Today was a long and very weird-ass day…
I really might have messed up big-time coming here. It’s close to bedtime and I’m sitting down on my little cot feeling pretty emotional right now. I’d say I’m scared even. Remember how I mentioned that my most significant fear here is being assigned to the control group? That is no longer my biggest fear. However, I might in fact, be in the control group. I’m thinking so because I took the pills today and I didn’t feel a damn thing and based on what happened this morning, this could be a good thing.
At the same time, however, I am going to be pissed if I get kicked back out to the streets earlier than I wanted. Which in turn means; I’m plain old fucking screwed financially. In case you Doctors haven’t been paying attention, I need to make a lot of money, it’s why I signed up.
The other problem I have is that this is going to be downright fucking dismal if I’m sober for whatever time that I’m here. I was hoping to get a little bit high from this pill, or at least a small buzz, but no such luck. The reason I complain is that it’s fucking dull in here! There is almost nothing to do in this place! No TV, internet, phones, or video games. All there is, is a large wooden shelf filled with a bunch of boring books and a single deck of cards. It’s really depressing in this place. The only thing that keeps my spirits up is the idea of making money.
Back to more pressing concerns and the reason I’m kind of scared...
This morning, they woke us up at 7 am, which really sucks because I didn’t get shit for sleep last night. For breakfast, they gave us chocolate fucking protein shakes, a fistful of vitamins and some bottled water. Let me fucking tell you something… that hot-tempered Randy I told you about, turned into an absolute bitch about the shakes. Jesus, he is one big fucking baby. He threw a giant tantrum this morning as soon as he saw the Doc roll them in. I’m pretty sure it’s because when we first got here, one of their sales pitches was that they’d feed us well and Randy was REALLY looking forward to it. He apparently likes to eat a lot and sometimes doesn’t shut up about food. Obviously, he was expecting a luxurious breakfast with egg McMuffins, bacon, hash browns and orange juice or something along those lines. So, when the doctor and orderly walked in this morning pushing a cart filled with shakes and vitamins, Randy immediately blew a gasket. He got right in Dr. Robert’s face.
“What in the flying ASS FUCK is this?” he roared at the doctor.
Doctor Roberts seemed a little startled by Randy’s hostility at first but regained and kept his composure. He responded with, “It’s what you get,” and I could see Randy’s jaw clench, and hear his nostrils flare out hot air.
All the rest of us just stared in silence for a few awkward moments until Randy finally grabbed the shake and drank it. He then bitched into my ear for the rest of the morning about how lunch better be real fucking food. Which it wasn’t…
I can’t blame him for being upset, I wouldn’t have minded some hot food and fresh coffee either because this “no smoking” bullshit I’m going through is making my stomach growl, but whatever man, I’m here for the money. A few hours after this so-called breakfast, they brought us into the testing room. It’s a totally white room attached off the big shared room we all lounge in and separated by a hefty metal door. The interior of the testing room is round, brightly lit, immaculately clean, and has fifteen lab chairs in a circular formation. There’s also a bunch of machines lining the walls for measuring our heart rate, brainwaves and body temperatures. They strapped us into the chairs and then attached some wonky looking pads onto our chests and heads. The whole process of getting fastened in made me anxious as hell. I don’t like being restrained at all and I felt this dreadful sense of concern ripple through me when the clasps were locked, like the way a murder victim might feel as they’re being tied down by a serial killer. Scary shit, that I can tell you.
All fifteen of us were just staring around the room at each other with widened “oh shit” eyes, and no one had the nerve to say anything at all. That rat-nest hairdo guy I mentioned yesterday, tubby-fuck, kept shitting gas clouds into the room and stinking it up. A few people snickered for some fucked up reason. I guess they didn’t understand that there’d be no way to block the scent from our noses since we were tied down. I really wanted to ask the doctor to unstrap me for a minute so I could walk over and bitch-slap him upside the head. The man just kept shitting… It felt like my airways were constantly being violated by his disgusting fart spores. I kept getting this hallucinogenic image of this asshole’s tiny, fecal whirlwinds floating through the air and into my nose, and into my bloodstream. I mean, imagine if you were tied down and forced to breathe some strange and ugly man’s shit-puffs into your lungs… fucking disgusting, right? There is something really off about that guy. They should boot his ass out of the experiment if you ask me.
