No Scene

Sweetheart, don't listen to those dickheads. My girl Sterling and I are here on vacation. I've had several bottles of Beck's Dark. We're going to feather each other's hair in a second, like the baby birdies that we are.

We're so bored, sitting in the brightly lit kitchen of this oceanside house that we're talking about how those college geeks put down the fact that you're from Canada. Like being from the U.S. is so great. They're probably the kind of fucks who put a flag in their dorm room window. Or better yet on the blue cinderblock wall they give you to wake up to everyday. My dealer was telling me that he hated his trip to Amsterdam because everywhere he went he got ripped off. His Dutch friend (actually he was Chinese, but he lived in the Netherlands for awhile) told him that they did that because they didn't want Americans around. They figured that that if they ripped off our asses we wouldn't come back. "We hate your country," he told him. My dealer tried to explain it to me. "Look what happens when you kill someone over here. You go to prison for life. There--you know how long the sentence is? Four years."

I'm not sure what if anything that proves. I didn't notice that sort of thing during my stays in Amsterdam or Der Haag, but perhaps that's because I look rather European, so I don't get treated that way.

Rainy, freezing trees and an even more rainy and freezing beach. Sterling wants to go for a walk anyway. Poor thing is stretched so far out of shape she can't even begin to adjust to a natural rhythm. The little house shudders and shakes in the wind. We've got the TV on in one room and The Cure on the stereo in another and us in the kitchen, elbows on the brown formica countertop.

Robert Smith sings, "And if only I was sure that the head on the door was a dream-dream-dream." It's true that I'd like to piss her off. It's also true that she wants to stick her three finger claw between your legs. OK so those weren't her exact words. . See--she's reading over my shoulder and getting pissed like I said. FINE--of course it's not a claw, just three normal fingers. Whatever.

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