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The Suicide Plan

It was more than enough that at school I had to face those bullies who did
not like me because of my hearing challenge; and then at church it was always something or the other because I could not hear well to follow instructions in the teenager club that they kept. It was hurtful enough that I got called names like ‘deaf monkey’, and ‘stupid’, and ‘four-eyes’ and ‘baboon’ and the like. And then when I’m home I get called names like ‘stupid’, and ‘no-good-like yo’-father’ and have to face such horrible treatment. Yes, it was time to take myself off the face of this earth and get some rest finally where no one can hurt me anymore—and I did not care what anyone said or think.

I was going to kill myself and no one was going to stop me.  Inside, I was crying silently. I asked myself what I did to deserve such treatment. How can people be so cruel to one another without any remorse and think it was k? I had no answers in my little mind; I just knew that something was not right and so I wanted no part of this wicked world. Everywhere I turned I saw nothing but anger and hate. I felt as though I was the cause for all the troubles and problems others were facing. It was as if they were blaming me for their miserable existence and for some reason, I had to pay for whatever their malady is. ‘Take it out on Juliana’ was probably the sign on my fifteen-year-old forehead.

I planned my move carefully with deep resolve. I would wait until my mom went inside the bathroom and quickly sneak in her bedroom and remove the bottle of pills and then put them in my underwear along with the mentholated alcohol so that neither her or my siblings could see, then I would hide it in my clothing basket and when everyone was sleeping, I would get up in the middle of the night as if I am going to the bathroom, or try to drink everything before going to bed and then lay down and sleep … say goodbye to this wicked world.

 

That was not to be. Mom hardly moved from the living room that evening. So, I had to resign myself to facing another long day at school and praying for the time to fly so that I could get back home and accomplish my mission. I did think about buying my own bottle of pills. I knew, however, that none of the ‘drugs stores’ would sell me a bottle of pills—and besides, I needed something stronger than baby aspirin. I needed some real pain killers to go with the rubbing mentholated alcohol that I had chosen as my toxic drink.

It was worst that day in school. I must have still been wearing the “Pick on Juliana Today” sign or something because nothing seemed to go right. That day we had classroom detention and a group of children from one specific “house” or homeroom as it is called, were selected to tidy-up, and sweep the classroom. I stood with the remainder of the class outside on the corridors overlooking the walkway of the building while the selected group did the cleaning task. Since I did not like being idle, I promptly took a novel out of my book-bag and started reading. I did this even though reading during school hours was strictly prohibited. In my head however, instead of standing there wasting time with idle gossip, I could be reading my book. I became so engrossed in reading, that I lifted my head just in time to see bald Mr. Walters coming over the crossway, perhaps to find out why we were all standing outside of the classroom unsupervised.

00Quickly, I shouted for all to hear, “Put away all story books, ‘Bald-head Walters’ coming through!” Everyone took to calling him ‘Bald head Walters’ behind his back instead of referring to him by his name; so that afternoon, I followed suit. Bad mistake! I forgot that I did not have the same privileges as others did. As soon as Mr. Walters appeared and asked why we were standing there, a student who did not like me at all, took it on himself to tell Mr. Walters that I called him ‘bald head’.

Mr. Walters turned to me. “What did you say?” he said. For some strange reason, I blurted out—without missing a beat, “I told them to put away all story book, ‘Bald head Walters’ coming through...” Time seemed to stand still. You could have heard a pencil drop two floors below. Everyone was shocked; it was clear they were all surprised that I would actually repeat what I had said in front of Mr. Walters. Then everyone except Mr. Walters and I burst out laughing.

Mr. Walters was a very dark-skinned man; to see him turn red as the entire classroom burst out laughing was a sight to see. I guess he was upset that I dared to repeat what I had said about him— with a straight face. In reflex, he began to threaten all of us with detention. The entire class began to protest being in detention, and he relented. He told the children who had been tasked with cleaning the class to stop cleaning and come outside. Mr. Walters then turned to me. He told me that since I was disrespectful to him, I was now in detention and had to continue cleaning the class. This was a cause for more laughter now from the class, but this time I was on the receiving end.

