Mar 15, 2023

Breaking Good Or How I learned to stop worrying and love the Blue Meth

Synopsis: One day Winston Smith, an accountant based in London wakes up in the body of Jesse Pinkman and the rest is history.   Jesse Pinkman SI. Fic takes place from Season 2 Ep 4.   

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A new life

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I moved around tirelessly in my bed. My back hurts.

Actually, my entire body hurt. My nose was runny, and my throat was sore.

Where am I?

I moved around again.

Shit…why does it smell so funny?

Ring Ring Ring

My phone

I rolled in my bed again, this time to the source of the sound. I picked up the phone and answered,

“Hello..” My voice was different, more sore and tired.

“Jesse.”

“Huh?” Was all I could muster up. Who the hell was Jesse? My name was Wnston Smith, an Accountant based in London.

“Jesse, quit playing around, I don’t have much time. We’ll meet up at Gas N Go. Be there at 9 today.”

BEEP

“I’m sorry, who’s this again?” I spoke before I realised he had cut the call.

“What the hell is happening?” I said out loud, I didn’t have a clue about anything.

Just before I fully grasped what was happening, my phone rang again,

Ring Ring Ring

Ah shit, my ears hurt. When did I change my phone’s ringtone to this obnoxious tune?

It read Mom.

I hadn’t spoken to her for a decade, since she left me and dad to start a family with another guy.

“Hello?” I asked apprehensively.

“Jesse, we have to talk.”

“…..” I didn’t say anything back.

“Hello Jesse…are you there?”

“….”  I still couldn’t speak.

“Hello?”

“Um, yeah. I’m here Mom.”

Wait a minute…. Why did I sound……American?

“Oh, there you are. It’s as I was saying before, your father and I have to speak with you about something.”

“About what?”

“It’s important, stop by our home at 8 in the morning tomorrow.”

“Uh…. sure thing…mom.” I added the last part reluctantly. First of all, it was difficult to call someone that, especially after falling out with my real mum.  Secondly, I was English…. we call our mum’s mum not mom like a mentally ill person.

“Jesse, are you sure you’re, okay?” My ‘mom’ asked me.

“Yeah…. absolutely. I’m great…look I’m busy now, so I’ll call you later.”

“You sure?”

“…Yeah. See you later.”

This time, I cut the call before she could say anything. For some reason I really didn’t want to continue that conversation anymore.

I got up from my bed and went to the bathroom.

It was weird.

It felt different.

I know this was my room, I know that this was my phone, but something was amiss. It was in the tip of my mouth, but I couldn’t say exactly what it was.

I walked near the faucet, turned on the tap and washed my face.

My face had dark circles and my skin pale. I really need to take better care of myself. It’s not like I’m in my twenties again.

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Wait a minute.

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My face. That’s not my face!

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.

I started panicking and backed away from the mirror.  “What the fuck?” I yelled out in fear.

This had to be some kind of dream. Yeah, that makes perfect sense. Everyone was calling me ‘Jesse’ and not Winston like they usually do.

This has to be some kind of a dream. I mean it has to be.

The realisation had the unfortunate effect of making me panic instead of calming me down.

I walked back to my bedroom nervously.

My room was a mess, there was half eaten pizza and uncleaned plates. Dry bowls with what I think was leftover ice cream. There were clothes everywhere and a putrid smell hung over the air.

Fuck! Who can live like this…. Oh, that’s right, ME!

I took a deep breath in and a breath out.

“Okay, first things first, let’s clean this whole place and worry about everything else later.”

I would rather kill myself than sit here for another five minutes. First, I opened the windows for the fresh air. Then I started with the plates and put them into my sink. Threw the half eaten junk into my trash and took the trash out.

Picked up all of my clothes and put them in a bin. I’ll do the laundry later.

I broke out the broom and swept the whole place clean.

Whew, finally. It looks like an acceptable place to stay right now.

I was breathing heavily, I shouldn’t be, but I was for some reason. I crashed the bed and kept staring at the Wall.

When am I going to wake up?

It occurred to me then that I stunk like a dead rat. The smell of sweat and semen was predominant.

I really needed a shower.

Thankfully there was hot water and the shower worked. There was no soap though so I couldn’t thoroughly wash myself but still I didn’t smell anymore.

I sprayed Deodorant all over my body.

AXE deodorant…. What am I douchebag in this dream?

I sat down on the couch.

“Ow!” I yelled.

I sat on something. It was a giant bong. There were also notices for late payment of bills. There were also hints of white powder on the paper, probably cocaine.

I put it on the ground and leaned back, taking in everything. There were tons of used syringes with metal plates all around the house.

So let me get this straight. I’m an American druggie called Jesse, my room reeks of Heroine and Cigarette ash. Oh, I’m also back on literally all of my bills and I have like 80 bucks in my pocket.

What a weird fucking dream, I hope I don’t wake up too late. A new client’s visiting us-

Then it hit me.

