NVDT #83 – “Y’know, anymore I take Viagra just to keep from pissin’ on my shoes.”

Michael “Rocky” Johnson – Men’s Room, Southwest Guitar Show, 2015

PART OF OPEN LINK BLOG HOP

Prompt – How often do you overhear an awesome one-liner or witty comeback, and tell yourself you need to write that down to use for one of your characters?

Who, me? Duh...

“Jack-sown, my man!” Dash interrupted Jackson’s rummage through the laundry basket. “Bruise on your arm needin’ backstory.”

“I was helping Cynthia with a script…” he shook out an inside out black Van Halen tour t-shirt, eyeballed it.

“Just put it on, brother. Ain’t nothin’ gonna show on a black shirt ‘cept white cat hair or fresh love juice. That one bein’ clean, the inspection an all be like, know what I’m sayin’? Lemme see… Cynthia…” He closed his eyes, index fingertips to temples. “Ah, yes. All spice extra nice apple bottom ex-centerfold plays softball on my brother Casper’s wet dream team. How might you be persuaded to, as is commonly said, give it up?”

The screen fluttered, polarized for flashback, slowly came into focus…

Her hand paused at the split-point in the curtains. They were a soft white with an oriental tree dotted with a few blossoms motif that ran two-thirds of the way up from the floor. “I’m not sure what I expected of your decor, so I shouldn’t be surprised by the unexpected.”

“I had help.”

“Of course you did.” She pulled the curtains aside, cranked the window open, shivered slightly, rubbed her hands together.

“ ‘Think tasteful,’ is what I was told. ‘Not in terms of gender or guests. Think of your space as your own livable gallery.’ I quit listening after the curtains.”

She stared out the window saying with light rabidness, “Certainly you had to ask someone for advice on everything else.”

“Give me a little credit.”

“Credit only where it is due, Darling. Next you’ll tell me you’ve learned to cook, become a Godhead chef and wine sommelier. A world away from your roots as an inconvenient Bohemian.”

“Those would be lies. Bohemian suits me these days as long as the place stays clean enough to find the floor.”

 “That’s a relief.” She rolled the window almost closed. “What sort of day, I wonder?” She paused, distracted by a glance in the full-length mirror. “Where I was a day like this would be sometime in summer. A cold morning mist, an evening chill on its heels. Midday perhaps a brief, seductive kiss of golden sun with its empty promises of warmth. As self-righteously steadfast in infidelity as a lover caught in a lie.”

“Enchanting, my dear. I hope whoever you got that from is as long forgotten as they are dead. As we’re exploring the unexpected, the black is fetching, if not Puritanically severe. Anyone I know?”

“The loss of anyone you should know in this Godforsaken colony wouldn’t be the least lamentable to me. No,” she turned at last from the curtains, caught herself in the mirror again. “This is for me.”

“Mourning for yourself?”

“The death of my banishment.” She fluttered a loose lacey black sleeve in a tossing off gesture. “The end of my exile.”

“An exile as I recall completely of your own –”

“Darling! Your tone! Is it such a rancid memory that we can’t speak of it without you becoming tiresomely corrosive?”

“You left us, ‘Darling’. Without a word. And you have the nerve to celebrate it now, throw it in my face?”

“I simply asked what sort of day it would be, but since we’ve arrived at this destination, I shall try to explain…” She went quiet, full furrowed brow pensive. “One’s behavior in certain situations… may appear from the outside to be… selfish… When in truth they are acting, or reacting, unbeknownst even to them, in response to a… a higher calling.” She returned, gradually, from thoughtful to carefree. “Today I bury that chapter of my life and move forward. You must accept that, Darling.”

“So the formative work you were suddenly called to complete by unrecognizable spectral groanings in the ether is behind you? Look out feminism, I’m back? That’s your story?”

“Yes. You needn’t be bitter or snide. What?”

“Nothing.”

“What!”

“I’m waiting for the part with the magic carpets and a Fabio clone Genie in a jeweled jockstrap to grant your last two wishes.” He stepped to the window, cranked it until the pane stood at a right angle to the frame. “Today the sun will burn off the drizzle and haze, it will be in the seventies by early afternoon. Depending on where you are, you might need a light wrap this evening. Or…” he stalled, looked deeply into the mirror… “a… cape?”

“Don’t be facetious, Darling. I suppose it’s the ocean that keeps the clime so temperate,” she said, absently. “I never found a warm beach in England.”

“I heard the French keep those to themselves.” He turned, still shaken by the mirror. “Here, this time of year, the surfers wear wet suits, but most of the Santa’s are in Hawaiian shirts. I told you, it’s like living in a shopping mall nine months out of the year. With mudslides, earthquakes and fires thrown in to interrupt the boredom. If you want cold beaches in summer, they’re up north.”

“That would be up by Frisco?”