So, at any rate, in fucking disgust, I sat there worried they were going to inject us with needles, but they are using pills instead, which is great because I hate needles with a passion. So, that was kind of a positive twist. The only thing that sucked about it was having the doctor be the one to put the pills in my mouth and pour the water down my throat. Extremely uncomfortable and humiliating to be honest.
Then we just sat there and waited for something to happen. The doctors kept circling around us in silence watching the machines we were attached to. After about 30 minutes, two people freaked their shit, and I mean, big-fucking-time. One of them was a cute college chick, Stephanie, and the other was Michael, the author of some Mediterranean cookbook that never sold, I forgot what he called it. They both, simultaneously, had some fucked-up reaction and started screaming hot-blooded murder at the ceiling. I wasn’t feeling any kind of effect at all, but the sound of those two gave me the instant heebie-jeebies. All of us became frantic and rattled around in our binds, trying to get loose. The screaming continued and just wouldn’t fucking stop. I heard Michael get in a few loose words like, “not again” and “take me back.” I’m not sure what the fuck he was referring to, but it could have been some bitter relationship from the past he wasn’t quite over. The doctors began to frantically unstrap the two of them and were able to get them out of the room without getting hurt. Stephanie was completely limp, but Michael acted like he was on PCP and in a mosh pit.
I think the doctors removed them from the room just to keep the rest of us from going crazy ourselves, drugs or no drugs, that shit was insane. The way they sounded, man… you’d think they were getting their skin peeled off with a rusty razor or something. It kind of makes me glad I got the placebo pill, if that’s indeed what I got. If I didn’t, then I guess I have a pretty awesome tolerance for chemicals, which kind of makes sense given my history.
Anyway, that’s why I’m fucking weirded out right now and thinking that I perhaps made a mistake in getting involved with this, but if I don’t get kicked out early, and I don’t have any crazy reactions… then I guess it’s all going to be okay?
Now, there’s 13 of us left as we later came to find out. I guess, Michael and Stephanie are completely removed from the trial. I haven’t seen any other odd reactions. Randy tells me that his skull feels tight, like he’s got a head cold or something, but that seems kind of minor to me based on the fact that it is winter, and people get sick from the cold. Plus, there’s lots of germs in this place, especially from that ass-shitter who’s in the group with us. Other than that, not much to say. How do I feel? I’m feeling just a little bit irritated, which is not entirely a bad thing I suppose. I was scared to shit earlier, but now I actually feel a little calmer than before since I started writing this entry a few minutes ago. That must be another reason that you people want us to write a journal entry every day I imagine.
On the plus side, today, I’ve made another $300, which puts me up to $600, and if I can get a solid week at least, then I’ll be able to pay my rent and also put a down payment to my bookie. Paying something is better than nothing. The only thing that sucks, is the feeling of pissing away money on a debt that increases every day it’s not paid off. Don’t ever fuck with bookies or loan sharks Dr. Nelson, just don’t. Fair fucking warning.
Also, while I have your attention Doctor, I wish you would tell us what the fuck these pills are supposed to do. You know? Like this formula 35C shit… is it a drug that helps us become smarter, or helps us remember things? I’m assuming it’s something like that, but after today, seeing two people go section-8 right away, I’m feeling its possibly just plain old dangerous shit. I guess I shouldn’t worry too much about it since I’m probably taking the sugar pill, right? Sigh.
Earlier this evening, I was in the common room where everyone just kind of vegetates on the couches and I started to look around at my fellow test subjects. Most people were attempting to socialize with each other and do normal things. It’s still a little awkward for all of us. It doesn’t help that we’re not allowed to watch TV or use phones as I mentioned earlier. The place would be dead still if it wasn’t for the quiet and easy-going classical music constantly playing for us through the overhead speakers. It’s not really my style of music, but it definitely beats total silence. I decided to start watching everyone to see if I could pinpoint who might be on the drug. So far, everyone looks pretty normal, which makes me think that there’s still hope for me and that I might be on the actual formula.