 

 

I did not protest. I walked into the classroom, looked around, saw that the children hadn’t done much, and promptly walked out. I walked down the stairways and across the walkway and headed to the principal’s office. There was no way I was going to clean a classroom because I had the audacity to repeat something that was asked of me, something that everyone else kept saying behind Mr. Walters back—and more so, something I had to repeat because a classmate did not like me and wanted to see me get punished. Not this Juliana!—Not today!

When I got to the principal’s office, her secretary asked why I had come. I told her that I needed to see the principal to make a complaint about given detention because of something that was no fault of my own. The principal wasn’t there, and I was allowed to speak to the Deputy Principal. He was a kind soul; he listened to me as I explained what happened with a slight smile growing at the corner of his lips. I believe that he wanted to laugh so badly, but because I was so serious, I guess he held it in and listened with the correct amount of gravity. In the end, he told me not to worry, that he would accompany me back to the classroom and have it sorted out there.

You could see the shock on the other students’ faces when they saw me returning over the walkway with the Deputy Principal. Not surprising, the classmate who ‘ratted’ on me found it convenient to disappear. I could not be bothered. The Deputy Principal asked the class to recount exactly what happened and why the homeroom was in detention in the first place. Once he got the full story and realized that indeed I was telling the truth, he said that I was off of detention. He did ask for the student who started it all and was told that he had left to go to the bathroom. The deputy Principal then warned us all and cautioned us not to get more trouble and insisted that we stopped calling teachers by rude names. Afterwards, he turned, went back to his office, where I’m sure he had a good chuckle with the Principal’s secretary.

As for me, that only made things worst with the class, because the original students who had they thought they had gotten away from the cleaning, now had to return to complete the detention cleaning task. They weren’t too happy about it.

 

 

 

 

I just could not wait for that day to end. I was telling myself that if everything went well and my suicide plan worked, it would all end that night, and I won’t have to face anymore teasing or taunting in school. The school clock struck 3: pm, and I was first out of the school door. I made my way home as fast as I could—determined to get home before Mom did so that I could get those pills and the bottle of mentholated alcohol. Since I didn’t know if she would miss them, I had to find something to transfer the alcohol into so that I could drink to my death just before going to bed. Yes! I was going to drink those pills, wash them down with the alcohol, and then go to sleep, never to wake up again.

The bottle of pills and mentholated alcohol were in the medicine cabinet. Exactly where I hoped they would be. Tonight, was going to be the night where everything would end once and for all. I just had to ensure that I had enough pills so that if she checked the bottle for any reason, she would not find it empty. Then a thought came to me: if I mixed the pills with others that she had in the medicine cabinet, the dosage will be more lethal. Now all I needed was somewhere to hide them so that no one would notice and asks questions. It was going to be much harder to pour out the alcohol as I could not put it in a cup since it would ‘smell-up’ the house and everyone would want to know what was happening. I decided that I’d have to steal the smallest bottle of mentholated alcohol and hope that mom didn’t go in the cabinet tonight for any reason and miss it. If she did, I could always say I was using it to rub my feet or something.

Time seemed to drag by slowly as I waited for the perfect moment. It had to be tonight.

As I poured out the bills from the bottle in my hands, I only had one thought in mind, who really would miss me? But then thinking about all the things I have been through within the past two days; I came to the conclusion that perhaps I was just doing everyone a favor by removing myself form the equation and this earth as we know it. With an assorted of pills in my skirt pocket and the bottle of mentholated alcohol in the other, I carefully went into the room that I shared with my siblings and hid them in my clothing basket. Nightfall just needed to hurry up and come quickly.

I guess my mom knew something was amiss because when she came in. I was very quiet. I was so nervous that I could not even read a book and that was so unlike me. I just sat there watching TV while Mom did her regular nightly duties of preparing for the next day and resting her feet afterwards in her favorite chair.

 

As I sat there watching her, I was asking myself if she was really my mother or did they give her the wrong baby. Things just did not make any sense to me. She would speak to all my other siblings and asked them how their day was, but it was as though I was invisible. I was only noticed when I didn’t do something, or she wanted something done.

