The Monster Inside of Us

There’s absolutely no reason for energy drinks to exist. I’m actually still trying to figure out one conceivable reason why someone would want to pump their bodies full of pure sugary-sweet liquid.

My roommate recently has been trying to quit Monster. If you don’t know, Monster is an energy drink product, typically in a black and green can, which tastes like liquefied cheese cake. My roommate has been straight addicted to it for the last three or four months.

All over the apartment I find these empty Monster cans, a trail le disading to his room, where I will find him wired in front of his Xbox 360, screaming into the microphone at some also energy drink-swilling teenager, who’s equally screaming back at him.

How has our society disintegrated this far?

I’ve been around coke-heads. My roommate, when he’s ‘riding the monster’ is exactly like the frantic, manic, panicked state, and then there’s the inevitable crash, where I’ve literally seen him curled in the fetal position, in corner, strung out, hugging his knees, looking at a spot on the wall.

Kids are on this shit and it’s scary. To what purpose do these drinks serve? Have we become so busy in our lives, that we require pure adrenaline in our systems to operate?

Call me a Luddite, but I’m almost certain that Quakers, and Pilgrims and Shakers and such, get more done in a day without the use of a fucking Rockstar or Monster, or Red Bull. They fucking build houses and barns with their bare hands, they get up at ungodly hours (hours most kids like my roommate) have never even heard of, to take care of animals and livestock. The day I see some black-clad Quaker kid chugging a Monster, is the day I officially become a goddamn Canadian.

My personal experience (because I would not be an objective Gonzo journalist without getting into the story first hand…) with Monster was about two weeks ago. Everyone where I worked was on the stuff, thanks to my roommate. So I told the roommate to pick me up a regular sized can of the stuff, to see what all the hype behind it was.

I had a two thirds of a can over the course of three hours, my roommate drank his can in three gulps right in front of me, crushed the can in his fist and threw it out, not before screaming something that a Goth warrior would right before battle. I sat in my chair, at work, and fiddled nervously about while I tried to conduct some sort of business that I was expected to perform during those hours.

I could barely sit still. I was taking tiny sips of the stuff, and then try to type. My fingers couldn’t find the right keys and I was at a loss for words. It was as if everything I wanted to say wanted to come out at the same time, as if the insides of my mouth were a burning night club, and the words were drunk patrons, trying to escape the inferno.

By the time I was relieved from my post by another fellow employee, I was straight wired. I couldn’t concentrate on what was going on, and I was jumping from one task to the next without so much as completing the former before the latter.

I was riding the monster, hard.

I couldn’t go to sleep that night, my heart was thudding hard in my chest, making my eyes pulse and hands shake. I tried to pace around, but I only found that my legs weren’t moving fast enough for the rest of my body. Should I go for a run? I thought. I thought better of it, considering it was 0330 in the morning.

The next morning (after nodding off at some point, from the crash) I had a terrible stomach ache. I tried to take a shit, but nothing would happen, no matter how hard I tried. I was sweating and still shaking, my nerves were set on high. I felt like if I had one more sip of Monster, I’d even out a little, I could at least get something done that day.

And that’s how addiction gets you by the balls.

It wasn’t until about a full 48 hours later that I felt secure that I was out of the grasp of the demon that is Monster. But it doesn’t mean I wasn’t looking over my shoulder the whole time, wondering where it was. And to think that kids as young as 11 are pumping this stuff into their bodies.

I’m just sayin’…