I saw Randy trying to talk with that hot little blonde chick, (her name is Emily by the way) while she distractedly tried to read one of the books from the shelves, and it appeared to me she was semi-interested in what he had to say. I hope his wife doesn’t find out he’s trying to spit game in here. Depending on how things go during this trial, I may try hitting on Emily too, but it’s too early to make that decision I think.
I also noticed a few people playing an amateur game of Texas Hold ‘em at the table. Seeing those clowns fumble their cards and make stupid bets, makes me really tempted to play against them and take all their money. Or I could just run a card game for them and get them to wager their earned money from the experiment. If I run it, I won’t even have to play, I can just collect a 20% house fee. I wonder if the Doctors will object to that. I know they’re watching us right now because they have cameras all over the place, even in our little sleeping rooms for fucks sake.
Wow, I keep forgetting that you are reading these entries Dr. Nelson, and it’s cool, sometimes I feel like I’m just writing in a diary that nobody reads. So, when I talk about the “Doctors” and say mean shit, it’s because that’s how I feel, so I hope you all don’t take it too personally.
At any rate, my fear is that if I break any of the rules then they’ll kick me out. I’m going to ask one of them tonight when they bring out supper. Worst case scenario is they’ll say no. It’s hard to tell with these guys.
So far, I’ve seen three doctors here. There’s the one that feeds us, Dr. Roberts, a tall, lanky looking doofus who acts like he’s a robot and says nothing to anyone. Even with Randy right in his face bearing down on him this morning, the guy didn’t give much of a reaction. Although, Randy does have a little bit of squeak to his yelling voice, so it’s kind of hard not to laugh at him either. Then there’s Dr. Waters, who’s younger than I am, I think, but he’s already balding. He also has this mean look in his eyes, like some piss-drunk brawler at your local pub who’s just looking for trouble. It could be because he’s losing his hair, or maybe he just hates his job, or his girlfriend… who the fuck knows. All I know is that he’s the one who preps us into the chairs in the testing room and gives us the pills. He hardly says a word to us, other than, “move your leg, please,” and “open wide.”
Ironically, Stephanie, the girl who is now out of the program, asked him a question this morning as he was putting the straps on her. She asked if any part of the experiment was going to hurt and he just kind of looked at her like, “Shut the fuck up and be happy you’re making some money, bitch.” He didn’t say that obviously, but it was in his angry little eyes, and no one asked any questions after. It was awkward and didn’t really help to ease the nervousness we were all feeling already.
Lastly, there’s you Dr. Nelson, you’re the mad scientist looking fella with the Albert Einstein hairdo. He’s the one who sold us on this whole experiment when we first got here. He promised us that we’d be under close observation and that the lab was equipped to deal with side effects, if any, and that the best we could hope for was some elevated brain activity. I asked him what the pills are supposed to do when we first got here, and he just said, we’d find out if we were lucky. Completely didn’t answer my question now that I think about it. He seems friendly, but he also seems like he’s hiding something from us. It’s in his eyes when he thinks no one is watching. Maybe I'm just paranoid, I don’t know. I do know that it’d be pretty fucking stupid to run a laboratory experiment on human beings without having any idea what’s going to happen. I mean shit… shouldn’t they have already tested this formula 35c on rats or something? I sucked at science, but I at least understand the steps.
Let’s hope tomorrow they decide to switch me out of the placebo pill (if I’m on it) on account of the fact that we’ve lost two people already. I wonder what happened to them. Are they just lunatics now wailing away in some dark asylum? Or did they just have to cool off and be set upon their merry ass way with their measly $600? I don’t know…
Now that I’ve said all that, let’s do the math… I’ve been here two days, which is only $600 and that ain’t shit. I owe $1,300 in rent, and I’m into my bookie for at least $5,000 as of today. Notice, I said “today”. The Rizetto fucks are charging me 5 points in juice every week, so over the next four weeks I need to scrape up a little more than $6,000 to pay the debt off completely. Just to get even, I need to be here about 24 days, well, 28 days if I also want to pay next months’ rent too. I’m trying not to freak out here. I could really use a cigarette, or at least go outside. Man, they don’t let us out of here for anything, and I really wish I had a way to find out what is going on in the world.
Talk to you tomorrow.