Category Archives: Kevin Berg

Cure

Suffocation. Invasion. Intoxication. Addiction. Hope. Pain. Misery. Abrasion. Deceit. Deception. Disappointment. Disaster.
+++++Noise. From the moment he wakes until he is finally able to fall asleep at night, there is noise.
+++++Whiny advertisements and complaints as proclamations, answers with solutions lacking validity or support, and someone broadcasts something far too personal in an insincere attempt at imaginary friendship, yet another disinterested participant.
+++++Everyone shouts over each other to like or sell or hate or ask or recommend or plead or bitch or buy.
+++++Submit to the sound of their voice, swoon over their command of the written word, everything appeals to an indifferent audience. Everyone waits for the quiet, finally, to corrupt with their own bullshit. They can voice an opinion, and distracted strangers might listen, but only long enough to remember something else to grumble about.
+++++The alarm sounds at five in the morning, a smartphone set to vibrate, the buzz from the nightstand the closest to quiet he will experience today. Without waking his wife or children, he pads to the bathroom where he shits as he checks his email and bank account, then hops into the shower to shave, shampoo, and rub one out. His only preparation for the painful day ahead. Because it is Tuesday. Afterward, he grabs a mix of clothes from the dryer and the floor, a pair of boxers from the hamper – and with a quick sniff – they pass the test. It is only work anyway.
+++++The assault begins as soon as the car starts, the day comes in bursts.
+++++The commute.

“…accident not your fault…”
“…greed…”
“…problems with erectile dysfunction…”
“…sometimes…”
“…get rich selling real estate…”
“…lies…”
“…struggling with addiction…”
“…tired…”
“…fat…”
“…opinion…”
“…everyone…”
“…needy…”
“…donate blood…”
“…your problem…”
“…give money…”
“…your responsibility…”
“…hatemonger…”
“…Cheeto…”
“…God hates you…”
“…hopefully…”

Then work as usual.

“…new policy…”
“…why…”
“…because…”
“…hate this place…”
“…I’m important…”
“…incompetence…”
“…management…”
“…numbers…”
“…annoying…”
“…do this…”
“…I’m pretty…”
“…wrong…”
“…too busy…”
“…laziness…”
“…can’t do my job…”
“…call the union…”
“…don’t understand…”
“…employment has been terminated…”

And back home.

“…feed us…”
“…dinner…”
“…clean up…”
“…dishes…”
“…that smell…”
“…trash…”
“…still hungry…”
“…never enough…”
“…money…”
“…bills…”
“…I’m thirsty…”
“…never finished…”
“…I’m sleepy…”
“…goodnight…”
“…need…”
“…of course…”
“…monsters…”
“…dead…”
“…love you…”
“…me too…”
“…want…”
“…no…”
“…hate you…”
“…I know…”

Stuck in traffic tomorrow, the noise swells to fill his ears and spill out; the overflow swallows him and muffles a cry for help as he drowns. He cannot think. He cannot breathe. Everything questions and contradicts and complains to interfere with the quiet.
+++++The light burns red, the gearshift clunks to park before the brake is activated, and he steps from the vehicle.
+++++The trunk opens with a small click, and everything is muted. The noise moves to the background, bubbling violently just beneath the surface, as he looks to the pain relief stored there. A working prototype for the new cure, resting comfortably in the cool silence.
+++++After a few beautiful moments, even his mind doesn’t respect the quiet. Another victim of corporate brainwashing and globalization, it vomits disposable claims into the brain of a perfect consumer.

“…fast and effective…”
“…clinically tested…”
“…as seen on TV…”
“…doctor recommended…”
“…same day shipping…”
“…safe and simple…”
“…drug free…”
“…non habit-forming…”
“…buy online or in-store today…”
“…money back guarantee…”
“…your friends will respect you…”
“…your family will appreciate you…”

Definitely not new, but redesigned for a better overall experience. Pain Blast! With a fucking exclamation point. That means serious business.
+++++The cure is beautiful. Breath-taking.
+++++Black plastic and steel run from the ported barrel to the tactical handgrip, light, for the twelve gauge shells it uses. The eight-round magazine tube has been replaced with an inexpensive, yet extremely effective modification. Greater capacity, and straight out of a fucking comic book. A twelve round drum and a vertical foregrip, rapid reload simplified, the opportunity for more mushrooming slugs to be carried and fired quickly. When you really need to blow a motherfucker in half with one shot.
+++++But he only needs one. People talk too fucking much. Four F-bombs and the fucking ellipses. Five. He is a hypocrite.
+++++The cool steel muzzle sits silently under his chin, and he closes his eyes against the noise.