a night at the trough

Night at the Trough

I am not what you would call a normal person. Not anymore at least. The nights seem to blend together into one confusing blur. The days are an unbearable tedium. The only thing that holds me together is the knowledge that it will all be over soon.

Let me take you back a bit. Hopefully this will all make sense if I start from the beginning.

It was the evening of Halloween, 2016. I'd had to work late that day, so by the time I'd gotten home and put on my costume the party had already started. Being a typical procrastinator, I hadn't bothered to confirm the location of this Halloween party with my friends. All I was sure of was that my hair was suitably unkempt, my lab coat looked great, and the practice I'd put in to burping at will would surely pay off. My rick costume was gold. Grabbing my wallet, phone and keys, I took one last look in the mirror to make sure everything was in order before making my way out the door and towards the train station.

Having secured one of the benches lining the train station platform, I whipped out my phone and sent a text to my mate, Dave. "Oi lad, where's this party?"  He and I had agreed to dress as the cartoon duo, Rick and Morty. We were both of above average intelligence, so the high-brow intellectual humor of the show really appealed to us. I'd heard something about a slab of beer going to the best costume at this party, and we were sure to win.

A few minutes passed and a train headed to central station pulled up to the platform. I hopped up off my bench, knowing that wherever this party may be,Sydney's central hub of public transport would have a way of getting me there. The train was crowded but I was able to find a seat across from a couple on their way to their own Halloween party. The girl was a uh... thicc aboriginal sheila dressed up like Princess Elsa from that frozen movie. I fought the urge to twist up my face in disgust, remembering that it was 2016 and that all women were beautiful. I couldn't allow bigotry to fester in my thoughts. Instead I smiled at her. Her boyfriend... I assume it was her boyfriend, was wearing a long hooded robe that obscured his face in shadow. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching me for some reason, but without seeing his face it was impossible to confirm.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. A text message bearing only an address that my phone had hyperlinked. This would be the address for the party venue. Tapping the link, my phone's map application opened and showed me the route to the venue. After arriving at central station, I'd hop on a bus, then walk a short distance and I'd be there. I had a good feeling about that night, and not even my phone's news application informing me that six terrorist attacks had just occurred simultaneously in europe could dampen my spirits. Opening twitter I fired off six #prayfor [location] tweets, and opened up candy crush, secure in the knowledge that I'd done my part in the battle against far right backlash.

Before long the train arrived at central station and I made my way to the appropriate bus stop. The hooded figure from the train had followed me to the same bus stop, the aboriginal elsa nowhere to be seen. I guess they weren't a couple.

A bus arrived, headed towards king's cross, party central. I hopped on along with the hooded figure and everyone else waiting at the bus stop. The bus was crowded, and I noted that there were an additional four people wearing hooded robed that obscured their faces. Weird, I thought. I guessed that they were going to the same place as some sort of group costume. They weren't sitting together on the bus like you'd expect though... Whatever, when Dave and I teamed up, our Rick and Morty duo would kick the shit out of whatever cult theme they were going with.

The bus arrived at my stop and I made my way out to the street and checked my phone's GPS. Just a short walk now. Looking up I noted that the group of hooded figures were walking ahead of me, along the route that would lead to the party. They had also added two to their number, now totaling six hooded figures. I followed them and maintained my distance as we appeared to be headed to the same place. Turning down a dark alley way I saw that the group had stopped about 20 meters ahead and were queuing at the entrance to a bar. Staying put, I checked my phone's GPS and confirmed that this was the place. I'd gotten a weird vibe from that group, so I stood at the entrance to the alleyway and sparked up a durrie as they made their way inside. Once they had all moved inside the venue, I tossed the half smoked dougan and made my way towards the entrance. There was a tacky neon sign above the door that read "The Trough" It seemed kind of seedy, but in a cool way. Making my way to the bouncer, I saw a sign next to the door that read "Entry $10" Shit, there was a cover charge. I looked apologetically to the bouncer, "Sorry bro, I don't have any cash on me. Is there an ATM nearby?"

"Don't worry mate, for you entry is free."

Well holy shit. I knew my costume was good, but I didn't think it was this good.

