Post by RHETT DONATIEN OSANNE on Apr 14, 2010 17:52:56 GMT -5
rhett d. osanne
[/color][/size][/font]twenty three - unemployed - loaded out the ass - sean opry
Phone conversation, two weeks prior.
“You… did what?”
“I extracted the CD player from my car, Elise. That’s exactly what I said.”
“But that was one of those nice ones, wasn’t it? The really expensive sound-”
“It was playing that boring, hideously annoying song you like so much, so I got frustrated and pulled it out of the dashboard. I‘ll bring it in to the service center tomorrow and get a new one.”
“That one you hate because it reminds you of France?”
“No, that one… Party In The U.S.A…”
Despite an inexplicable disdain for Miley Cyrus and everything she’s associated with (including but not limited to the disney channel, walmart, and pop radio stations), Rhett managed to exist on with himself after Doli left and took everything with her that he once longed for, and for a justified reason that even he, the ultimate liar, couldn’t deny. A mask of male persuasion couldn’t assist him in his quest to prove himself worthy, and thus he ended up officially stuck to the hip of the model who he should have known better than to screw in the first place.
while drunken, he decided blubbering would be an ideal way to spend his final conscious hours.
“You know what sucks about life? I do. I know what fucking sucks about every single part of fucking life. I know how it can tear you up and spit you back out and chew on your insides and turn you into cud. Which is gross, by the way - cud is like cow puke. Actually, it is cow puke. And then people are like aw, look at the cute little cows, but they’re actually really nasty and disgusting. I fucking hate cows. You know what else I hate? How you can end up drunken in a bar you’ve never been to before in your life, after you get into a fight with your sort of girlfriend because she wants to settle down and have kids, and because she’s tired of you laying on the couch all day and staring out the windows. Jesus christ, why does she get to control what I do? What does she get to nitpick every little aspect of my life until I’m whittled down to nothing more than the core of an apple? That’s gross too. There’s worms and shit in those fucking things. Sick. Gross. And bananas - don’t even get me started on bananas. Yellow and phallic. That is just not a good combination. Doli loves bananas. And my sweet jesus, when she… I mean. Elise. Elise hates bananas. And I don’t blame her much, there. They’re nasty. Fruit’s nasty. I despise fruit. I’d rather have that one meal with all the good, yummy fried food - the bacon and the eggs and the pancakes and I’d eat it all if I had the chance to, but I guess I don’t. So I won’t. I rhymed. That’s funny. Hey, do you remember that movie ‘The Titanic’? I just watched that.
Elise made me watch it.
I didn’t like it much.
Kind of turned me on for a redhead, though. Not going to lie about that one. Rose was beastly. Especially that picture on the horse. She looks so ethereal and pale. Not like the women I used to have to put up with, tanned and nasty and rawhide-scented. What I wouldn’t give to go back before I started that shit. You have no idea. And then I’d eat that yummy breakfast a million times over and get fat and get fired, and then I’d just go live in the outskirts of France and none of this shit would have happened. But I guess it did happen, because I’m sitting here with you being stupid and spilling my soul and you probably don’t care, but as long as you’ve got another glass. Hey, yeah. Could I have a couple shots of whatever’s on the house? Thanks. That’ll really hit the spot. Ow! Fuck. What’d you put in there, arsenic? Jesus christ, man. I don’t appreciate that shit. I’m rolling my eye at you right now. Yes, just one. Do you have a problem with that?
Good, didn’t think so.
Anyway. Life is shitty. I was born, it was inconsequential to the life of my parents and my dad was a hooker, so I was a hooker when I grew up because that was normal for me. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t hate it either. Prostitution means sleeping with pretty chicks for money. And then I moved to Bridgeport because it was small and I’d never lived in a small town, and then Doli fucked with my head until I couldn’t think of anything else. We fucked our way across the ocean and ended up in france, and shit was good until that fucking modeling agency ruined everything. We were happy, never officially said we were dating but we screwed ALL THE TIME and we said our I love yous and I’d never liked someone as much as I liked her before… we didn’t even fight. Ever. Until Thomas models came around and screwed everyone over. And not in the good screwing like I meant before. Cause Doli’s good at screwing. It was fun. She fucked some gay guy and I fucked Elise and then we got mad for the first time at each other, and I got sick and I had to drink until I passed out so I could sleep. She left, I don’t know where she went and I haven’t heard from her. I tried to call and apologize and send her stuff and help her out, but you know, she moved out of paris and dropped the agency and they said she changed her phone… and that they couldn’t give it to me. What the hell ever. We could have been engaged by now! We could have been popping out little Rhett-lets and Doli-ettes, but no. And now I’m here in fucking Italy. Who gives a fuck about Italy. Who. Gives. No one. No one cares. And that includes me.”
this shtuff is a SEKRET.
