The Most Pain I've Ever Experienced

It’s 6pm, freshly liberated from another day at my wage-cuck digital plantation in sunny California. Time to attempt surfing. I’m convinced God cursed LA with garbage waves as punishment for harboring all of these narcissistic pedophile producers and brain damaged “creators1”

I surf because it’s the only activity that forces my dopamine-fried peanut brain to stop scrolling Twitter long enough to remember I don’t actually want to kill myself. It’s a much needed break from my daily consumption of FBI crime statistics, dashcam footage of vehicular carnage, and reminders that I will never own a home because of the boomers or the Chinese or the Jews etc etc

I slip into my hog compressing wetsuit and scrub my board up and down with wax. The barely legal beachside teens are glancing at me, probably drooling at such a sexual sight. I value commitment unlike my father, and even though my relationship is on the verge of imploding, I leave them to enjoy their High Noons in peace.

I take a few steps into the water. Suddenly, I feel a slight sharp jab on my left foot right below my ankle. Did a crab just pinch me? Did I step on some glass carelessly tossed in the ocean by some subhuman _______2?

Then about 5 seconds later an intense burning sensation develops on my ankle, I involuntarily stumble forward and begin muttering naughty words to myself. The burns quickly evolve into what I imagine getting stabbed feels like, and I begin to make loud guttural autism grunts.

I pivot toward shore, but three steps later my leg gives out and now I’m crawling and straight up screaming due to the exponentially increasing pain. I’m really struggling, the water is only a few inches deep but behind me the waves thrust my massive surfboard into my gooch. I never expect to be hollering in pain while taking backshots, but I’m proud to report I don’t enjoy it.

I make it back to shore and glance at my foot which is gushing deep red blood all over the beach. I glance at the group of 19 year olds praying one of them is going to deus ex machina a menstrual pad to help contain the bleeding, but they are now revolted by my presence and packing up their picnic for a calmer spot. Fair enough. I continue my tardscreeches.

“FUCKING JESUS CHRIST GODDAMNIT FUCK WHAT THE FUUUUUCK AHHH AHH AHAHAAH JESUS FUUUUUUUUUU-”

“Hey man, can you watch your language? I’m at the beach with my kid!”

Behind me stands a stern, suburban dad glaring with his hands on his hips. His kid is a couple months out of the womb, he’s not conscious enough to walk, let alone develop PTSD from witnessing a bloody wigga’s crash out.

“LOOK AT MY FUCKING FOOT MAN IM FUCKING BLEEDING EVERYWHERE OHHH GODD AHHHHHHHHHH FUK OWWOWWOWW”

The Father glances at my foot and his face drops. “Oh shit.” He says, before scooping up his kid and running away, hopefully in the direction of a lifeguard tower. I can’t walk to one myself, hell I can barely hold back tears and slurs. The pain occasionally dies down just long enough to give me a flash of hope that it’s ending, before returning in full force.

“What are you doing?”

I open my eyes and see a freckled blonde standing over me, blowing a bubble of gum and staring at me like a zoo animal. I try to regain my composure and not holler in her face like I did to dad of the year, despite her pretty retarded question.

“Urghhhghhh just bleeding a lot I think.”

“Damn, you really are. That looks pretty bad. What happened to you?”

“Hnnngh mmm I don’t know I was in water, something got me, grrrrughhh maybe a crab or a jellyfish”

“That sucks. Want me to piss on it?”

For a brief moment the pain subsides and my eyebrows raise with intrigue… the beach really isn’t that crowded…

She sees my expression and realizes I might just call her bluff. “Just joking. I don’t have to go.”

As I bleed out and resist the primal urge to fully indulge my spaz out, she rambles about her life, her move from Montana, her singing aspirations, her roommate is becoming fatter and meaner. I’m barely asking questions, she’s essentially just podcasting over my shriveling corpse and I really appreciate the distraction.

Two lifeguards appear out of a truck that I don’t even notice pull up and ask me about what happened with dull SSRI’d glazed-over expressions. Idk fellas I took like ten steps in the water and now it feels like Satan is raping my foot with a flamethrower. My new blonde friend gives me a little wave then says Good Luck before strolling away. Her work here is done and she better not offer that golden shower to anyone else.

One lifeguard casually mentions that it was, “Probably a stingray. We’ve had like fifty people get stung by those today.”

Oh boy that’s quite a few stings, maybe just maybe you nonchalant fuckheads could’ve stopped twiddling each other’s sandy cocks in your cozy little lifeguard huts and PUT UP A WARNING SIGN AT THIS EXTREMELY POPULAR SURFING SPOT, YOU TAN SHIT-FOR-BRAINS BEACHTARDS.