I had no regrets about what I was about to do. There was absolutely nothing more to live for and I was tired of crying silently inside and outside. I was tired of the pain, the heartache, everything. At 8 pm, I got up and changed my clothing and put on my night gown. On the pretext of going to bed, I said my goodnight and took out the pills from the bottle of mentholated alcohol. I did not even count how many pills there were, it was more than enough for me and besides I did not care to count the number, it did not matter anymore. I took the pills in my hands and quickly put them into my mouth. With two quick gulps from the bottle of mentholated alcohol, I swallowed them all. There was a burning sensation from the alcohol as everything went down my throat. I did not care. I was beginning to feel a bit nauseous, but I was happy inside. My duty was done. Mission accomplished. I turned into bed and laid my head on the pillow. “Good night wicked world,” was the last thing I remembered whispering and then I lost awareness of everything around me.

“Juliana! … Wake up! … You will be late for school.” The voice pierced my dark, black dreams. Then it came again louder: “WAKE UP, JULIANA! YOU WILL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!” Someone was shaking me—shaking me hard, and I stirred. At first I was dazed, I did not recall my surrounding or where I was, and then it hit me.

I was STILL alive.

How could that be? I was in such a shock; I could not even ‘mouth’ good morning to my sister who had shook me awake. Last night events came rushing right back and I just sat there on my bed speechless.

Why was I still alive?
 

Monday Motivation Daily Quotes

Intimacy takes time. Intimacy is the slow reveal by single parts, to reveal a bigger whole. It’s light and dark, it’s deep and real. It's allowing yourself to be vulnerable with someone to create a real connection.

.

.

 #intimacy #relationships #relationshipquotes #Love #lovequotes #loveandrelationship #someone #special #oneofakind #unique #theonlyone #quotes #follow4follow #followforfollow #SilentHearer

Keep going...You can think of that voice inside of your head as your body fearing change. That voice tries to convince you to stop, and that you’re in pain, difficulty, facing obstacles, disappointments and let downs simply because it knows that if you continue, you’ll change, you'll win, you'll overcome and accomplish that goal or dream. That’s why you should keep going!

-----

#goals #priorities #inspirationalquotes #upliftingquotes #lifesavers #inspiration #wordsofwisdom #dontgiveup #believe #motivationalquotes  #runnersofinstagram #running #dontstop #running #run #quotesoftheday #instaquotes #quotestoliveby #quotesdaily #quotestagram #quotesaboutlife #SilentHearer

Do your best to limit your interactions with negative people. Surround Yourself With Positive People. Protect your spirit always! Life is too short! Limit your time, or don't allow it to be spent around people that don't have your best interest at heart. Negative people try to belittle you and bring you down with criticisms and insults and saying nothing good about you. They love to point out what they think is wrong with everyone else. Beautiful things happen when you distance yourself from negative things and energy.

https://t.co/M6DttwdGL2

How to answer an unclear answer request

Read Marcia Shury's answer to How can I get the researches or studies or whatever I want? on Quora

Ready to reset your life? Try this

Read Marcia Shury's answer to How can I reset my life? on Quora

Have you ever accidentally made fun of an authority figure not knowing that he is behind you

Read Marcia Shury's answer to Have you ever accidentally made fun of an authority figure not knowing that he is behind you? on Quora

How can I end my life peacefully?

Read Marcia Shury's answer to How can I end my own life peacefully? on Quora

Should I Quit my Job?

Read Marcia Shury's answer to I got interviews from Facebook, Amazon, IBM, Verizon, Ford, 3M, Target, UHG, Thomson Reuters and some others. Should I quit my job and prepare? on Quora

Stop Hating Your Poems

Read Marcia Shury's answer to How do I stop hating my own poems? on Quora

How can I make my personality more impressive

Read Marcia Shury's answer to I am a working woman.How can I make my personality more impressive? on Quora

Just one of those days

I'm sitting here in relax mode brainstorming while the snow falls outside and it came to me that I should never ever feel guilty for taking some "me" for myself or let others make me feel guilty.  Life is too short to be working all the time, chasing dreams and not taking some time out of making yourself or others rich, for YOU!

All the best for the Season

Enjoy the Excerpt from my Upcoming Novel - A Silent Place to Stand

RECOGNIZING UNSUNG GUYANESE LITERARY TALENT
Presented and edited by Harold A. Bascom

(The intent of this new column is to showcase the writing of unrecognized and unsung writers in Guyana and from the Guyanese Diaspora. Today, I feature an excerpt from an upcoming novel by Ms. Marcia S. Shury. She is the author of the autobiography, ‘SILENT HEARER’. The following story is taken from her up-coming novel, ‘A Silent Place to Stand’.)

