Beat The Devil (Kindle Single)
Mishka Shubaly
Language: English
Pages: 73
ISBN: B00H2AC6GM
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
In "Beat the Devil," addict, alcoholic and bestselling Kindle Singles author Mishka Shubaly returns to battle his ultimate demon: his obsession with rock 'n' roll. Over three decades, his affliction has spawned immeasurable chaos and destruction (and, yes, maybe some debauched good times). While his rivals have graced the covers of Spin and Rolling Stone, Shubaly's projects have always flamed out in the eleventh hour. At 36, sober and stable, Shubaly is poised to finally achieve the rock 'n' roll glory he has lusted after for years... or walk away from his lifelong dream forever. Shubaly spares no gory detail in this autopsy of his wasted years and Beat The Devil is rife with anonymous sex, casual drug abuse and behind-the-scenes desperation borne out of chasing an unattainable dream. Everything that has endeared Shubaly to his readers is here: his resistance to common sense, his inability to accept defeat, his probing intellect, and his heart.
Mishka Shubaly is Amazon's most frequently published Kindle Singles author with a string of four bestsellers to his name. His first-hand account of a disaster at sea, “Shipwrecked,” rescued him from anonymity. “The Long Run,” a mini-memoir detailing Shubaly's transition from drunk-and-drugged gutter dweller to sober ultra-marathoner was a flyaway smash. He continued his hot streak with “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” an incredible-but-true tale of online love gone awry, and “Bachelor Number One,” which chronicled Shubaly's induction into the dark world of reality
TV.
Cover design by Adil Dara Kim
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Craptastic Uncomfortable Bed, I called it. With an old T-shirt bunched up for a pillow and a dirty towel for a blanket, it worked a number on my back. The only way to fall asleep on it was to lay flat on my back, a stack of unlabeled boxes looming over me ominously, and drink until I could drink no more. Can a train wreck go off the tracks? I worked three nights a week, seeing double by the time I counted the money at the end of each shift. I drank heroically on my days off, not leaving the
manipulation, the physical abuse. Jesus Christ. The hell she had endured put my banal white-boy blues bleakly in perspective. We drank for a long time that night. We hung out after band practice, drinking and snorting Dexedrine, DJing for each other in my room then, at the end of the night, waved awkward goodbyes. I had never met such a huge person in such a tiny body. She was not just the coolest girl I had ever met, but the coolest person I had ever met; she was the five coolest people I’d
to, like... comb his hair.” “Shilpa… you can’t like Arturo.” “He has dirty fingernails. I want to clean his fingernails.” Full of coke and whiskey, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I told her I felt like I was falling in love with her. She was angry and wounded. I was angry and wounded. Maybe I could put my pain and my crazy next to her pain and her crazy and they would cancel each other out? In a long life overflowing with stupid ideas and bad decisions, I don’t think a more idiotic thought
you were right. With the money I made from writing about my failures, I bought a little house for my mom in California, eight miles away from Tatyana and her husband Bill’s place. My entire family pitched in this summer to fix it up. I expect to spend the bulk of my time out there, no matter the season: working in Tatyana’s avocado orchard, riding my bike, annoying the dogs, throwing water balloons and wrestling with my big sister’s four horrible children. Being an uncle is the opposite of being
smelled good.” I smell good? The secret to finding love is smelling good? Apparently, my gift is to spend my life failing to notice the most obvious and most important stuff, even when it’s spelled out right in front of me. * * * “Beat the Devil” was not a phrase that spoke to me when I first heard it. Shilpa had gotten it from a 1953 John Huston film of the same name. It’s a film noir parody about a “motley crue of swindlers and ne’er-do-wells” trying to strike it rich whose ruthless