San Fran-cisco. The City. No one says ‘Frisco’ except in old moves. Saying it out loud is considered gauche.”

“No more than Santa Claus in a, in a…” she got the giggles, turned red. “Oh shit, Jackson…”

“I’ve been waiting for the fold since ‘selfish’ came out ‘shellfish’.” He dropped the Xeroxed script on the coffee table, rolled his shoulders. “Who wrote this crap?”

“Someone who believes mirrors purchased from aging child stars in scenic, too clean ocean-side small town antique shops tell forever-fated-to-be-lover’s stories across the centuries?”

“Bull. Shit.”

“This junk sells, Jax,” she waved her rolled up script. “Look at your Golden Glob for Twice is as Good as Forever. Talk about some pure dee crapola.”

“Globe. Golden Globe. And it was for incidental music, not –”

“If you collected it in half a hotel ballroom in Anaheim with the studio tan techies and not on TV, it’s a Glob.”

“Touché. Are you sure this is a good idea for you, though? Career wise?”

“I don’t have a career, Jackson. I have some flattering partial nudies and a thin gold necklace for being foldout of the year, going on three years ago. Which means I’m an old lady now to the pimply faced boys who read that shit and I’m sick of signing three-year-old slicks of myself in a negligee at freaking conventions. I’m also short, so I’m always a Snickers bar away from being Rubenesque on camera. Like right now. And I’d like to eat a Snickers bar now and then without thinking about it. So if I drop four or five next week and can repeat this crap in under four takes I’ll have coaxed my final shot out of what’s left of my foldout capital. I do this film in a push-up bra and low-cut costumes that are as Victorian as your Impala and I can fund myself until the pysch Ph.D. starts to pay.” She dropped her glasses down on her nose, fanned the script.

“And eat a Snickers bar when you want one. Like this morning.” He glanced at her butt. “I get it.”

She smacked his arm with her script, he sported a small crooked grin when he picked up his copy from the coffee table.

“What’s with the smirk, cowboy?”

“You. This morning’s Snickers bar. Rubenesque. All of it. Reminded of something a friend of mine’s Dad used to say.”

“The smirk says I’m the trigger for that memory.” She folded her arms, rolled up script in her right fist. “Own it.”

He cleared his throat, dropped his voice. “So you wanna go to Hollywood, huh? Well, you should go.”

“Yeah?” her eyebrows came up slightly.

“Yeah.” He leaned, leered theatrically at her backside. “The walk will do you good.”

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PART OF OPEN LINK BLOG HOP

Thanks to JGM and “Big” Bill Jordan for the final tag.

Published by

Phil Huston

https://philh52.wordpress.com/

20 thoughts on “NVDT #83 – “Y’know, anymore I take Viagra just to keep from pissin’ on my shoes.””

  1. the mention of people dressing for the weather reminds me of Florida. People from Wyoming are out in shorts when people from Florida are pulling their leather jackets out of the closet.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I lived down on the border for a while. The temp hit 55 and locals were locked inside, fireplaces roaring. The reverse was living in Pennsylvania for 6 month. They got about two or three inches of snow one afternoon and we called the school to see if they were closing it. They laughed and said “You must be the people from Texas.”

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Everyone missed the fact that the top 2/3 was pretty much a collection of things I’d never say but saved strung together. Tiresomely corrosive? Worse? It cleared half a dozen plagiarism scans at 0%! So I’m going to dig through my collection of 50s little known pulps and bring them up to speed and stop working at it🤣

        Liked by 1 person

      2. This line made me very suspicious: “They were a soft white with an oriental tree dotted with a few blossoms motif that ran two-thirds of the way up from the floor.”

        Liked by 1 person

  2. I beg to differ on the problem of finding a warm English beach. Why do you think we bought a caravan on the Isle of Wight? It’s as far south as you can get, and I’ve known days so hot that we couldn’t go outside.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. Oh yes, probably. We can get up to about 32 degrees on a really hot day, although I do remember my thermometer in the garden reading 44 degrees on one particular day a couple of years ago. Don’t usually get it that hot.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I don’t really hear good one-liners, but me and my guy do love eavesdropping on people in restaurants so we can analyze everything they said and make giant uncharitable assumptions about their life stories.

    Speaking of restaurants, we had this one weird incident after he had had a major cervical spinal cord surgery. We were in a booth and a couple was seated behind us. The man threw himself down so hard that he jolted my guy very painfully. So how else could my guy respond besides standing up and throwing himself even harder. The man on the other side screamed “What the HELL’S going on here?!” We didn’t engage him but we were like dude, you started it…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I have an idiot parking lot walker the finger the other day. She called me a racist. I said “idiot ass has nothing to do with color.” Which is true. Idiot ass is about as equal an opportunity as is known .

      Liked by 1 person

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