“Hrrnrrrnnn mmmhm wow that’s a lot, can you please help me Uuuughh-uh” I moan pathetically.

Chadguard starts poking around my foot as my eyes bulge out of my skull.

“From what I can tell with this much blood, I think it nicked an artery. You’re gushing too much for us to extract the venom, there’s nothing we can do until we wrap it up first and wait for the bleeding to stop.”

Not the news I want to hear. He proceeds to mummify my foot up with bandage while I resume screamgrunting (it’s just the fellas now, without piss girl to impress I have no reason not to resume my tantrum)

The chadguards pick me up and toss me into the truck bed so they can drive me off the beach. People are taking pictures and videos of me from the pier. Enjoy the show I guess. It would’ve felt so cinematic if a black guy yelled Worldstar…

I’m still unintentionally screamgrunting through my clenched jaw and my beachbum “savior” riding in the truck bed with me is mostly ignoring my outbursts while scrolling, occasionally murmuring, “You’re fine.”

Upon arrival at the parking lot, I’m unloaded from the truck bed and into an ambulance, which I only agree to under the assumption they will give me drugs. WRONG, YOU BUFFOON, THIS IS NOTHING MORE THAN AN 1800$ TAXI. I ask if I can get out and take an uber instead and just get laughed at like usual. Fuck my stupid chungus life.

I am unloaded from the ambulance and wheeled into a hospital room. I need to avoid becoming permanently crippled at all costs because this just feels too humiliating. Mad respect to all the wheelie boys who endure this daily, everyone standing is literally and figuratively looking down on you and it sucks ass. I am sharing a room with an old Mexican woman for some reason, laying on twin beds next to each other like a dorm.

The doctor slices open my makeshift bandage, releasing another geyser of blood. “Sorry, man, gotta put a new one on. We’ll extract the venom once the bleeding stops.” AKA keep suffering ya stupid goy. My abuelita roommate is cackling whenever I moan and saying a bunch of untranslatable Mexican gibberish. Why am I here? I’m paying to get ragebaited while receiving no treatment or drugs.

I ask her to stop laughing at me but she either doesn’t understand or ignores this request. I continue waiting for the doctor to return while crafting elaborate deportation fantasies in my head. Can you just call ICE and say this lady doesn’t know English, maybe y’all should swing on by? Are they allowed in hospitals- oh, the doctor is back. He removes the bandage and submerges my foot in a box of warm water. The pain vanishes in ten seconds, like it was never there at all. No procedure needed, I guess the venom breaks down when exposed to a high temperature. I could’ve just done this at home and not financially destroyed myself, that’s cool.

Time to head out, some hospital minion is helping me limp out since my foot is still very sensitive to pressure. I debate flipping off my roomie on the way out but decide to take the high road for once in my life. I have no clue why she’s in there or what she’s gone through so I guess I’m glad I could be her personal jester, there’s no point in me being a whiny little bitch the whole time if someone isn’t there to clown me. I blow her a kiss instead and she cracks up, giggling out more Spanish gobblygook.

As I’m checking out at the front desk and making sure they have my right insurance I chuckle when I notice the inside of my new wallet I just bought a week ago.

Karma’s a bitch. The ray makes me bleed out and wanna kill myself for two hours, I accidentally bought his cousin’s harvested flesh, I think we can call it even.

My girlfriend picks me up and drives me home, which sounds nice in theory. The entire time she’s cooing, “You poor baaaaaby, are you okaaaaay?”, continuing my humiliation ritual. I answer Yes I’m Fine about three dozen times. Now I miss those dickhead uninterested lifeguards who didn’t coddle me so much.

She scolds me for not being careful as I hobble through my apartment towards the shower, still not easy to walk on it. I glance down at my ankle and see it’s swollen to the size of a softball with a giant visible sting scar. I hope it doesn’t fully heal so there’s finally something Unique and Interesting about my body.

As I try to clean myself in the shower I let the “FUCK”s and “HNNRGGHHGHghHH”s fly free whenever I accidentally put pressure on the foot, until I begin to get longhoused by my lady who wants to “supervise” me:

“You sound really angry!”

“Do you have to keep screaming?”

“You need to calm down. Is there anything I can do to help?”

I pause for a second, what kind of donation does a wounded warrior deserve…

“Can you piss on it?” I ask, jokingly, of course.

“No.”

“When I get out of the shower, maybe some head?”

Silence.

“... I’m okaaay. How about I order you a GIANT cookie on UberEats?”