“So, the way I figure it is so –”
“Isn’t that an extra ‘so’… grammar-wise?”
“Shut up and listen Cilly… I’m philosophizing.”
“At effing 2.47 in the morning? Of an effing working day?”
“Not for me… only the staff in McDonald’s works weekends. Not us suits.”
“Great… go ahead… be a selfish bitch… show no mercy for the under-working-class friend.”
“Alright then. In which case, like I was saying –”
“Ugh Dee… just ugh!”
“Shh… listen. Everyone loves themselves, right?”
“Not everyone. Some people pretty much hate their lives.”
“But that’s just it… they hate their lives because they are convinced that they deserve better… which is because they love themselves. Even people who keep drawing attention to their faults or illnesses or shit… they just want the rest of us to notice how interesting they are. See?”
“Hmm… maybe. So?”
“So if someone knows me the way I know me… he, or she, depending on gender… no wait, it’s orientation these days… so much politics! Why can’t I call a babysitter a babysitter if what she does for a living is sit babies?”
“Knows you the way you know you?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah. Knows me the way I know me. Then he has to fall in love with me. I mean logically… I know me. I love me. Ryan knows me. Ryan will love me. Right?”
“Who’s Ryan?”
“No one. It’s just a name. Don’t you just love names with a ‘y’ in them?”
“You’re so Russian sometimes Dee.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s Russian.”
“Like salad?”
“Yup… completely tossed.”
“I wish you were a guy Cilly… then I could have fallen for you… I think.”
“Okay… disturbing visual there. Maybe we should put the bottle away now.”
“What have we been having anyway? Doesn’t taste like any wine I’ve ever had.”
“Not wine… wine finished an hour back twit. This is scavenged white rum.”
“Scavenged?”
“Discovered under the sink while rooting around for kitchen towels.”
“Oh. Well. No harm done I suppose. After all, if they use alcohol to preserve stuff then alcohol itself can’t possibly go bad, can it?”
“I suppose not.”
“And it will definitely not rip your heart out, shred your self-esteem to bits, and tell you over an effing sandwich that you are not meant and that it met someone else.”
“Ah… we’re back to Neil now, are we?”
“What? Who’s Neil? Never heard of a Neil in my life. Except for that Armstrong fellow. That bastard! That assholish moronic scum-of-the-universe jelly-limbed stone-hearted bastard!”
“Armstrong?”
“No! My Neil!”
“You mean ex-My Neil. Or is it My ex-Neil? No that is definitely wrong… he is still Neil. Just not yours. Maybe ‘ex-My’, give a pause, and then Neil.”
“Just give me more wine Cill.”
“Rum. We’re having rum. At least we are for another shot each. Then we’re down to vodka.”
“Whatever. Just continue pickling my liver please.”
“C’mon Dee! I gotta go to work tomorrow!”
“Why? You hate it anyway. Quit.”
“You can’t be plastered enough to not be able to spell money dear heart. Plus it’s not like you like your job either. In fact, if memory guides me correctly, which to be fair, at this point in this evening’s entertainment is fairly doubtful, you way beyond hate it.”
“Oh gawd Cill! How did I end up this way? How? I was going to be so glam… I was going to have exotic adventures… I was going to have a high-flying job, a gorgeous absolutely-Rhett love-of-my-life, a black cat, and one of those nifty convertibles. I was going to be Sex-in-the-effing-City. And now look at me! I am… I am…”
“Teletubbies?”
“Worse. A Teletubby rerun. And not even in plural.”
“I know honey… I know.”
“No you don’t.”
“No. I don’t... More vodka?”
“Keep it coming sister… just keep it coming.”
***
13 comments:
1. 'bout time.
2. Nice. I really could imagine you saying Dee's bit. Some of it 'cause you really have at some point.
1. I know... gawd I know!
2. Darn it! I was Cill!
nice one. hope it's not autobiographical. i think i should get down to finishing my magnum opus too. don't want you to beat me to it.
You? Cill? Hahahahahahaha! Cill is the more sensible of the two. A chance example:
“C’mon Dee! I gotta go to work tomorrow!”
“Why? You hate it anyway. Quit.”
You tell me. You really think you are Cill? You really think you are not Dee?
Argh! Everyone's a friggin critic! What did I do to deserve this family? Why couldn't I have belonged to a family of underachievers... then I'd have been God.
Anyway, focus. Did you laugh/smile? Do you want to read more? Do you have extra-strong coffee and really dark chocolate you can air mail over to me?
And why do you guys have the time anyway? You guys should be friggin studying! Pakhi and Bhai... S-T-U-D-Y.
(Damn... I've always wanted to say that to people littler to me... whee... now I'll make a kickass mother)
The name is Kirra. And as a matter of fact I currently possess an unopened box of Chocolate Boutique dark chocolate. Look who is happy now.
And yes, I am spamming your comment box.
I'm off chocolates.
Maybe if I stop working, I'll be nomral again.
Uh... normal.
Is Cilly a pun?
In which case I'm all for continuing with the story...
Of course, you would. And I really don't think that was a pun... was it?
But, then, you both do share an equally pathetic sense of humour. Can't say I will be much surprised.
As a matter of fact, it is. It's all in the next part/chapter... as and when, if ever, it materializes.
Who's Cilly, who's Dee? Where Chapter the second? What happens next? etc etc. Nice work btw!
No it isn't. But thanks anyway.
Ok... woah... deja vu... big time! We've had this conversation before, haven't we?
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