86
" This time, something different happens, though. It’s the daydreaming that does it. I’m doing the usual
thing—imagining in tiny detail the entire course of the relationship, from first kiss, to bed, to moving in
together, to getting married (in the past I have even organized the track listing of the party tapes), to how
pretty she’ll look when she’s pregnant, to names of children—until suddenly I realize that there’s
nothing left to actually, like, happen. I’ve done it all, lived through the whole relationship in my head.
I’ve watched the film on fast-forward; I know the whole plot, the ending, all the good bit. Now I’ve got
to rewind and watch it all over again in real time, and where’s the fun in that?
And fucking … when’s it all going to fucking stop? I’m going to jump from rock to rock for the rest of
my life until there aren’t any rocks left? I’m going to run each time I get itchy feet? Because I get them
about once a quarter, along with the utilities bills. More than that, even, during British Summer Time.
I’ve been thinking with my guts since I was fourteen years old, and frankly speaking, between you and
me, I have come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains. "
― Nick Hornby , High Fidelity
96
" Jean grinned down at her, and she handed him something in a small silk bag.'What's this?''Lock of my hair, ' she said. 'Meant to give it to you days ago, but we got busy with all the raiding. You know. Piracy. Hectic life. ''Thank you, love, ' he said.'Now, if you find yourself in trouble wherever you go, you can hold up that little bag to whoever's bothering you, and you can say, " You have no idea who you're fucking with. I'm under the protection of the lady who gave me this object of her favour. " ''And that's supposed to make them stop?''Shit no, that's just to confuse them. Then you kill them while they're standing there looking at you funny. "
97
" Well, well, well,” Santa said once the elf had retreated. “Come and sit on my lap, little boy.”This Santa’s beard was real, and so was his hair. He wasn’t fucking around.“I’m not really a little boy,” I pointed out.“Get on my lap, then, big boy.”I walked up to him. There wasn’t much lap under his belly. And even though he tried to disguise it, as I went up there, I swear he adjustedhis crotch.“Ho ho ho!” he chortled.I sat gingerly on his knee, like it was a subway seat with gum on it.“Have you been a good little boy this year?” he asked.I didn’t feel that I was the right person to determine my own goodness or badness, but in the interest of speeding along this encounter, I said yes.He actually wobbled with joy.“Good! Good! Then what can I bring you this Christmas?”I thought it was obvious.“A message from Lily,” I said. “That’s what I want for Christmas. But I want it right now.”“So impatient!” Santa lowered his voice and whispered in my ear. “But Santa does have a little something for you”—he shifted a little inhis seat—“right under his coat. If you want to have your present, you’ll have to rub Santa’s belly.”“What?” I asked.He gestured with his eyes down to his stomach. “Go ahead.”I looked closely and saw the faint outline of an envelope beneath his red velvet coat.“You know you want it,” he whispered.The only way I could survive this was to think of it as the dare it was.Fuck off, Lily. You can’t intimidate me.I reached right under Santa’s coat. To my horror, I found he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It was hot, sweaty, Geshy, hairy … andhis belly was this massive obstacle, blocking me from the envelope. I had to lean over to angle my arm in order to reach it, the whole timehaving Santa laugh, “Oh ho ho, ho ho oh ho!” in my ear. I heard the elf scream, “What the hell!” and various parents start to shriek. Yes, I was feeling up Santa. And now the corner of the envelope was in my hand. He tried to jiggle it away from me, but I held tight and yanked itout, pulling some of his white belly hair with me. “OW ho ho!” he cried. I jumped o1 his lap. “Security’s here!” the elf proclaimed.The letter was in my hand, damp but intact.“He touched Santa!” a young child squealed. "
99
" The girl says " Oh uh-uh, wait a minute! Wait a minute! Just because I'm dressed this way does not make me a whore!" Which is true, Gentlemen, that is true. Just because they dress a certain way doesn't mean they are a certain way. Don't even forget it. But ladies, you must understand that is fucking confusing. It just is. Now that would be like me, Dave Chappelle, the comedian, walking down the street in a cop uniform. Somebody might run up on me saying, " Oh, thank God. Officer, help us! Come on. They're over here. Help us!" " Oh-hoh! Just because I'm dressed this way does not make me a police officer!" See what I mean? All right, ladies, fine. You are not a whore. But you are wearing a whore's uniform. "