"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 12

Click here for previous Rehab. 

I'm sitting on the floor just waiting to be able to move again when Google sits down next to me. He just looks at me, smiles, and hands me a juice box. He holds his up, we tap them together, and he starts sipping. I go to insert my straw and the damn thing breaks. I inhale deeply to release an anguished cry when he sticks another straw in my face. This guy is like an angel.

“Who are you?” I ask him. He just shrugs and continues to drink.

“No one special” he says, scratching his calf that is covered in long, curly hair. “I just like to know things.”

“Okay” I say. “Then can you tell me why Sad Sack kicked my ass?”

“Besides the fact that you accused him of rape?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it turns out that he lost a scholarship for the same accusation during his senior year of high school” Google says. I sigh. “Exactly. No way you could've known that, of course, which is why we all need to be mindful of what we say to others.” Google begins to stand and I grab his wrist.

“Don't leave just yet” I say. “You're the first person in ten minutes not to assault me.”

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 11

Click here for parts 1- 11.

Sad Sack left the room after assaulting me. What kinda man touches another man's dick without giving him the chance to return the favor? I know how that sounds but I am in far too much pain to care right now. I try to sit up and a sound somewhere between a whimper and a belch escapes my lips. I think I'll lay here for a few more minutes. I close my eyes and someone knocks on the door frame.

“If you're here to punch my dick get in line” I say. A woman giggles. I look and its Boobs covering her mouth which doesn't help. She's with Inky, the chick with all those tattoos and half her head shaved. “Don't take offense, but I'm not physically capable of looking at a woman right now.”

“None taken” Inky says. “Looks like you've been through hell and back.”

“I'm not back just yet” I tell her. “I swear if I sneezed right now my dick would fall off.”

“TMI” Inky says. “How did you manage to piss so many people off so fast? It hasn't even been a week here.”

“It hasn't?!” I shout, sitting up. I immediately regret this decision and curl into a ball. “Did you know that my roommate rapes his wife?”

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 10

Click here for parts 1 – 9.

After about ten minutes I am able to gather myself off the floor using the wall to prop myself up. When Softy kneed me in the dick I was rock hard. I forgot to mention it, but I don't wear underwear and I like loose pants. So I was “pointed” at 45 degrees and she got me head first, if you will. I manage to make it all the way to my room and Sad Sack is there on his bed reading a book. He looks at me, shakes his head, and keeps reading.

“I'm fine” I tell him. “No need to be concerned.”

“I wasn't” he says and licks his thumb and turns the page. I've never understood why people did that. Particularly him because he's Black and I know for a fact that he applies generous amounts of lotion to his body. “What?” he asks when he feels me looking at him. Another Black thing.

“Two things” I say. “Black people are weird and I got beat up twice in the last half hour.”

“Just twice?” he says and laughs. “You must be getting better at keeping your mouth shut.”

“I kissed Mr. W. Scott's daughter” I said while rolling to my side. For some reason that made my dick feel better. Sad Sack dropped his book and stared at me. “Well, she kissed me if you wanna be all technical about it.”

“That man is gonna kill your dumb ass” he said. “You are in here to stop drinking and fucking your father's new woman and in reality you're here to get some ass.”

“No, but Happy Hands is” I tell him. Sad Sack looks confused and I remember that I haven't told anyone these nicknames. “You know, the guy that keeps jerking it?”

“Oh, him.”

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 9

Click here for parts 1 – 8 of Rehab.

I head to the bathroom and sit on the toilet. Minutes ago after Mr. W. Scott punched me in the stomach I'd never had the urge to shit so bad in my life. Now I am fine. After ten minutes I get up and flush for no reason. I walk over to the mirror and look at myself. I look okay. Not great, but okay. My teeth could be whiter and I have a few premature gray hairs coming in. My nose is slightly crooked from that fall I took back in '09 down that flight of stairs. Or was it from when I took that cops nightstick and pretended to give it a blowjob while he had it on his hip? Either way, its crooked. Just when I'm about to leave Happy Hands walks in.

“Wow” he says to me. I just shrug. “That was quite a show you put on out there.”

“I don't get what you mean” I reply. For once he isn't touching himself. Its hard to recognize him.

“That speech you gave about your parents leaving the liquor out and all that” he says. “Oh, come on! A bullshitter can spot a bullshitter, man. And you are a bullshitter.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!” he shouts. He slaps me on the shoulder and laughs. I make a mental note to burn this shirt as soon as possible. “I don't care, but we are here to get better. Be honest and all that shit. Speaking of which...” he says and heads to a stall. He closes it and immediately starts going number two.

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 8

Click here for parts 1 – 7.

I slowly get off the stage and sit back down. I don't look at anyone. I'm bummed out. Like, super bummed out. Mr. W. Scott continues checking things off on his clipboard. Someone heads to the stage and I'm not hearing anything they say. That Shame Circle is no fun. That ant is still sitting in the third row and just staring at me. No one else seems to notice him. I don't think its real. But kids with their body modifications these days who knows for sure?

