Yesterday I reviewed ‘Dead Set‘ (2008), which is a zombie movie centered around the Big Brother house. It got me thinking how reality TV and ‘reality’ stars have changed over the last ten years, especially with the growth of YouTube and Instagram to name a few. But with the rise in people desperate to garner their 15minutes of fame, pushing the boundaries of what is socially acceptable, with visits to ‘suicide forests’ in Japan, dangerous stunts and poor behaviour, I began to wonder what would happen if someone went too far with a stunt and how their family and friends would react to that. In conjunction with my recent obsession with being buried alive (check out my Halloween story ‘The Bells‘ for more!), I wrote ‘Like Me Or Leave Me…’

 

Like Me Or Leave Me….

Dammit, my calf’s getting cramped. Where are they? I should be able to hear them by now. 

What the hell? I’ve been ringing the bell tied to my toe for AGES! Why aren’t they digging me up? Don’t they know who I am? I won’t put up with this. As soon as I’m out, I’ll fire the lot of them. Be lucky if I don’t murder the bastards for leaving me down here for so long. 

Ok, calm down. Breathe. Remember what my dad said said. Any time you’re stressed, take deep breathes. Swears it’s what kept him sane in board meetings. More like bored meetings. Haha sucker, working all his life to build a company with my mum. I make more money off my stunts than they do in a year. 

Not for the first time, I try and sit up, banging my head. Shit! Painful lights dance around my eyes and now my ankle has seized up. I try to roll onto my side and stretch to massage my ankle, but there’s not enough space as my feet bang against the silk fabric lining this damned wooden box. Shit! 

Right, this isn’t the first endurance stunt I’ve done. Standing on that pole in the middle of the park was hard, walking up the mountain during snow season in nothing but my boxers was tough and I nearly lost a toe, then there was that whole camping trip to the suicide, haunted woods place. I survived a night with the dead, I’ll survive this.

Thinking about my past stunts, I reach for my video camera. My fans on YouTube will love this and I need to get some shots of me inside the coffin. Hopefully, this will be a bigger hit than that time I hunted and killed the bear. Got a lot of reaction with that, including some death threats. Dickheads. Like I give a damn, as long as people keep logging on, liking my posts, I’ll keep doing what I do and making a shit ton of money as well. I’ve got enough stunts planned, keep my fans happy for years.

I flick on my phone, checking the time. Ok, I’ve been down here nearly thirty hours. Where the hell are they? They were supposed to dig me out after 12hours, earlier if they heard me ring the bell and I’ve been tugging the chord to the little bell above ground for HOURS. I’m going to ring the bastards. They need to get me out now. Shit, no signal. I try and move the phone higher as if moving it a few centimetres closer to the soil covering me will magically get me more bars. An uncomfortable knot forms in my stomach. Why aren’t they digging me out? Why aren’t they answering my ring? 

Hang on, there’s a message. I click the icon and an image of my parents fills the screen. What the hell?

My mum dabs her eyes as the video starts. My dad looks into the camera.

“Son, by the time you get this message, you’ll be underground, doing another one of your silly stunts. I know you think these things are clever and fun and all those clicks on your site mean something, but they don’t. Frankly, you’ve caused a lot of hurt and pain to your mother and me over the last few years, death threats from people upset about you killing that bear…”

“I mean, walking around in your pants. And then what you did to those bodies in the woods,” my mum interrupts, twisting her fingers.

My dad stiffens, “Yes, the bodies. You desecrated and mocked the dead in suicide woods. You’re not the little boy we raised. Now you’re intent on doing more and more horrific things to get attention. So, we’ve decided to leave you where you are. No ones coming for you, son.”

“It’s for the best, love. If we let you carry on, who knows what you’ll do next, and I can barely face the neighbours as it is. Your father and I love you, but you’ve gone too far. We’ll be sure to visit your grave in a few days, leave some flowers.” my mum grasps my father’s hand and they smile at each other before looking back to the camera.

“Goodbye, love.”

“Goodbye, son. We’re logging you off now.”

 

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