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Essence of Urushiol

Boy have we got a treat for you! Got a special someone in your life that deserves an extra serving of malice? Introducing Essence of Urushiol, the perfect way to get revenge on someone in the cruellest way possible. Essence of Urushiol is squeezed from fresh poison ivy, grown on acres of federally preserved land. It is the perfect refinement of the same oils found in poison ivy, poison oak and poison sumac that cause the itchy rash we all know and despise. This rash this product causes is not a mere poison ivy rash, however. This product causes swelling and pussing to such a degree that doctors have been known to amputate limbs to rid patients of it. It has been known to cause anaphylactic shock, cardiac arrest, even suicide. What makes this product so effective is the itching that starts within minutes of exposure. It becomes so intense that people have been known to go mad from it, injured themselves scratching, gone on rampages that left dozens of innocents wounded and dying, even go so far as mainlining calamine lotion. Then the bumpy rash pops up. This makes a normal poison ivy rash look like a mosquito bite. Infected tissues swell to such a degree with blood and puss that the slightest scratching can rip the skin, leaving it open to infection. Gangrene has been reported as a common side affect in people that survive. We use that last qualifier there because some (roughly 80%) individuals exposed to Essence of Urushiol end up jumping into oncoming traffic to escape the discomfort.

Essence of Urushiol comes in a 14 gram vial with a small syringe for application to something that will come in close contact with your target. Suggested items may include clothing, pens, keyboards, chewing gum, tampons, door knobs, contact lenses, or even pets. Within minutes of exposure to this, they will begin feeling the effects. You can be as far away as you'd like by the time they finally expose themselves to it (but where's the fun in that?). Essence of Urushiol will remain on any surface for up to 6 months and still be active. Simple soaps will not wash this off. Moisturizing soaps will actually lock it into the skin. Blablabla, etc etc etc.


There was more to it, but I can't remember how it all went. The New Yorker ran this ad, which I'd written, back in early September of 2007. By January of 2008, I had already received several subpoenas to testify for people who had tried the product with illegal and disastrous ends. I attended more court cases than a toilet seat. I answered the same questions repeatedly at each. No, I didn't invent Essence of Urushiol. No, I've never used it. No, I cannot hop on one foot whilst touching the tip of my nose, Officer (but I can hop on my nose whilst touching both of my feet). Yes, Phil Collins was better with Genesis. I just wrote the ad. The only info I was given on it was a half page data sheet I could barely make heads or tails of. It was actually supposed to be a product for research labs only. Did I embellish a little? Maybe. Did I make stuff up randomly and without provocation? You bet your sweet ass I did. Would I do it again? For a nickel a word.

What really upset me over the whole ordeal is how The New Yorker dealt with the whole thing in the summer of 2010. The heat was on them, some of the blame had been laid on them (by myself). They sent out teams of men to cut my ad out of old back issues, copies that had been sitting in bathrooms, on coffee tables, tucked away surreptitiously under mattresses. They went into people's homes and did this. They invaded public libraries and destroyed many a microfiche of archived magazines. That wasn't enough though. They were just getting started. I guess I irked them by blaming them in the case, saying I'd just written an ad, they were the publishers of it. They wanted to really punish me for this. I could only guess how they managed it and I'd probably be way off the mark, even if I did.

They began by removing me from their own databases. Everything from my application to my disciplinary actions to my payroll records, they removed all of them. Then they must have had government help. They erased every record of me. My birth certificate, my social security record, my credit history, my police record; all of them are just gone now. I personally don't mind about the police record. If I'd gotten one more charge for sexually assaulting a police officer, I'd have been going away for a very long time.

I don't exist now. I can't use banks, credit cards, mirrors, public libraries. I can't get any sort of ID legally. The idea of a fake one seemed like a good idea, so I sent my money to a guy in Italy and got a license with my photo, my name, my old SSN. It had the holograms and everything, looked extremely legit. But he made the ID number 8675309 on all the ones he sold, so some pimple faced kid at Sunoco noticed that, took my license and called the cops when I told him I was going to rape him on a bed of nails after I was done with his AIDS victim father if he didn't give it back. Don't mess with my license, seriously. I don't grab things you keep in your pants do I?

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