“You okay?” Sad Sack asks me. I shake my head. “Its weird seeing you like this. But a good kind of weird. You're quiet. I like it.” He nudges me and I shove him away. Not hard but enough to get attention.

“Is there a problem?” Mr. W. Scott asks. “Because there is nothing I like more than solving problems.” I'm not sure how to react right now. I can't see the ant anymore. Its not good to lose track of a ant that big.

“Can I go next?” Softy asks. “I would like to go next.”

“No” Mr. W. Scott says.

“I'm good!” I say louder than I wanted to. “I mean...I'm okay. I'm fine.”

“That is not true but we need to move on--” Mr. W. Scott says until...

“Where the fuck is that ant?!” I scream. Sad Sack almost falls out of his chair. “So its just me? I'm the only one that saw the giant ant?”

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 7

Click here for parts 1 – 6.

I hate going first. The only time its okay is during an orgy or car crash. Otherwise you are forced to suffer or see a bunch of crap that you don't wanna see. Mr. W. Scott is standing there waiting for me to get up and walk to the center of the Shame Circle. Sad Sack won't even make eye contact with me. Boobs does and I taste the last thing I ate earlier again. I can hear Beef sniffling behind me. I look to the right a few seats over and Softy is sitting there staring at her father like she is trying to make him burst into flames.

I consider saying how shy I am about public speaking and then I hear Beef blow his nose into his sleeve and think better of it. I clear my throat and walk to the center. Mr. W. Scott steps aside as I pull the microphone closer to my lips. I wait for Mr. W. Scott to go sit down somewhere but he doesn't. He just stands there waiting for me to start.

“Hello” I say. No one responds. Rude, much? “My name is Alan Thompson and I'm kind of a big deal.” Silence. “How am I supposed to start this?”

“Start with when you first became the pathetic mess that stands before me darkening my soul with each moment you are allowed to exist” Mr. W. Scott says.

“I had my first drink when I was--”

“Earlier.”

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 6

Click here for parts 1-5.

It's lunch time and everyone is starting to fall apart. Not me. Aside from my hands shaking uncontrollably when they choose to I'm still my happy self. Sad Sack is still upset at Mr. W. Scott for telling him about the bounced check. I tried to explain to him that this place isn't free and he flipped my bed over.

With me in it.

I started talking about Black Rage and he left the room. I didn't even get to tell him about Softy and how her dad runs this place. I need to figure out why she's even here. Maybe she's a spy. I bet she is. Damn it! I knew something was wrong with this place! Man, it's as hot as a crotch in here!

“Are you hot?” I ask Happy Hands which turns out to be a bad move on my part. His tongue darts in and out of his mouth about two dozen times in a couple of seconds and he locks eyes with me. I start to turn away but he places his hand on my shoulder and I am forced to face him.

“I'm always hot” he whispers.

“Where's you other hand?” I ask. He just smiles and I bolt. I see Boobs sitting with two guys and decide that it would be responsible of me, you know socially, to leave her alone. Honestly, its the fact that she is smiling and her smile looks like it could dent steel. Its Africa hot in this place. I wipe my brow and my hand is covered in sweat. “What the hell is going on?”

“Delirium tremens” Mr. W. Scott says from behind me. “I'll be keeping a close eye on you, Mr. Thompson.”

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 5

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After Sad Sack finishes crying, thanking me for saving him, and then threatening to kill me if the check I give him bounces he finishes doing his pushups. I'm not a fan of sweat so I head down the hall to see if I can meet some new friends. Boobs has her door closed but the sounds coming out of her room prove that she isn't alone. Either she is having sex or a gorilla got into this facility and is attacking her. Either way I keep moving.

I get to a room at the end of the hall and hear music playing. Mr. W. Scott wouldn't be happy about this. I step into the doorway and this chick is sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. She's got on tight blue jeans and a black t-shirt. She has her back to me and her ass crack is hanging out which is driving me crazy.

“What?” she says without even turning to face me. Rude.

“Hello, Softy” I reply to her. “You know, with this smooth music playing, you meditating, and the nice lighting in here some would think that you were expecting a date. Well...” I say while hitching my pants up “...here I am.” She scoffs at me. So rude!

She finally turns to face me and perhaps calling her Softy was a bad idea. She has a look in her eyes that I have seen only once before. No. Twice. In Mr. W. Scott and Joseph Stalin. My hands start shaking so I put them in my pockets which is a bad move because now it looks like I am fiddling with myself.

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 4

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The first night sounds like a scene out of Schindler’s List. Lots of moaning and weeping. Every half hour you hear someone throw themselves against their door. Yeah. They lock us down at night. Mr. W. Scott didn't tell us this until after dinner which caused an uproar until he looked up from his clipboard. Mouths shut faster than a first day inmates ass.