THE SUICIDE PLAN
By Marcia S. Shury

It was more than enough that at school I had to face those bullies who did 
not like me because of my hearing challenge; and then at church it was always something or the other because I could not hear well to follow instructions in the teenager club that they kept. It was hurtful enough that I got called names like ‘deaf monkey’, and ‘stupid’, and ‘four-eyes’ and ‘baboon’ and the like. And then when I’m home I get called names like ‘stupid’, and ‘no-good-like yo’-father’ and have to face such horrible treatment. … Yes it was time to take myself off the face of this earth and get some rest finally where no one can hurt me anymore—and I did not care what anyone said or think. 

I was going to kill myself and no one was going to stop me.
Inside, I was crying silently. I asked myself what I did to deserve such treatment. How can people be so cruel to one another without any remorse and think it was ok? I had no answers in my little mind; I just knew that something was not right and so I wanted no part of this wicked world. Everywhere I turned I saw nothing but anger and hate. I felt as though I was the cause for all the troubles and problems others were facing. It was as if they were blaming me for their miserable existence and for some reason I had to pay for whatever their malady is. ‘Take it out on Juliana’ was probably the sign on my fifteen-year-old forehead.

I planned my move carefully with deep resolve. I would wait until my mom went inside the bathroom and quickly sneak in her bedroom and remove the bottle of pills and then put them in my underwear along with the mentholated alcohol so that neither her or my siblings could see, then I would hide it in my clothing basket and when everyone was sleeping, I would get up in the middle of the night as if I am going to the bathroom, or try to drink everything before going to bed and then lay down and sleep … say goodbye to this wicked world.
That was not to be. Mom hardly moved from the living room that evening. So I had to resign myself to facing another long day at school and praying for the time to fly so that I could get back home and accomplish my mission. I did think about buying my own bottle of pills. I knew, however, that none of the ‘drugs stores’ would sell me a bottle of pills—and besides, I needed something stronger than baby aspirin. I needed some real pain killers to go with the rubbing mentholated alcohol that I had chosen as my toxic drink. 

It was worst that day in school. I must have still been wearing the “Pick on Juliana Today” sign or something because nothing seemed to go right. That day we had classroom detention and a group of children from one specific “house” or homeroom as it is called, were selected to tidy-up and sweep the classroom. I stood with the remainder of the class outside on the corridors overlooking the walkway of the building while the selected group did the cleaning task. Since I did not like being idle, I promptly took a novel out of my book-bag and started reading. I did this even though reading during school hours was strictly prohibited. In my head however, instead of standing there wasting time with idle gossip, I could be reading my book. I became so engrossed in reading, that I lifted my head just in time to see bald Mr. Walters coming over the crossway, perhaps to find out why we were all standing outside of the classroom unsupervised.

Quickly, I shouted for all to hear, “Put away all story books, ‘Bald-head Walters’ coming through!” Everyone took to calling him ‘Bald head Walters’ behind his back instead of referring to him by his name; so that afternoon, I followed suit. Bad mistake! I forgot that I did not have the same privileges as others did. As soon as Mr. Walters appeared and asked why we were standing there, a student who did not like me at all, took it on himself to tell Mr. Walters that I called him ‘bald head’. 

Mr. Walters turned to me. “What did you say?” he said. For some strange reason, I blurted out—without missing a beat, “I told them to put away all story book, ‘Bald head Walters’ coming through...” 

Time seemed to stand still. You could have heard a pencil drop two floors below. Everyone was shocked; it was clear they were all surprised that I would actually repeat what I had said in front of Mr. Walters. Then everyone except Mr. Walters and I burst out laughing.

Mr. Walters was a very dark-skinned man; to see him turn red as the entire classroom burst out laughing was a sight to see. I guess he was upset that I dared to repeat what I had said about him— with a straight face. In reflex, he began to threaten all of us with detention. The entire class began to protest being in detention, and he relented. He told the children who had been tasked with cleaning the class to stop cleaning and come outside. Mr. Walters then turned to me. He told me that since I was disrespectful to him, I was now in detention and had to continue cleaning the class. This was a cause for more laughter now from the class, but this time I was on the receiving end.

