I have a lot of sick fantasies. Most involve girls from high school, duct tape, a dark room, VA VA DOOM!!!, and me in a rabbit costume. Others are more realistic and much sicker. How sick? You be the judge.
Sick Fantasy Number 1:
I want a debilitating injury or illness that leaves me hospital bound. Thinking logically, I don’t want this. I don’t want the pain or fear of having something seriously wrong with me. It’s a terrible thing. Thinking illogically, this is a thought that gets me hard.
Being in the hospital means a lot of great things. For one, I don’t have to go to work. I don’t mind my job. It’s just the waking up and going there that’s annoying. If I’m hospital bound, I don’t have to go through that stress of dragging myself out of bed so I have enough money to pay for the gas to–get me to work? Shit. That doesn’t make sense.
I’ve ever spent much time in hospitals. I have no memory of ever spending the night in one. Television and movies have tricked me into thinking hospitals are fun places. All desks have lollipops and all nurses are sassy. It seems like fun. I can lie in my bed and write all day long. I haven’t been in a hospital since the Internet was readily available. I can only imagine how much fun it would be now to be there recovering after a car accident. You could play The Sims all day long and nobody will think you’re wasting your time on a fake life instead of a real life. You’re sick. All is forgiven.
In 3rd grade I had a project due that I was struggling with. It involved a lot of gluing, not my strong suit. I remember silently wishing that I would get hurt and not have to finish it. A week later I broke my leg. My teacher said that I didn’t have to finish the project if I didn’t want to. I lucked out that time. I had an injury that I recovered from easily and got out of working with construction paper for a week. My true sick fantasy didn’t come true, but I got what I wanted out of it. An excuse to be unproductively lazy.
Sick Fantasy Number 2:
I guess this is the same as my first in a way. I still want to delve into it to try to convince myself that it’s something I would like. Delve is the correct word, right? When you want to dip your hand into a topic? You only ever delve into ideas and thoughts. Nobody delves into a swimming pool or a pair of underpants. We really need to use the word more.
Onto my fantasy, I want to be in a coma. Actually, I don’t. Or maybe I do? I’m not sure yet. I think it would be kind of cool though to be one of those people who are in a coma for a few years and then comes out of it. You know, if I had a baseball hit me in the head right now and didn’t wake up for 5 years, so much would be different. The president might be someone I’ve never even heard of. At least one celebrity that I like will be dead. A new genre of music will exist for me to hate. I’ll get to fast forward through the bullshit of it all and go straight into the future. Time travel doesn’t exist? Ask those who have been in a coma!
I know this would never happen. My family wouldn’t be able to afford it. That’s funny in a sick sort of way. Most people who survive long stints in a coma come out of it with gigantic medical bills. They have to spend the rest of their lives paying off the bills. Liquid steak is expensive. Here you are, a medical miracle who survived all those years on life support and they slap you with a huge bill that your stupid family has given you because they thought it’s what you wanted. The worst thing about being in a coma would be that you could never write a book about your experience. It would just be “One second I was studying for my mathematics final at university, the next I was turning 40.” Living with a coma might not be as much fun as I thought. I still wouldn’t mind it. Using the logic of numbers, if I sleep for 5 straight years then I won’t have to sleep for the next 5. Imagine all that I can get accomplished!
Sick Fantasy Number 3:
This might be the most common one and the only that another human being can agree with. I want to live in a post-apocalyptic world. I don’t mean a sad version of it either. I mean a cool Mad Max one. I want to wear spikes on my shoulders. Have to fight cannibals with big swords that I don’t know the proper name of or where I got it from. That’d be so badass.
After the apocalypse, law would no longer matter. I can do whatever it is I want and know the thrill of what it’s like to kill a bad guy on a motorcycle. I think that would be really neat. I mean, I have to die someday. Why not it be with the chance to experience a present day society and that of one after nuclear holocaust?
I know how I’d want to die too. I would want to be fighting some bad guys and they’d kill me in front of a good friend. Possibly someone I have mentored. He’ll vow vengeance and go on a historic mission to claim that vendetta. He’ll kill a whole army of bad guys in my honor. I’d probably get a school named after me or a statue made to my likeness. Too bad at that point schools will be brothels and statues will be steel sex dolls. We can kill the earth, but we can never kill the human libido.