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Tickets to My Downfall

by Jeff

Rated: 18+ · Book · Other · #2357862

A collection of short stories inspired by the mgk album of the same name.

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#1117289 added June 7, 2026 at 6:58pm
Restrictions: None

drunk face

Lyrics ▶︎

Henry moved through the gathered partygoers with an effortless grace. Youthful and handsome, he had the practiced ease of someone at home with high-end parties where alcohol flowed, drugs were readily available, and attractive people looked to entertain themselves with other attractive people. And at the center of it all, was Henry.

He briefly disentangled himself from the pair of socialites who were currently occupying his attention, and left them to snort lines of cocaine off the coffee table as he moved to the penthouse bar to order himself another drink.

At the bar, he noticed a woman out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t because she was stunning, although she was; it was because she was dressed more conservatively than the other partygoing women here, and she was reading a book. It was almost as if she had no interest in the hedonistic pleasures that Henry had presented for everybody.

Henry thought about just taking his cocktail back to the ladies who were waiting for him, but something about this woman kept drawing his attention and he approached her.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Henry said, lighting up his highest-megawatt smile and really turning on the charm.

“We haven’t,” she said mildly.

“I would have certainly remembered you if we did,” Henry said confidently.

“Chiara,” the woman said, extending a hand in his direction without looking up from her book.

Henry noted that she was reading The Crisis Caravan: What’s Wrong with Humanitarian Relief by Linda Polman.

“Some light reading?”

“Important reading.”

“If you say so,” he scoffed.

She looked up from her book and made eye contact for the first time. He was momentarily taken aback by their depth and intelligence. There was even a bit of a mischievous glint in them as she said, “We can’t all afford to while away our hours on frivolous parties.”

“A strange comment from someone attending one of my parties,” Henry retorted. “And who has no idea how many hours I have to while away.”

“Oh, I have some idea,” she mused. “I’m just surprised that you’re still entertained by parties and other foolishness after ... how long has it been ... a hundred years? Hundred and fifty?”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Henry stared at her, mouth agape.

“Oh, don’t stare at me like that,” Chiara said mirthfully. “You didn’t think you were the only one with a supernaturally long lifespan, did you?”

“Well, I mean ... yeah, kinda!” Henry exclaimed.

“Well, you’re not,” Chiara replied. “In fact, for some of us, you’re quite young. Born in the 20th Century, were you?”

“19th,” said Henry proudly.

“Aww, you’re just a baby!” Chiara grinned. “I had gotten my hedonistic phase out of my system before this charming little country of yours signed their Declaration of Independence!”

Henry was speechless.

“That explains all of ... this,” Chiara said, indicating the excesses around them. “We all go through it at some point. The feeling that, since we’re going to live forever, we might as well live it up and do all the things that would probably kill a mortal. But sooner or later each of us realizes that eternity is a very long time to spend when you’re living day-to-day for the pleasures of the moment. Well, most of us figure that out at least.”

She looked past Henry to the door, smiled, and then stood up and gathered her things.

“Eternity can be a lonely experience when you’re just living in the moment,” Chiara told him. “My advice to you would be to figure out what you’re passionate about ... some cause or endeavor ... and use the copious amounts of time you’ve been gifted to make this world you’re condemned to live in forever a somewhat better place to exist in.”

Henry was completely flummoxed, but managed to string together enough of a coherent sentence to ask her, “And ... but ... what are you doing to do that?”

Chiara smiled at him.

“Meeting a particularly wealthy gentleman who might be able to bankroll my nonprofit and its humanitarian endeavors around the world. Hence why I’m here at your party.”

She started toward the man who had just entered the penthouse suite but then turned back and faced Henry again. She reached into her bag and offered him a business card.

“If you ever get tired of the parties and the women and the self-destructive tendencies, give me a call.”

And with that, Chiara made her way across the room to meet with her contact and Henry, with a fresh drink in hand, turned back to his two dates for the evening, and the drugs spread out on the coffee table in front of them. And, for the first time, he thought about what an eternal life might be like that was dedicated to more than just his own pleasures.

He took another sip of his drink and saw the inviting looks the two women were giving him. He thought back to what Chiara had said and told himself that there would be plenty of time for growing up and saving the world later. For now, he was just going to spend a bit more time enjoying this life of pleasure and individual pursuit he had built for himself.

After all, he still had a whole eternity left.

Word Count: 888

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