With excitement rising inside me, I made my way past the bouncer and descended a long stairway deep into the guts of this brick and mortar monster known as The Trough. At the bottom of the stairs I was met with a heavy set of doors, behind which I could hear the muffled beat of electronic trance music. Pushing through the doors, I was engulfed by the overwhelmingly loud music as the spectacle of The Trough played out before me. It was a large basement room, most of which was being used as a dance floor. Up the back, elevated above the pulsing crowd was the DJ stage, lined with audio equipment and gigantic speakers which pumped a rhythmic "Unce unce unce unce" into the room. A robed figure, his hood pulled back to reveal bright blue dreadlocks manned the decks, conducting his electronic orchestra. Off to the side of the room was a bar, and lining the walls were tall tables, with robed figures standing around them enjoying beverages.

Absolute terror gripped me, and the urge to flee was almost overwhelming. Everyone was dressed in the same dark robes, and here I was, the only one who hadn't gotten the memo that this party had a theme. All of the work I put into my Rick costume, now just made me look like an absolute idiot. Just as I was about to sneak back through the doors and leave before anyone could see my shame, and hand gripped my shoulder.

I turned to see a robed man, his hood pulled back revealing a friendly face, with a head shaven bald and large gauges in each ear-lobe. "Hey bro," He said, "Glad you could make it! Oh man, that's a sweet Rick costume. I love that show man. With me I'm either riding my carbon fiber bicycle, or watching Rick and Morty."

"Hey, thanks," I replied "Though it looks like I should have gotten a robe or something. I stand out like a sore thumb."

"Oh don't worry about that, bro. You should go get a drink from the bar, but first, put this on, it'll get you free drinks."

He handed me a bright yellow wrist band, which I awkwardly put on. "Thanks dude, hey have you seen my mate Dave here? He should be wearing a Morty costume."

He replied "I don't know man, I haven't seen him..."

I looked around the crowded space, there must have been over 300 people packed into this underground bar, finding dave would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

"Well, thanks for the wristband, uh..."

"Alex."

"Right, thanks Alex. I'll talk to you later."

He nodded, and then made his way into the sea of writhing bodies on the dance floor. Nice guy.

It was then that I felt a drop of some liquid hit me forehead. I recoiled and looked up, the ceiling was coated in a film of perspiration. All of the sweat pouring off of the revelers on the dance floor had nowhere to go but up, and had been trapped by the ceiling, only to rain back down on the party. I figured I'd better get some drinks in me quick, so as to not be bothered by such things.

Making my way through the crowd towards the bar, I was constantly receiving warm welcomes and pats on the back from the other party-goers. "Hey good to see you, man!" "Sweet Rick costume, dude." "Haha, pickle rick, haha." I felt like some kind of celebrity, the robes had made me uneasy at first, but these guys were so welcoming. I was getting high-fives left and right, and by the time I had made it to the bar, I felt like the coolest guy in the room. My ego was fanned even more, when I approached the back of the queue, and one by one the people ahead of me turned, and ushered me forward to the bar. Just like that I was first in line, and the bar-man approached.

"Sweet costume, mate. What can I get you?"

Surveying the beer taps lining the bar, I made my choice. "I'll have a VB, thanks." and flashed my bright yellow wristband. Upon seeing it, the bar-man's face brightened.

"You don't want that crap. Hold on a second." He turned towards the back of the bar, and began filling a pint glass from a solitary beer-tap. The liquid was golden yellow, and almost seemed to glow. He returned and placed the glass on the bar. "This is our in-house specialty. Trough golden lager. Just for you, friend."

I took the glass, thanked the bar-man, and drank. The flavors were complex, a divine combination of hops and malt, with something in there I couldn't put my finger on. Before I knew it I'd downed the entire pint and was greedily gasping for air.

"That's a fucking great beer" I exclaimed to the bar-man, who was staring at me, nodding his head. He took the spent pint glass and handed me another that he had poured while I was drinking the first. I said my thanks, and took the fresh beer to a nearby table, as the bar-man turned his attention to another customer. Setting the beer down, I pulled out my phone and gave Dave a ring. Just as he picked up the call, the DJ cranked the volume, and the beat from the massive speakers almost completely drowned out the speaker on my phone. I could just barely hear dave on the other end of the call, "Where the fuck are you, dude?"