I did not protest. I walked into the classroom, looked around, saw that the children hadn’t done much, and promptly walked out. I walked down the stairways and across the walkway and headed to the Principal’s office. There was no way I was going to clean a classroom because I had the audacity to repeat something that was asked of me, something that everyone else kept saying behind Mr. Walters back—and more so, something I had to repeat because a classmate did not like me and wanted to see me get punished. Not this Juliana!—Not today!

When I got to the principal’s office, her secretary asked why I had come. I told her that I needed to see the Principal to make a complaint about given detention because of something that was no fault of my own. The Principal wasn’t there, and I was allowed to speak to the Deputy Principal. He was a kind soul; he listened to me as I explained what happened with a slight smile growing at the corner of his lips. I believe that he wanted to laugh so badly, but because I was so serious, I guess he held it in and listened with the correct amount of gravity. In the end, he told me not to worry, that he would accompany me back to the classroom and have it sorted out there. 

You could see the shock on the other students’ faces when they saw me returning over the walkway with the Deputy Principal. Not surprising, the classmate who ‘ratted’ on me found it convenient to disappear. I could not be bothered. The Deputy Principal asked the class to recount exactly what happened and why the homeroom was in detention in the first place. Once he got the full story and realized that indeed I was telling the truth, he said that I was off of detention. He did ask for the student who started it all and was told that he had left to go to the bathroom. The deputy Principal then warned us all and cautioned us not to get more trouble, and insisted that we stopped calling teachers by rude names. Afterwards, he turned, went back to his office, where, I’m sure he had a good chuckle with the Principal’s secretary.

As for me, that only made things worst with the class, because the original students who had they thought they had gotten away from the cleaning, now had to return to complete the detention cleaning task. They weren’t too happy about it. 

I just could not wait for that day to end. I was telling myself that if everything went well and my suicide plan worked, it would all end that night, and I won’t have to face anymore teasing or taunting in school. The school clock struck 3: pm, and I was first out of the school door. I made my way home as fast as I could—determined to get home before Mom did so that I could get those pills and the bottle of mentholated alcohol. Since I didn’t know if she would miss them, I had to find something to transfer the alcohol into so that I could drink to my death just before going to bed. Yes! I was going to drink those pills, wash them down with the alcohol, and then go to sleep, never to wake up again.

The bottle of pills and mentholated alcohol were in the medicine cabinet. Exactly where I hoped they would be. Tonight was going to be the night where everything would end once and for all. I just had to ensure that I had enough pills so that if she checked the bottle for any reason, she would not find it empty. Then a thought came to me: if I mixed the pills with others that she had in the medicine cabinet, the dosage will be more lethal. Now all I needed was somewhere to hide them so that no one would notice and asks questions. It was going to be much harder to pour out the alcohol as I could not put it in a cup since it would ‘smell-up’ the house and everyone would want to know what was happening. I decided that I’d have to steal the smallest bottle of mentholated alcohol and hope that mom didn’t go in the cabinet tonight for any reason and miss it. If she did, I could always say I was using it to rub my feet or something. 

Time seemed to drag by slowly as I waited for the perfect moment. It had to be tonight.

As I poured out the bills from the bottle in my hands, I only had one thought in mind, who really would miss me? But then thinking about all the things I have been through within the past two days, I came to the conclusion that perhaps I was just doing everyone a favor by removing myself form the equation and this earth as we know it. With an assorted of pills in my skirt pocket and the bottle of mentholated alcohol in the other, I carefully went into the room that I shared with my siblings and hid them in my clothing basket. Nightfall just needed to hurry up and come quickly.

I guess my mom knew something was amiss because when she came in. I was very quiet. I was so nervous that I could not even read a book and that was so unlike me. I just sat there watching TV while Mom did her regular nightly duties of preparing for the next day and resting her feet afterwards in her favorite chair. 

As I sat there watching her, I was asking myself if she was really my mother or did they give her the wrong baby. Things just did not make any sense to me. She would speak to all my other siblings and asked them how their day was, but it was as though I was invisible. I was only noticed when I didn’t do something or she wanted something done. 

