©2019 by Ballistic (In)Sides. 

Pt.1-How to Sell Meth

KFC, Mullets & Rock Hard Quadriceps

There’s nothing quite like taking a shit at Zagames. It might be the silent sob of the formworker as his slides his last $2 into the slot machine, the stench of the vomit green carpet that hasn't been cleaned in 20 years, or the atmospheric mood change at 6:00pm when the bar drops pot prices to $2. Yep, there's something to taking at shit at Zagames - and I had an epiphany in that small cubicle.

"I had an epiphany taking a shit at Zagames"


Sitting there, feeling the cold touch of the plastic on my thighs - the Song "Baby Blue" by Badfinger comes on over the speakers. I'm reminded of the closing scene of Breaking Bad and the plight of Walter White. Walt, a man who at the ripe age of 50, decides to flip his proverbial script and become a meth king pin. A man who throws away his career, wife and children in the name of that sweet, sweet Shepparton sugar. As I’m sitting there, I think, if a middle age school teacher can plunge head first into a meth empire at a whim, how might I be able to I flip the Tim Tams life gave me? How might I be able to give those tams a quick dunk into a glass of Pauls low fat milk, changing the consistency forever?

 

​(Pictured: Reservoir Zagames)

What  do we expect a young man to do when he’s jerked from an existential slumber in the cubicles of Zagames? When like Season 1 Walt, he realises his whole career, persona and attitudes are about to come to a halt? When for the first time, he realises that his life as a teacher has just ended and he should have been working on his meth empire this whole time.

“I should have been selling meth this whole time”

Unlike Walt, my pillars of meaning were away from the clutches of the Ben Cousins bicarb. But like Walt, I’ve decided to plunge head first into a murderous rage in pursuit of something. A rage that will no doubt light up the whole of Eastern Albuquerque, leaving me estranged from society with no wife or children and possibly some form of terminal lung cancer.

My own personal meth empire is to be built on achieving three objectives: 

  1. Eating the entire KFC Menu

  2. Having aggressively large quadriceps

  3. Growing the rudest mullet this side of Northern Seaboard (see timelines below)

The break down

  1. Eat the entire KFC menu

​​

If​​ Mr. Sanders is a colonel, then you’re looking at first his lieutenant.

You think this will be easy?  You’ve seen supersize me. Imagine Morgan Spurlock replacing a measly cheeseburger with an enormous zinger stacker combo. This one involves eating every item, hidden or otherwise, from the colonel’s range. I wont rest until every combo has been ticked off. I’m coming for all types of diabetes at full steam.

Plant

 2 Rock hard Quadriceps

The quad is the modern day 6 pack. And the risks here? Enormous. Consider a situation in which you're unable to wear shorts because your quads burst at the seams when you step. Imaging being forced to stay on ground level, because you're unable to walk upstairs 7 days a week. Imagine being shunned by upper body tyrants at the gym, because you're in the rack again. Yeah, this one completely fucked.

Grow

 3. Procure a disgraceful mullet

I don't really need to speak on this too much. The risks are obvious? (time spent shampooing, fired from work, increased dandruff - etc). 

Harvest

 

​I'll see you in the ER or some sort of mental health counselling.