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March 21, 2017
Tales from the Steroid Bunker
That’s it, lights out. I chased him doing ninety in my new Corvette, and did a three-sixty in heavy traffic right in front of him. I jumped out, ripped the door off his truck, and caved in his face with one punch. The other guy in the cab, who had done nothing to me, jumps out and starts running down the divider to get away from me. I chased him on foot and was pounding the shit out of him on the side of the road when the cops pulled up in two cruisers. ‘Michalik, get outta here, ya crazy fuck,’ they go, ‘this is the last goddamn time we’re lettin’ you slide.’” .... The bad news, said the surgeon after a battery of X-rays, was that Michalik would never walk again. The good news was that with a couple of operations, the pain could be substantially mitigated. Michalik told him to get the fuck out of his room. For months he lay in traction, refusing medication, and with his free arm went on injecting himself with testosterone, which had with him in a black bag at the time of the accident, and which the hospital had so thoughtfully put on his bedside table.
Posted by gerardvanderleun at March 21, 2017 10:47 AM. This is an entry on the sideblog of American Digest: Check it out.
Your Say
Mental midget, physical freek.
Posted by: ghostsniper at March 21, 2017 2:55 PM
As may be seen in the photo, the side-effect is the terrible red rash that develops in the crotch and lower waist area.
Posted by: Howard Nelson at March 21, 2017 10:54 PM
Dead from a self inflicted gun shot wound in 2012.
I cannot begin to imagine the self loathing he had for himself, let alone the pain he suffered.
This is an eye opening account of a profession of which I had no knowledge. What a hideous endeavor.
Posted by: Derak at March 22, 2017 1:13 PM