Keanu Reeves and the Weirdtrix

Keanu Reeves Told Me To Write About Him

The other day I was having some drinks with my friend Keanu Reeves, it had been some time since the last time we had seen each other and we had to catch up.

At some point, I told him about how I had started writing in Medium, and how difficult it was to catch people’s attention, and also, how difficult it was, some days, to create original content for my stories.

Then, Keanu gave me the obvious answer.

“Write about me," he said. “Everyone loves a story where some famous name appears, and everyone knows my name".

“But that would be cheating,” I said, “There are already a ton of bad stories on Medium that use famous names just to get undeserved reads"

“It is not cheating if you deliver something valuable, like a story about me and some absurd ending, now excuse me, my planet needs me.”

And having said that, he began levitating and disappeared into the sky.

“Hey, normal people don’t fly, not even Keanu,” I said moments before regaining my consciousness.

“I HAVE BEEN IN THE MATRIX," I yelled when I came back.

“No, you have been three days in a coma after slamming your head against the wall yelling that you needed new ideas to write. Jesus, I had never seen a writer so desperate for creativity" said some hot doctor who looked like Claudia Schiffer when she was young.

“I don’t care, bring me my laptop, woman, I must write about Keanu.”

Keanu Reeves Helped Me Get Out of The Hospital

Those were dark days.

I was interned at the Hospital while they checked my head for injuries. The doctors said that apparently, I was perfectly okay, but they would need to run some more scans, because, they said, resisting so many hits was not normal either.

In the meantime, I had made a friendship with one of the nurses who was about my age — 30 years old here. Her name was Audrey; she was skinny and very smart; she spoke five languages, but above all, was a good listener.

I talked endlessly to her about my incident smashing my head into the wall out of desperation to come with new ideas, and she usually knew exactly what to say.

“It is okay to not have anything good to say sometimes, you the writers have been forced by The Media to come with ideas endlessly, but you’re not machines, not even you with the metal plate they had to put in your head.” She once told me.

And I felt she was telling the truth, I had been trying to write too much lately, so I decided to rest a bit for a few days, let my brain cool down.

And so, the days passed by, and I felt better, saner — I had a lot of weird dreams about spoons though. And the extensive talks with Audrey helped me a lot, She had become a good friend.

Then one day, while I was watching Greta Thunberg playing a brutal guitar solo with her Green Metal band on TV, Ms. Schiffer came in, you know, I introduced her at the end of the last part, but to be honest, back then I was high on sedatives and I didn’t see her well. Actually, Ms. Schiffer looked more like Lindsay Lohan after a DUI.

She brought my laptop with her.

“Mr. Miana, it’s time to start typing again, you have a lot of work to do,” She told me.

“Okay, but after the show, I don’t feel like writing yet. I’m recovering.”

She did not look amused.

“Mr. Miana, IT’S IMPERATIVE THAT YOU CONTINUE WRITING IMMEDIATELY.”

“Okay, immediately after Greta’s concert.”

The Schiffer then grabbed my arm. It felt like an eagle’s talon around it and pulled me closer. I could see a giant reptile eye on her forehead, but I did not remember it being there before. Could it be real? Or maybe I was having an attack because of my injuries?

“YOU’RE GOING TO WRITE NOW, OR ELSE I’LL CONSUME YOU RIGHT HERE.”

Definitely, something was going on with my head.

“What did you say?”

“WRITE NOW.”

“No, the other thing”

“CONSUME YOU?”

“Yes.”

“CREATIVE PURPOS — “

Right then, the door exploded and Keanu appeared between the cloud of dust that formed afterward. The Schiffer laid unconscious on the floor, and she looked human now.

“Come with me if you want to live,” Keanu said.

“Shit! You have killed Lindsay Lohan!” I remember yelling.

“That’s not Lindsay Lohan, for starters, it’s not even human. Now, let’s go!” he ordered.

I did not know what was happening, but if some celebrity appears blowing the door and half of the wall it’s not a good idea to get him mad. So I followed him down the hall. It was crowded with Schiffer clones, but those had black hair and seemed less powerful because they lacked the third eye.

We made our way to the garage way fighting them, Keanu shot them Matrix-style. And I had a broken broom I had found in the hall. Then, we heard a terrifying scream behind us; the Schiffer queen was on her feet again and was running towards us, and destroying every clone on her way. I almost shat my pants, but I managed to run faster. Nothing motivates you better to run faster than a monster chasing you.

After some minutes, I found out that I could not see Keanu Reeves anymore. I was near the entrance of that place, and the good news was that Schiffer seemed to have followed Keanu instead of me. Too bad two of her clones were with me.

Use the force, JM, suddenly said a voice in my head.

“What?” I asked as if hearing voices was completely normal.

The broom, use the broom.

Maybe I was able to do some kung-fu? By now, I believed anything. After all, the day was getting weirder and weirder. So I tried to make the broom spin in my hands like in those old kung-fu movies, then I hit my leg with it; I tripped over it and ended up stabbing both in my fall.

Both clones lied dead on the ground where a puddle of blood began to form.

Never underestimate the Belic power of a broom.

I got out of the building just in time to hear a motorbike really close, then someone grabbed me by my jacket and I thought I was flying until I saw Keanu driving the bike. The Original Schiffer was trying to catch us as we sped up and escaped the place.

Then, the entire building exploded and debris fell all around, trapping the Schiffer under a pink bathtub while we escaped.

“We have to turn back! I have a friend in there!” I yelled.

“If you’re talking about Audrey, she works with us, she’s the one who set the bomb,” Keanu replied.

“Why did she set a bomb?” I asked.

“Creative purposes.” He replied shrugging. “Now let’s go to the base, We’ll answer your questions there,” he continued.

Will continue soon.

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JM is a Spanish writer who endlessly talks about cars, philosophy, and revolution when he's not playing guitar or annoying his friends with bad jokes. You can follow him on Twitter to see more content: @jm_miana.

This article was originally published in The Bad Influence, and it is usually first published there.