Benjamin Drevlow
Editor’s Note: This story mentions suicidal ideation. Please read with care.
livin that trash life
I’m working on this new Sims rip-off game, except keeping it real, where you have to navigate the challenges of getting out of bed, getting off the couch, sitting upright anywhere at any time, standing up, putting on clothes that aren’t your jogging pants and hoodie, walking one foot in front of the other, leaving the house, eating food that isn’t Oreos or Cheetos, taking all ten of your random assortment of pills to keep you from going crazy, killing yourself, dying of a heart attack, or getting heart burn, maybe help you talk to another human, talking to any living thing besides your trash dogs, letting your trash dogs out to go to the bathroom, walking the trash dogs, feeding the trash dogs when you haven’t eaten yourself, talking to the trash dogs to maintain their spirits when they look at you broken hearted that you haven’t been able to bring yourself to walk them for the last three mornings, turning on the computer to return emails to people who feel like you owe them emails in response or they will take your money away, take your water away, take your power away, take your apartment away, ditto text messages on your phone, don’t even try returning voice mails, going to the bathroom instead of holding it in and trying to fart it away, getting on the toilet, off the toilet, crying, not crying, blowing snot, not blowing snot, trying to fall asleep, trying to wake up, trying to masturbate, failing to masturbate, trying not to cry about your impotence, trying to stop crying, trying to care about any TV show enough to finish them, finish movies, watching anything except rewatching reruns of the nine seasons of the original Law & Order you can stream, binging all the staged-suicide episodes of Dateline, and eventually, God-willing, you make it to final round–bum-bu-bu-bum!! The big baddie! Taking a shower! While washing your hair! With actual shampoo! While brushing your teeth! With toothpaste! Maybe even special medicated mouthwash! For the bleeding gums and so many open sores on the top of your mouth from eating all the Oreos and Cheetos! Not getting dizzy and losing all stability in your legs and coordination and equilibrium and will to live! Not collapsing in the bathtub in a puddle of toothpaste spittle, dirty luke-warm shower water, laced with your own urine!
Or maybe the final challenge is not to avoid all this, but to take it head on, and not to crack your skull open on the side of the tub on your way down, not drown in the two inches of standing water-filth of your own making, not slit your wrists with the rusty razor you haven’t used in months. Or maybe it is to crack your skull open, drown in your own filth, slit your wrists.
I’m still not done with the coding. Still deciding what the cheat code will get you.
It’s called Taking Out the Trash.
Benjamin Drevlow is EIC of BULL and writes a bunch of bull stuff. He lives in Statesboro, GA with his nonfiction wife and three trash dogs. You can stalk him online at thedrevlow-olsonshow.com or on twitter, insta, face, bsky, & threads @thedrevlow.
