My name is Mel Gibson, and this is my manifesto. Well, I guess it's more of an autobiography charged by political beliefs radicalised by my extensive use of drugs but at this point it's neither here nor there. By the time you are reading this I am probably either in prison or dead, but it is vital to the continuation of this country that you read this book in its entirety and then buy it for everyone you know.
There's no point looking me up either, I can guarantee you have never heard of me. If you do try you'll be scrolling through articles of an actor by the same name (A smart move on my part if I do say so myself (and I do)).
My story began a long long time ago, about the time that Britain decided to leave the EU. But, for the sake of keeping this draft shorter than the first, I'll pick up to where it actually gets interesting. It was January 2024, and I was admiring the picture I had just hung on my wall:
I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU
sent from my iPhone
It was an email from the manager of the B&Q I had gotten fired from about two weeks ago. I strongly doubt he was genuine, but since I am better at starting fights than fighting in them I decided to carry around a Glock which I had stolen from a backpack I had found in a burger king in Liverpool.
I never really understood the meaning of the phrase "Guns don't kill people", because they sure as fuck do. That's what they are for, right? That being said I had shot 5 people at the time and only one of them died due to complications brought about by me shooting them.
After admiring my handiwork, I checked my phone to find an unread message from one of my mates, Mark Wahlberg. That may not sound weird on its own, but this is a guy that refused to get a TV because he was afraid they would infect his mind with the "woke mind virus". That changed after he discovered the show friends and decided he was tough enough to resist psychic conditioning. That and porn.
'Bring me a 3.5. Got some weird shit going on.'
It was always weird shit with this guy, but if I had known what I was about to get myself into I probably would've turned that Glock on myself. That's a lie but you get my point.
'U gotta pay this time.'
'I will.'
Spoiler - He didn't.
The mini fridge in my garage was stocked full of all kinds of drugs (coke, meth, mdma, you get the gist) but there was a slight technical issue with getting them. You see, I have a special superpower that allows me to tap into my inner Che Guevara whenever I do cocaine and I had used these powers to protect my mini fridge from prying eyes. It wasn't until 2 days later that I realised I had just booby trapped my mini fridge and couldn't get it open.
And so, I decided that out of the goodness of my own heart that I would share that good shit I keep in a mason jar next to my bed with Mark. And then I saw it. A small, unassuming strip of LSD I had bought from some sketchy Romanian fella who's name I couldn't remember - sketchy in the sense that he sold drugs, mind you.
Fuck it. It's a 45 minute drive, might as well make it interesting.
And there it is. The single, unassuming thought that would transform me from a part time drug dealer into a domestic terrorist. I dropped a tab of LSD, stuffed a few buds into my pocket and hopped behind the wheel of my Vauxhall Astra.
The drive was as slow as you'd expect driving through London, and the wait for the LSD to kick in was starting to piss me off.
'I should be off my tits right now, but instead I'm sat next to some slow ass lizards.
Wait… lizards?'
That's right. Lizards. I did a double take at the car next to me. Two lizards bobbing their heads and blasting war pigs by Black Sabbath. We made eye contact, and I saw their vertical pupils constrict as they looked at me. I won't lie, I freaked out. Just a bit. I felt like an injured rabbit about to be torn to pieces by a gang of foxes. The light turned green, and we drove side by side for a while before they turned off onto another street.
I tried to calm myself down and remind myself that I had literally just taken LSD not even an hour ago, but I couldn't. The wheel became greasy under my sweaty palms. Maybe one in every ten people I saw was a lizard. Police car? Lizards. Family sat inside a Costa? Human mother, lizard father and lizard baby.
I practically sprinted up to Mark's house, hoping that whatever he was dealing with was better than lizard psychosis as I pounded on his door. I should've expected otherwise however, as when the door opened I saw a lizard sitting on his sofa with his throat slashed open, knife sticking out of it.
"Holy shit. That guy dead?"
"Yeah, Think so. Wanna check?"
I looked down at my white air forces.
"Not really. I'm having a really bad trip."
Mark's eyes widened slightly.
"Do you see a lizard?"
"Yeah. That why you kill him?"
"Yep. Been seeing these fuckers snooping about since I took that shit Gabriel gave me. Molly just saw him as a regular guy though."
I remember now. Gabriel. He was the sketchy Romanian I bought the LSD from. Though looking back on it he could've been Turkish.
"You killed him in front of your girlfriend?"
"No. She was in the shower at the time. We should probably leave though. Gotta find Gabriel."
I saw some rizzlas on his table next to the dead lizard man.
"Let's roll some joints first."