I’m greeted by a teenage boy with a t-shirt on that says ‘ALPHA’. He walks me through the fire exits, the large bottles of water they have, the contract. I sign before kicking the door open and entering the podcast studio.
“Alright! How’s it going my man?” says the co-host. There are two co-hosts and an array of models sat around a circular table. All across it are laid cigars, roast chickens and piles of legal highs that the co-hosts sponsor throughout the podcast. I sit down. On the 4k cameras I look like shit. People realise how old I am.
“Alright, alright, alright.” I say, mimicking Matthew McConaughey lamely. I can tell the women are revolted by me. The men are eager for my attention.
“So, you used to post some pretty edgy content. Are you going to stand up right now and own it?”
“You mean I did it? Sure.” I say. A gorilla roaring sound effect is played whilst a 3D replica of the crown from Game of Thrones spins and is placed onto my head in post production.
“That’s uh, what I like about you, uh, you just kinda, you know, heh, you say it how, how it is.” said the other co-host, trying to light a cigar. The production people behind the camera squirm, backlit by the array of lights placed on the other side of the room.
“Let me set the scene. I was twenty five goddamn years old. I’d just won my first Pulitzer. It wasn’t like nowadays when people tell you stuff is going bad. At the time, I saw injustice and tried to express that through my writing. I was interested in the power structures behind media, science, society, you know? I wanted to replicate an exaggerated view of the world as that is its true essence.” I say, hogging the mic.
“Look bro, we don’t care about that woke shit.” Laughs one co-host. The other has this horrible sneering laugh but is dead in the eyes.
“Go on, say it. Say you’re a little beta bitch cuck soyboy and think women are real.” Says the other. I take a look at both of them, then take out a pack of Mayfair from the top pocket of my shirt. It has no cancer warnings on, these are vintage smokes. I pop open the top and the sweet smell, almost gingery, hits me even beneath the foil top. I peel it back and see twenty cigarettes, white filter tips, giraffe patterned filter. Give the bottom a soft flick and a few lurch out, take it out as you push the others in.
The key to smoking is increasing the pressure in your mouth from the cigarette, then inhaling the contents of your mouth. You can drink and smoke at the same time, but it is often easier to just do one at a time. I light the cigarette and blow it in both their faces.
“Fuck off mate.” I say, flicking the cigarette at one of them, he leaps and yelps.
“What are you doing!”
“How about you finish that goddamn sentence with a question mark you piece of shit.” I say, pulling the revolver from my pocket, bringing it up and cocking it.
“Hey now, calm down man!”
“What, you think this is real?” I say, turning and shooting him five times. He screamed, twitching in his seat before realising I had a water pistol. It had all been a farce. We all laughed and settled back down.
“I changed my mind about a lot of things. Its good to grow. If we’re going to judge a person now on what they had done in the past, can a person ever be forgiven? If not, then what is the purpose of discussing such things. If it is preordained that we cannot grow then the idea things could ever improve is impossible.”
“So why keep them up then?”
“My posts?”
“Yeah bro, are you fucking stupid?”
“Look. I’ve said and done some shit. I own it, I said it, I say different things now.”
“Oh my god is bro doing an internet apology?” laughs a co-host
“For real?” says the other,
“I do not apologise as I do not deserve forgiveness.”
