest Gump could have told me the 'stupid is as stupid does,' thing and I wouldn't have got it.

SIGN FOUR:
By this time I was feeling like a piece of the pavement on the highway being thrashed. We went to eat at White Castle, King of the slider burgers. With the grease they have, they slide right off the bun. We were inside going to have a good meal, but the neighborhood was so bad, there was no dining room, just bullet proof glass protecting the master cookers of the sliders. We tried to order but an ambulance was driving by and it echoed so loud through the drive-thru intercom that we couldn't order until it passed.
At this time, Satan was rubbing his hands together knowing that he would finally get to roast my ass in some lava baths. Real lava in hell folks, not heated rocks at a spa.

SIGN FIVE:
While heading down Damon Avenue, Demon Avenue, we passed by a body being covered by a white sheet. Dead. The body could have rose up one last time to flick me off and I still wasn't getting it.

By now, my body was starting to shut down. Hot cold flashes and a fever was raging in my body. It was the elevator to hell getting close to me to carry me to torment. I was fighting the pain that was also the worse depression I had ever felt. I have such a bright career ahead me and I thought my world was ending. I was keeping my pain from my friend, but she knew silence was not a trait of mine, but I didn't want to spoil her Chicago trip as one of my biggest supporters to send me on the plane to LA. She'd probably jump up and down not because I'm going to see my future, but because this annoying arrogant narcacisstic bastard was leaving.
If the pain kept up, I 'd be the hardest working man in no business.

SIGN SIX:
The torment had begun five hours earlier, it was now three O' clock. I couldn't no longer even act like I could walk into her next appointment. I thought I could sleep it off. She went to another hospital. I stayed in the car. Sleep was out of the question, I was burning up. Everytime I dozed off, I felt that I was never going to wake up, so I woke myself up. At least five ambulances passed going to the hospital and I was terrified that each one was going to crash into the car and kill me. Bam! I realized now the first five signs, or at least three of them. Terror washed over me, for some reason I just knew I was not going to live through the evening. I was crushed in fear. I didn't know what to do now.

We she came back, I admitted that I was feeling horrible. Now it was raining. I decided we needed to go see my brother. On the way there on the highway, I was clenching the seat expecting us to hydroplane into any semi in the way. For some reason I just knew I was going to buy the big lava bath in the pit. I was hiding my fears, but desperately wanted her to get off the highway to a street we didn't have to go 55mph on, then I would have a chance.
She opted to get me a forty ounce thinking I was go through alcohol withdrawal. We stopped in a suburb and got a forty. I drank it in the car while she patiently watched me unknowingly destroy myself. My stomach was being stabbed by the spears of the reaper now. I saw myself in a mirror, and I looked like nothing else but pure death. My stomach was all pain. My face was turning red and pale white at the same time and I was shaking through my whole body.
By nine, I was about to tell her, I have to lay down. Finally we got a motel that looked like it was a hangout for prostitutes and pimps. Being stabbed would have been better then the physical and mental anguish I was going through. It was the second worse feeling I ever felt, first was having the left side of my face crushed in by a baseball bat.

Inside the hotel room I was now hallucinating without LSD. Shadows begin to dart out of the corner of my eyes. I was cold, sweating, then hot all at the same time. There was a 12 pack of beer, for some reason I thought I could ask my alleged friend that was really a devil to mask my pain one more time. I drank two beers and laid down shaking. Then the last sign came and it wasn't natural.

SIGN SEVEN:
I was seeing everyone in my life that died. I saw in this dream my own brother and friends laughing at me, toasting to my death. Then in my ears plain as the computer you sit in front of reading these words, "Whispers from the dead are all the living can hear." I froze in fear. Why? Because it wasn't a whisper but a plain voice that told me this. So, if it wasn't a whisper, then I wasn't alive anymore. I rose up and what do you know, I drank another beer and smoked a cigaretter pondering this revelation.

The first puff of that cigarette and I ran to the bathroom to throw up. I threw up three times. I had barely eaten in three days, so the food was the first. The second was blood and pieces of my stomach. The third was bright red blood that splashed all over the toilet. I had literally puked my guts up.

I was rushed to the hospital, or because of my friends driving driven cautiously due to the cops being heavy. I'll spare the end other then that was the greatest day of my life. How could it be? Because I won't die. I am free of the demon by expelling him out like the Excorist.
Doc told me after I was stabilized, "If drink another drink of hard liquor it could be my last." I removed my stomach lining. The alcohol will run into my organs. the laughter is done, the sun is shining once again when the darkness of alcohol has been removed from my life.
Cristie, thank you for realizing death was at the door. Now the world can now possibly view my works that you have had so much faith in.