“Fuck the Celebrities” by Sheila Mannix
Thursdaze (because the weekend won’t come fast enough) features original flash fiction modeled after our Drug Chronicles Series. Each story is an original one, and each encapsulates the author’s fictional experience with drugs. Our print series has anthologized authors writing about marijuana, cocaine, speed, and heroin, but contributors to the web series can focus on any drug, real or imagined, controlled or prescribed, illegal or soon-to-be legalized. Submissions to Thursdaze will be judged on an author’s ability to stylistically emulate his or her substance of choice. Submissions are also limited to 750 words, so try to focus. (They have a pill for that.)
This week, Sheila Mannix hangs out with the young and beautiful.
He was talking too much; either he had unstable nerves or he was wasted. I asked what he was on.
“Blow,” he said. “Want some?”
I smiled like I felt sorry for him having to ask such a question. He handed me a bag under the table.
“Enjoy,” he said.
In the cubicle I laughed out loud. He’d just given me an ounce of high-grade cocaine. But it was obvious he had money; he’d chosen The Wolseley on Piccadilly for a late-night snack. The Wolseley’s the kind of restaurant where the staff looks like members of an orchestra who’ve somehow survived a shipwreck miraculously suited and groomed. In places like that, it was a game of mine to guess what they’d play if their instruments ever washed ashore.
The silver spoon looked antique. I left it in the bag, but tipped out a quantity for later in case I split. James had cheekbones he could have rented by the hour. Beautiful people often use sex to make love to themselves, and I could see him calling out his own name in bed.
Exiting the bathroom, I passed two rich blondes. One was whining: “I like my sand yellow and my sea green.”
At the table, James was facedown in his plate, being intimate with a dozen oysters. A castaway in black tie was attempting to revive him. He felt his neck for a pulse and shrieked, “Help!”
“Piccolo flute,” I thought, and kept right on walking.
I got a cab to The Hawley Arms in Camden Town. Known to local wits as The Whorely Arms, the pub is a hangout for druggy models and musicians. It’s filled with the young, beautiful, and creative for whom the expression too cool for school was invented—boys as pretty as girls and girls as tough as the boys ain’t.
The barmaid gave me a look that could have frozen the Sahara.
“What’s that for?” I said.
She ignored the question. I took a look at her while she pulled my pint. I knew she was letting me.
She wasn’t a bad-looking chick. Good figure and the fifties dress was a plus. I’d had a run of boy-girls in skinny jeans recently who were only after my ass. Girls in dresses were less power hungry in the bedroom; they went out for the night to be prey, not hunters.
She placed the pint on the counter.
“Have we met?” I asked.
“You’re the writer,” she said. “We fucked in the toilets on Tuesday night.”
“Shit, sorry,” I said.
There was a queue for the VIP area upstairs. The blonde ahead of me had a triple-barreled name with a number at the end of it. Not my type. She was rejected by the pit bull guarding the gate.
“Fuck the celebrities,” she said.
Suddenly I was interested.
“Yeah,” she said. “I want to fuck the celebrities.”
We cut the deal in a hotel on Old Street. The following day I was on a flight to Tangier. Kif was my preferred drug, and it was cheap in Morocco. White sand and blue sea were good enough for me.
SHEILA MANNIX lives in Ireland. Her work has been broadcast on RTE Radio 1 and has appeared in Cyphers, Southword, The Poetry Bus, The Bohemyth, The SHOp, Irish Left Review, Wurm im Apfel’s can can poezine (Scotland), and Ping Pong, the journal of the Henry Miller Library (USA). Visit her website at sheilamannix.wordpress.com.
Do you have a story you’d like us to consider for online publication in the Thursdaze flash fiction series? Here are the submission terms and guidelines:
—We are not offering payment, and are asking for first digital rights. The rights to the story revert to the author immediately upon publication.
—Your submission should never have been published elsewhere.
—Your story should feature a drug, any drug, and your character’s experience with it. We’ll consider everything from caffeine to opium, and look forward to stories ranging from casual use to addiction to recovery. Stylistically, we’ll respond most favorable to stories that capture the mood and rhythm of your drug of choice.
—Include your drug of choice next to your byline.
—Your story should not exceed 750 words.
—E-mail your submission [email protected], and include THURSDAZE in the subject line. Please paste the story into the body of the email, and also attach it as a PDF file.
About the Drug Chronicles Series: Inspired by the ongoing international success of the city-based Akashic Noir Series, Akashic created the Drug Chronicles Series. The anthologies in the series feature original short stories from acclaimed authors, each of whom focuses on their fictional experience with the title drug. Current releases in the series include The Speed Chronicles (Sherman Alexie, William T. Vollmann, Megan Abbott, James Franco, Beth Lisick, Tao Lin, etc.), The Cocaine Chronicles (Lee Child, Laura Lippman, etc.), The Heroin Chronicles (Eric Bogosian, Jerry Stahl, Lydia Lunch, etc.), and The Marijuana Chronicles (Joyce Carol Oates, Lee Child, Linda Yablonsky, etc.).
Posted: Apr 16, 2015
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