I plugged one ear and pressed the phone to the other. I yelled "Oi I'm just near the bar, lad. Come to the bar!"

Dave responded, I could hear his voice through the tiny phone speaker, but I couldn't make out any words over the thunderous baseline filling the room.

I yelled into the phone "Oi I can't hear you lad, just come to the bar!"

I pressed my ear harder into the phone, and heard a rhythmic beeping, indicating that the call had ended. I took a sip of the Trough golden lager, and before I knew it I was greedily gulping the stuff down. I stopped myself, having drained half a pint. This stuff was seriously good, and already I was starting to feel a bit of a buzz. I wondered if they had any of this golden lager bottled that I could take home after the party.

I decided to send dave a text, "Come to the bar" just in case he hadn't heard me during the call. It was then that three guys in robes approached the table I was standing at. One carried a jug of the glowing golden lager, the other two carrying glasses of what looked like regular beer, as it didn't have the same luminescent quality as the golden lager. They waved hello, and I did the same. The constant pulsing beat was loud to the point that verbal communication was pretty much ruled out. The one with the jug topped up my glass, and gestured that I should drink. Without even thinking, as if I was hypnotized I obeyed, and downed the whole glass, slamming it back on the table, out of breath. He proceeded to fill the glass again. I did my best to yell over the music "Oi are there any sheilas here?" to which the three figures looked incredulously at each other, shrugging their shoulders as if they hadn't understood the question.

Again I downed the freshly filled glass in one go. God that beer was amazing. I'd had a lot of craft beers in my time, but nothing had ever compared to that golden ambrosia. Again and again, they filled my glass, and I sucked it all down, unable to control myself. Before long, the jug was empty, and the three abandoned the table, melding back into the crowd of robed bodies.

I put my elbow on the table, placing my weight on it to recline, but ended up slipping and falling to the floor. It was then that I realized how plastered I had become. For some reason, that beer had completely eroded my self control, and I had gotten absolutely shitfaced in the half an hour I had spent at this party. Collecting myself, and getting back on my feet, I looked longingly to the dance floor. It resembled that zion rave scene from one of the matrix movies. A writhing mass of sweaty bodies all bouncing up and down to the pulsing trance soundtrack. I was just about to join the hedonistic melee, when my bladder informed me that it was well past time to break the seal.

I desperately scanned the area for a bathroom, pulse racing as my pelvis ached from the pressure. There, against the far wall was a neon sign reading "Toilet"

I hurriedly pushed my way through the sea of robed figures towards the sign, and noted that there was only one bathroom with a "Men's room" sign on the door. I didn't have time to ponder on this though, and pushed my way through the door into the room. The bathroom was extremely grimy. Against one wall was a single sink, and a dirty mirror with phone numbers and other graffiti scrawled all over it in thick marker ink. There was a single cubicle opposite the sink, and one very large trough. The trough was oddly sized I thought, large enough that a person could lay down in it if they wanted. It was a strange thought and I shook it from my head. With the bathroom to myself, and the music from the main room dampened by the door, I relaxed somewhat and approached the trough to relieve my aching bladder. I unzipped my dick, and euphoria washed over me as I emptied myself, I even began to feel lightheaded. That's when I started to hear it. Buried underneath the muffled trance music, and the sound of my stream pounding the metal trough, I could hear someone whispering. I looked around, unable to pinpoint where it was coming from.

I focused my concentration, trying to decipher what was being whispered, but to no avail. Eventually the my stream weakened, and ended. I zipped myself back up and washed my hands at the grimy sink, careful to make as little contact as possible with the grotty faucet. The whispering continued, and my curiosity lead me to locate where it was coming from. As I paced around the bathroom, it grew louder and louder, until I found the source. The trough. The whispering was coming from the trough, specifically the drain at one end of the trough. Against my better judgement, I leaned down, closer and closer to better hear the whispering. It was as if I was being beckoned towards the drain. With my head almost entirely in the trough, I could just barely make out what was being whispered. Something about "rubbies and cummies" I wasn't sure if this was even english, or perhaps some long forgotten arcane language.

