26 Dec Tommy & Louise
Tommy. Fucking Tommy. A rugged mid thirties guy with nothing better to do. He sleeps naked on a cheap bed in a cheap motel in the middle of… Where the fuck am I again? Oh. Yeah. Before I forget: Tommy, that’s fucking me.
– Tommy. Tommy. Wake up.
– What? No. Let me sleep, babe. It’s too damn early.
– Open your eyes, Tommy.
– Louise, what– Shit.
Fuck. That’s fucking Louise. The fucking redhead. The bitch wearing the Sex Pistols shirt on top of me.
– What the fuck, Louise.
– Tommy, do you love me?
Louise: that’s not her real name. When we first met she told me her name was Camille. It was Julie before that. All… Frenchy. She likes French stuff. She thinks it’s cool. I don’t think she’s ever been to France. I don’t think she’s ever been to Europe at all.
– I swear Tommy, I’m gonna shoot you if you don’t tell me the truth.
Oh, did I mention she is holding a fucking .38 revolver right to my fucking face? Yes, she is. That’s my first vision in the morning. A barrel. By the way, it’s loaded. I can see the fucking bul – CLICK – lets.
– I’ll fucking do it, Tommy.
Cocked that shit that bitch.
– What happened now, baby?
– Don’t you call me baby.
Her hair is not really red either. Swear to you, I don’t know the real color. But it’s not fucking red. I’ve seen it blonde, black, blue, violet, pink. Fucking pink, man! What is this shit with girls and the color pink? Fuck pink. There, I said it.
– Are you upset? Is that it?
– I’m not upset. I’m calm. I’m super calm. I just wanna know.
One thing I have to give to Louise. When she does something she goes all the way. If she dyes her hair one color, she dyes all her hair that color. Yeah, that’s right. Pink hair, pink eyebrows, pink… you know. Ain’t she something?
– Okay, you want me to say it, I’ll say it: I love you.
– YOU FUCKING NOT!!!
Gee-sus! I really might get shot this time. I think she’s an actress. One of those method ones. Or used to be. Or should be. I think she tried the Hollywood thing. I met her in a train. She was the one who approached me. Like in a novel. Or a movie. She had some “lines”. Memorized ones. I think they’re from a play. Anyways. She would be a really good actress. She’s good at it. Organic. She trembles when she speaks. She trembles when she cries. She even trembles when she fucks. She’s organic, this bitch. Whatever.
– Where is it then? Where is this love? Can I see it?
I wonder if this is a scene. If it is, she’s doing a fucking great job at it. Oscar shit.
– Show me. C’mon. Show me.
– Sweetie, how can I show you fucking love?
She takes the gun from my face. Nope. She doesn’t put the gun away. She moves it from my fucking face to my fucking heart. Well, at least open casket, right? Whatever.
– So I guess you won’t need this then.
– Yes, I will.
– What for?
– It pumps blood through my arteries and veins. Pretty fucking useful, isn’t it?
– Is it? Are you sure?
She convinced me to do this trip to the east with her. Thelma and Louise shit mixed with natural born killers I would say. Or any other kinda cheesy Hollywood shit. Fiction. That shit doesn’t happen in real life, I’m telling ya.
– Cause I don’t feel any blood right now.
Do you know that there ain’t no shit out here? I mean zero, nothing, nada. Just fucking sand and bushes for miles and miles. This can get someone crazy, you know? Apparently, it is.
– What do you mean?
We should have done like Kerouac. Go to fucking Mexico. The brothels there are really something, I heard. Besides, warm weather and beaches can get you in the mood. Non-killing mood, I mean.
– You know what I mean.
She comes closer, really closer. Puts the gun against my neck, lips and the tip of her tongue against my ear. Does she love me? I think she’s fucking crazy, that’s what I think.
– I know for a fact that guys love with their dicks…
She’s right about something: I’m not sure I love her. I might. I’m not 100% sure, that’s what I’m saying.
– And I’m not feeling yours.
She’s not wearing panties. Nor a bra either. One day she mentioned she never did when she was a kid, so why change when you grow up? She says it’s fucking bullshit. She says men feel intimidated by women. I agree. Men are pussies. Actually, men are fragile dicks.
– That’s called morning boner, baby. It got nothing to do with love.
– You’re gonna leave me, aren’t you?
Who puts these fucking ideas in a girl’s head? I know who. A FUCKING IDIOT. That’s who. There is always a idiot fucking it all up for the next idiot. Yeah, that’s right. Now we all have to pay the price, you moron! Fucking stupid asshole.
– No, I’m not. Well. Maybe. I don’t know.
– If I shoot you, you won’t.
Got this gun for protection. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Now it just seems like a statement of stupidity.
– There are other things you can do to make me stay.
– Forever is a long time. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ll get bored– Oh–
Where is this hand going? Fuck. She is a good actress. She really knows her tricks.
– Tell me…
Pulled my shirt up just a bit. Shit. I love the feeling of her belly against mine. That’s fucking sexy if you ask me.
– I didn’t mean–
She puts me inside of her. I know: stupid. But guys are that stupid. And simple. Learn this shit once and for all. We ain’t gonna change. Neither are you, I guess. We both better accept it.
– Do you love me now?
– Baby, I–
Velvet. Sometimes it’s not what you do, it’s just who you are. Like Lego pieces. You could call astral alignment, combination, conjunction… I don’t know… connection?
– Tell me the truth.
She’s obsessed about truth. It’s a really rare quality. I think it makes her also rare. Like a wild animal. Maybe there are some unicorns out there.
– From the moment I set my eyes on you.
Crazy thing is: I am telling the truth, I really am. Well, I’m being romantic, I’ll give you that. But I’m being honest when I say that something was already there. Like a seed, you know. Dormant. Maybe that’s the thing about love. Maybe it’s always there. You just need the right conditions for it to grow.
– I’m telling the truth.
– Are you gonna cum for me?
– Because no one tells me what to do.
– Are you sure?
Oh, FYI, she still has the gun against my neck.
– I am.
– What if…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Yeah, I curse a lot. It helps me relieve the pressure.
I think I also might be crazy. It makes sense. If I am with a crazy person it’s because I’m crazy too. Right? That’s gotta be it. The same way if you’re with a moron it’s because you’re also a moron. Or not. I’m really not thinking straight right now. And besides, what the hell do I know? I always give Louise what she wants.