I was an American.

I was a Druggie.

My name was Jesse.

No way!

I grabbed my cell which was an older model than my actual phone. It was definitely not a smartphone.

I cycled through my contacts anxiously and then…

No freaking way Yo

There it was. Written in plain english. I read the contact on my phone out loud,

“Mr. White.”

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Later that day around 9 PM

I was at the place that Mr. White told me to meet.

Gas n Go.

I parked my bike in the side and got down to enter the place. My palms were extremely sweaty, I was going to meet the man himself. Heisenberg. Walter White, soon to be the biggest supplier of the famous blue meth.

After the first few hours, I kinda had to give up on waking up. I was still holding out hope that this was all a dream. I really hoped that after I go to sleep today, I would wake up in my room again….my actual room.

“Heeey CaptAin AmerriCAhh.” The hobo sitting right in front of me yelled out.

I was perplexed at first but then thought what the hell, he’s being nice to me.

I offered him a fist bump, and he returned the gesture. I didn’t stick around to start a conversation with him though.

I was polite, not crazy.

A cop car passed by me quickly, I opened the door and entered the gas station.

And there he was.

My bald-headed chemistry teacher, who would end up becoming one of the biggest crime lords the world has ever seen.

For the time being though he looked like a nerd, I knew that would change within the matter of months.

The man looked exactly like Bryan Cranston, and he had the hat and everything.

“Hey Mr. White.” I greeted him quietly, as I stood on the opposite shelf. He was pretending to be searching for something on his side of the shelf. My politeness had a weird effect on him. I guess he wasn’t expecting me to greet him. Okay, I have to remember that for the future.

For the future…. I mean I hope not. I hope this was all a dream and that I would wake up to be me tomorrow. I had a comfy job with good pay and a great collection of IKEA furniture.

“Hey…. Jesse. I’m…. sorry I called you here out of the blue, but I can’t leave my house for twenty minutes without my wife worrying.”

“It’s all good….Yo.”

Thankfully my american accent was natural otherwise I’m pretty sure people would start suspecting me. A random stranger walked up to where Mr. White was standing. We awkwardly moved to the next section.

“Okay, okay…. Oh that’s right, I’ll need some time before we can cook again. Like I said before, I can’t move freely as I used to. I need some time to mend fences.”

“Alright cool…I understand but I need some money in the meantime, I have like fifty bucks on me right now.”

He shifted nervously and looked around suspiciously.

Damn this is the guy that everyone’s so afraid of? The most wanted in the entire USA?

I knew that looks could be deceptive but goddamn he looked like he couldn’t hurt an ant. Guess that’s why he evaded detection for so long.

When he scanned the room to his heart’s content, he handed me a brown envelope.

“There’s 600 dollars in there.”

It’s not too much but if I’m smart about it It’ll last me for some time. The real problem was getting the RV back. Before I woke up today, Jesse…I mean the real Jesse Pinkman had the foresight to stash it on Badger’s (Jesse Pinkman’s friend and one of the best hitmen to the west of the Mississippi.) cousin Clovis’s lot. This was an incredibly smart move by the otherwise not so bright Jesse. When Hank Schrader did finally come knocking on his/my house’s door, he had no evidence to nail me on. They had to let me go because they had nothing on me.

To get the RV back, I have to pay Clovis a thousand dollars.

Frankly speaking, I was thinking of leaving it there. I didn’t want to live a life of crime. It’s just not worth it.

“It’ll do for now…I stashed the RV in a lot. We need a thousand dollars to get it out but we have time until that, right?”

“You…. what!” He bit his words before he yelled.

“Look, it’s either that or your dickhead brother-in-law arrests me with the RV and we both go to jail.”

That shut him up really quick.

He grunted once and shook his head sideways but otherwise remained cool.

“Alright, Mr. White. Thanks for this.” I shook the envelope slightly.

“Hey…what are you doing?”

“I don’t know……Leaving. Is that a problem?…. Yo.” I had to add it in there, it would be too weird if Jesse started speaking like a normal person.

“I leave first!” He threw a hissy fit.

Since the man did pay me right now, I thought I would humour his tantrum this time and said,

“Right.”

He left not too long after that.

I picked up a bar of soap and some fruity loops, paid for it at the register and headed back home.

The ride back home was a little bit too windy but otherwise very enjoyable.

I counted all of the money once I reached home.

Yup, 600 dollars it’s all here.

I showered again but this time with soap, so my body actually smelled nice this time.

I ate a sandwich and went to sleep.

My body was craving for some meth, but I had to fight off the urge by counting till 100.

Soon enough my eyes closed, and my body felt heavy.

I really hope I’m not Jesse Pinkman when I wake up tomorrow.

Hopefully I wake up from this weird hyper realistic breaking bad dream, i really like my job and my life. I really like London and it’s shit weather.

Please God, please let me not be Jesse Pinkman when I wake up tomorrow.