I strained to hear what the drain was whispering to me through the haze of inebriation, as if I was under some kind of spell, and gradually, my vision blackened until I was swimming in a warm sea of darkness.

I must have passed out in there, for what followed could only have been a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. Or so I thought.

Time became incomprehensible to me. My consciousness faded back, and I found myself on my back, looking up at the bathroom ceiling, a lone robed figure staring down at me. I tried to move, tried to speak, but I was paralyzed. The figured pulled up his robe to reveal that he was naked underneath. Fear shot through me, as the figure began to urinate on me, the warm liquid soaking through my costume. It was all to much. The haze descended on me and once again I was consumed by endless black. I spent what seemed like days in that darkness, when I was once again brought back to the world by the sensation of warm liquid hitting my face. My vision returned to me, and I saw that I was being dowsed by a group of four robed men. I coughed and sputtered as one urinated on my face. This went on for a minute, but seemed like an eternity as I was powerless to resist, and then they turned and left, and I descended once again into the dark haze.

Over and over, I'd black out, only to be yanked back to consciousness as larger crowds would gather to piss on me. Eventually they moved the DJ equipment into the bathroom, the dance floor only a few feet away from me, as robed figures took turns pissing on me while techno music bounced off the tiled walls around me.

Over and over, this nightmare continued until... I awoke in my bed, thirsty and hungover with a splitting headache. A nightmare, I thought. It must have been some awful nightmare...

I checked my phone to see a stack of missed calls and text messages from Dave.

Party is at Lisa's house.

Where the fuck are you?

Nobody gets my costume I need you man.

Answer your phone.

And so on.

I got up and made myself a cup of coffee, desperate to shake the pounding headache I'd earned. The clock in my kitchen showed that it was already 1pm. Thank god I didn't have work that day. I sat at my kitchen table and sipped on my coffee, trying to recount the events of the previous night, but like attempting to recall a dream, all I was left with was a hazy impression, no concrete details. I shuddered, and swore to drink less in the future.

As the days wore on, I found myself having the same dream over and over. A grotty bathroom, dark figures standing over me, and my hand reaching out, touching warm golden streams. I'd wake up each morning gasping for breath, soaked in sweat, terrified by some nightmare I couldn't recall.

Every night the same dream.

Eventually I started to smell like piss. I'd wake up drenched in what I could no longer call sweat, and shower obsessively to try and cleanse myself of the piss stench, to no avail. I'd go through my day, work, get home, eat dinner, go to bed, wake up drenched in piss. It wasn't long before the smell caused me to lose my job, and my friends stopped hanging out with me. I couldn't blame them, the smell was unbearable, and no matter what I tried I couldn't get rid of it.

It's been a year now, I've been living off my savings and government welfare. My life has become a blur of watching intellectual cartoons during the day, and suffering through piss themed visions through the night. I don't go out anymore. At least, not when I'm awake. I'd resigned myself, accepted that this was my life now. I'd even attempted suicide a couple of times, seeking to escape this waking nightmare, but the other day I received a package in the mail. Contained within was a familiar black robe, and an invitation which read:

A Night at the Trough. Halloween / Conversion party.

8pm October 31st

Location: The Trough

Dear [name redacted], we thank you for your year of service.
We wish to invite you to attend our annual trough party as our guest of honor, that you may pass on the torch to the next trough-man.
We ask that you arrive two hours early, wearing the enclosed sacred robe, so that we may teach you the ancient words and rituals.

E Pluribus Trough.

It's Halloween now, 2017. Once again, I have returned to the trough. I arrived early, wearing the sacred robe as was requested. They taught me the words, and now I sit in the secret room, below the men's toilet, waiting for the chosen one to arrive. I should feel ashamed. I should feel guilty about passing this curse on to some unsuspecting victim, but honestly I just want this all to be over. To escape this nightmare and return to a normal life.

I sit and repeat the words to myself. Soon it will be over. Soon I will be free.

I don't know who the chosen one will be this year.

He could be anyone.

He could be... you.