(Untitled)

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[so! on this fine morning in camp fuck you die, a boy - fourteen, tops - sits outside one of the old barns, leaning against the side of it. he appears to be entranced as he peruses through an iPod.]

Britney Spears, what have you done . . .

[slowin' down!]

Comments

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[sits down next to him cheerfully.]

She didn't shave her head again, did she? It was such so sad the first time.

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- she shaved her head?

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Oops.

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Why would she do that?

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Because she's crazy now. Sad but true, considering her contribution to popular music.

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People have said the same about Michael Jackson, but he still continues to contribute an enormous amount of quality material to popular music ...

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...

Er, well, Michael Jackson is ...

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...

No.

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... I'm sorry.

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Was it drugs?

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- no, nevermind. There are more important and slightly less traumatic matters to discuss, anyway.

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Oh? Fire away, then. And ... if you're interested later I'll email you some internet links to what was published about the autopsy report.

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I think I need an intervention. Not me, but my older self. Him? Is it weird to call myself "him"? Whatever.

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What? Why do you think that? And "your future self" is a mouthful. I'm not great at thinking up nicknames, so just use him for now, I'll understand.

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[holds the iPod out.]

Look at the most played tracks.

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[... takes it.]

Another Day? Jar of Hearts? Iris?

You're right.