Where do I get this stuff from?

Sad Sack cant sleep so he is just lying on his bed punching his palm. He's been doing it for hours. I cant sleep with what sounds like hard, rhythmic masturbation. I stretch on my bed and yawn which is the universal signal for wanting to sleep and I hear bed springs. Sad Sack jumps from his bed and gets in my face.

“Told you we'd fall in love” I tell him. He just breathes in my face. He smells like cocoa butter. That's not racist. He uses the stuff.

“Can you shut the fuck up while I'm trying to sleep?!” he hisses in my face. I am so tempted to kiss him on the tip of his nose. Instead I just poke him on it.

“Boop.” He growls and lays back down.

“I need to break some shit.”

“Or...you could sleep” I suggest.

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 3

Click here for Part 1.

Click here for Part 2.

Its not even lunchtime and I am dying for a drink. Literally dying. Thankfully me and Sad Sack are being distracted by Boobs as she makes her rounds. She’s not talking to anyone, just walking around and being sexy…from the neck down. I’ve slept with some very unattractive women in my time. But even in my most drunken state I had my limits.

Usually.

“I would hurt that woman’s feelings” Sad Sack says under his breath. I almost don’t hear him. I’m paying attention to this guy across the way watching Boobs and he has more interest than a new home. I nudge Sad Sack and his eyes go wide. God, I love Black people. They have the best reactions. “Jesus…”

“I think we should introduce ourselves” I suggest.

“Not yet” Sad Sack says. Suddenly the guy who I’ll now call Happy Hands grits his teeth and lets out a small scream. And right on cue here comes Mr. W. Scott. Happy Hands tries to pretend he doesn’t see him and starts walking towards the exit. He makes eye contact with us. Sad Sack looks at the ceiling. I wave. Mr. W. Scott sees me and shaves a few years off my life with a sneer.

“I bet that guy is the happiest one in the room” I say. “I mean, before joy kill showed up. He sees a chick like Boobs over there and instead of storing her in his Spank Bank for later he just took care of it now. Damn.”

Mr. W. Scott points to the exit and Happy Hands leaves. The room just got a little sadder. Mr. W. Scott walks over to us and eyeballs Sad Sack. He pulls out his clipboard and checks something off and walks away.

“Hate that nigga” Sad Sack says.

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa!” I say. “Whoa!”

“What?” he asks.

“You absolutely have to stop saying that ugly word” I tell him.

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 2

Click here for Part 1.

Day one of rehab was stupid really. Everyone is pretty much preparing themselves to be miserable. Nobody is looking forward to the shakes and all that fun stuff. I don’t care. Shit happens. I wander around getting the lay of the land of this place until I head to my room. There’s a big Black guy sitting on one of the beds. Hmm. Didn’t know we were gonna have roommates. He’s staring at the wall where a TV should be and has a pile of Kleenex sitting on what is my bed.

“Hello, Sad Sack” I say to him. He stops crying and looks at me for a few moments before he starts crying again. Oh, this is gonna be so fun. You have no idea how excited I am about this.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks me between sobs.

“My name is Alan Thompson and I am an alcoholic” I tell him with a bow. We don’t bow enough anymore. He doesn’t bother to introduce himself so he will continue to be known as Sad Sack for the rest of this tale. “You mind getting your shit off my bed so I can lay down?" Sad Sack grabs all the tissues and throws them on the floor. I hate a mess so I pick them up and place them on his pillow.

Black people scare me. No, I’m not racist. I love Black porn and Black music. But I’m just not used to being around them. Sad Sack jumps off the bed and grabs me by the collar and slams me against the wall. I’d say something real clever but all the air in my lungs is currently moving the curtains across the room.

“Don’t fuck with me!” he shouts. His breath smells like cinnamon. “I got too much shit on my plate to have your ignorant ass making things worse!”

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 1

“I will not praise your weakness. I will not celebrate your sobriety. Your failings as a human and hopefully triumphant return to the land of those of us that contribute to society in varying useful ways shall not give me cause for applause. In the next three weeks you will hurt. You will cry, beg, plead, shout, scream, and pray. Welcome to your rebirth. Now get out of here.”

What the hell kinda of rehab was this?! That lovely introduction given by Mr. W. Scott was either meant to inspire us all to be better people or to see how fast we could all race to the front desk to see if it was too late to get a partial refund on our checks. 

Why would someone ever subjugate themselves to something like this? I mean, who wouldn’t want to pay $5,000 a week to have someone remind you of what a hot mess you were and how your parents wish that the condom had worked or that your father hadn’t had that extra glass of wine thus making your mother attractive enough to slide his noodle-like genitalia into her sand-like vagina?

Fuck Disneyland, this is the happiest place on Earth!