I had no regrets about what I was about to do. There was absolutely nothing more to live for and I was tired of crying silently inside and outside. I was tired of the pain, the heartache, everything. At 8 pm, I got up and changed my clothing and put on my night gown. On the pretext of going to bed, I said my goodnight and took out the pills from the bottle of mentholated alcohol. I did not even count how many pills there were, it was more than enough for me and besides I did not care to count the number, it did not matter anymore. I took the pills in my hands and quickly put them into my mouth. With two quick gulps from the bottle of mentholated alcohol, I swallowed them all. There was a burning sensation from the alcohol as everything went down my throat. I did not care. I was beginning to feel a bit nauseous, but I was happy inside. My duty was done. Mission accomplished. I turned into bed and laid my head on the pillow. “Good night wicked world,” was the last thing I remembered whispering and then I lost awareness of everything around me.
“Juliana! … Wake up! … You will be late for school.” The voice pierced my dark, black dreams. Then it came again louder: “WAKE UP, JULIANA! YOU WILL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!” Someone was shaking me—shaking me hard, and I stirred. At first I was dazed, I did not recall my surrounding or where I was, and then it hit me. 

I was STILL alive. 

How could that be? I was in such a shock; I could not even ‘mouth’ good morning to my sister who had shook me awake. Last night events came rushing right back and I just sat there on my bed speechless.

Why was I still alive? 

THE END

A Novelist Book Review of Silent Hearer

 A review by Harold A. Bascom
Guyanese Novelist, Playwright, & Artist

SILENT HEARER by Ms. Marcia is a jewel; it is also, however, the promise of a priceless diamond. There’s a word that has been used to often in reviews, it has grown into a cliché: poignant. It means moving —emotional —touching —distressing …sad. And Ms. Shury’s journey fits that word: poignant …from that moment of her teacher’s suspicion that she had a hearing problem—through to the hard realization that it was so; and the vicissitudes of her life as a hearing impaired child, girl, and woman, can all be summed up into that one word: poignant. 

But it was a journey too short—much, much too short, complete with two-page chapters. I felt this book comprises the bound sketch-notes for a greater volume yet to come. One hundred and three pages could easily have been three times that amount. I feel this humble tome that comp[rtises of autobiographical notes that tease without fulfilling that desire to know more—to understand more—to flesh out more, hold the promise of a very strong and moving first novel to come.

Maybe Marcia Shury—like many young writers, was in a rush to publish. But there is time, my dear. As an experienced director of dramas, I read this book, and like watching a talented actress give just a fraction of her depth, I shouted in my mind, “CUT—CUT!”

And this is me sighing and saying to that actress. “Take your time… dig deeper—do not be afraid to flesh out everything…”

And to you, Marcia S. Shury, I say the same: “Take your time, and let’s do another take. ‘Silent Hearer’ is merely the seed of a literary promise. Do a rewrite—dig deeper—flesh out everything and everyone! Make it into an awesome tree—an oak huge and awesome. You can!” 

But small as this book is, ONE THING IS REQUIRED of you, dear, reader: READ IT!!!

Winning!

I don’t mind failing because that means I’m trying. But giving up, now that’s something that I’m just not willing to do. I will continue to try and try again. I will keep my peace, stay focused, and know that my time will come. My positive attitude will not depart me. I will hold it close and keep on striving, knowing that what’s meant for me, will be. Nothing and nobody can stop it! My dedication and hard work won’t fail me, but most importantly, I won’t fail myself. I’m a winner and I’m a fighter! I don’t allow challenges to stop me.

One of the Wiiners at Novel Festival

So much has been going on these last few days, where do I start. Ah the world of writing, book signings, book sales, book promotion and marketing...books, books, books.  

Everyone loves a great bestseller and a famous author, alas, I am not in those categories YET! Read that again, YET! I will get there slowly but surely, but before I do, let me enjoy my low key, life without having to worry about the paparazzi showing up at my door or camping out overnight to take my photos.

Let me enjoy the quiet of the neighborhood, and the thrill of being able to hop on the bus, the subway, hop into a friend car or just stroll leisurely down the sidewalks without being recognized and then swarmed for my autograph.  I know those days are coming - and you heard it here first - but until then, allow me to enjoy the simple pleasure of live.

So in parting, let me share with you an excerpt from my book Silent Hearer as actress Val Cole reads the first chapter chosen as one of the winners at the WildSound Novel Festival.  

If you have not gotten a copy fo the book yet, you are welcomed to grab a copy from the following places Amazon http://amzn.to/1OD2hc1 or here at Barnes and Noble http://bit.ly/1Q3XqRQ

Enjoy the video below...