SIXTY-ONE. Enough sorrow.
"There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it."
E.M.Forster, A Room With A View.
In six years, I might be in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease. The doctor doesn’t think I live to see the result of another six years as I drink and smoke daily - sometimes twice daily. But, tomorrow I could get shot by some wacko - do you know how many times I’ve been at gunpoint, because I don’t. Or, I could finish off my walk on earth after serving the Coast Guard for ten or so years. No one knows what tomorrow brings. And, there are plenty of things I’ve seen and done that no one believes, even when I have photographic evidence, so really, I could have already lost it - this whole thing could’ve been a dream, and who can really prove otherwise?
Delusions or not, it’s been a good ride for Denny Crane. And, I do mean ride literally, because I go down most phone books and produce a lengthy list of women I’ve slept with - though, it’s the unlisted one’s that were the real spitfires. I’ve been arrested more times than I can account for - most of them were unfair, but they weren’t so bad once Alan was getting thrown in there too. Don’t take that to a homosexual place though. Alan and I bond as men - heterosexual men - and sometimes that means we have sleepovers in my bed and eat popcorn, smores, watch movies, whatever. So what if we’re a couple of flamingos who have special time on my balcony? It only directly affects Alan and me, and we haven’t complained - which is impressive for Alan because he makes a sport out of getting on his soapbox to bitch, and yet he manages to get laid.
It’s been a good life. A lot of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll, like any good life should have. There’s been a lot of cigars, a lot of scotch, and a lot of women. I’ve won Oscar’s Emmy’s, Tammy’s. I’ve held the Stanley Cup, which my name damn well should’ve been on, and we’re working on that. I’ve been on TV with Larry King, Gracie Jane, Stephen Colbert, and some other people who’s name don’t matter enough to me to remember them. Can you really complain? Sure, you can. If I’ve learned anything from Alan, it’s that you can damn well bitch about anything. And if the bitching doesn’t work, then you find a loop hole, which is why we are proud members of the Coast Guard - the other branches of the military didn’t want us, despite my prior years of service and Alan’s… well, whatever Alan brings to the military other than a lawsuit. But, I could absolutely complain about the prospects of my life ending within the next six years. I could whine, bitch, and moan - quite possibly get pity sex from Shirley, if I’m really lucky, she tends to fall for me in vulnerable moments, and that might get her out of Carl’s sack for good. I could make a big stink about it. Hell, Alan would sue the doctor if I let him. But, I’ve got nothing to complain about.
No, really, I’ve got nothing to complain about. The few things that are kind of a piss off - well, those are between me and whoever’s up there listening to the old guy down here with mad cow. It’s been a good life. I’ve got my name all over this building - the door, the letterhead, most of the lips of the female interns. People shudder in the courtroom when they hear my name; women say my name while they shudder. I’ve had Shirley in moments - and I really believe she was the one, but she’s happy, and I prefer her that way, so I’m not fighting at this moment, but check back later on that front. And, I have a best friend who makes all this seem worth it, because as long as I’ve got him to share the next six years with and whatever comes after, then it’ll be alright in the final chapter of Denny Crane.
E.M.Forster, A Room With A View.
In six years, I might be in the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease. The doctor doesn’t think I live to see the result of another six years as I drink and smoke daily - sometimes twice daily. But, tomorrow I could get shot by some wacko - do you know how many times I’ve been at gunpoint, because I don’t. Or, I could finish off my walk on earth after serving the Coast Guard for ten or so years. No one knows what tomorrow brings. And, there are plenty of things I’ve seen and done that no one believes, even when I have photographic evidence, so really, I could have already lost it - this whole thing could’ve been a dream, and who can really prove otherwise?
Delusions or not, it’s been a good ride for Denny Crane. And, I do mean ride literally, because I go down most phone books and produce a lengthy list of women I’ve slept with - though, it’s the unlisted one’s that were the real spitfires. I’ve been arrested more times than I can account for - most of them were unfair, but they weren’t so bad once Alan was getting thrown in there too. Don’t take that to a homosexual place though. Alan and I bond as men - heterosexual men - and sometimes that means we have sleepovers in my bed and eat popcorn, smores, watch movies, whatever. So what if we’re a couple of flamingos who have special time on my balcony? It only directly affects Alan and me, and we haven’t complained - which is impressive for Alan because he makes a sport out of getting on his soapbox to bitch, and yet he manages to get laid.
It’s been a good life. A lot of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll, like any good life should have. There’s been a lot of cigars, a lot of scotch, and a lot of women. I’ve won Oscar’s Emmy’s, Tammy’s. I’ve held the Stanley Cup, which my name damn well should’ve been on, and we’re working on that. I’ve been on TV with Larry King, Gracie Jane, Stephen Colbert, and some other people who’s name don’t matter enough to me to remember them. Can you really complain? Sure, you can. If I’ve learned anything from Alan, it’s that you can damn well bitch about anything. And if the bitching doesn’t work, then you find a loop hole, which is why we are proud members of the Coast Guard - the other branches of the military didn’t want us, despite my prior years of service and Alan’s… well, whatever Alan brings to the military other than a lawsuit. But, I could absolutely complain about the prospects of my life ending within the next six years. I could whine, bitch, and moan - quite possibly get pity sex from Shirley, if I’m really lucky, she tends to fall for me in vulnerable moments, and that might get her out of Carl’s sack for good. I could make a big stink about it. Hell, Alan would sue the doctor if I let him. But, I’ve got nothing to complain about.
No, really, I’ve got nothing to complain about. The few things that are kind of a piss off - well, those are between me and whoever’s up there listening to the old guy down here with mad cow. It’s been a good life. I’ve got my name all over this building - the door, the letterhead, most of the lips of the female interns. People shudder in the courtroom when they hear my name; women say my name while they shudder. I’ve had Shirley in moments - and I really believe she was the one, but she’s happy, and I prefer her that way, so I’m not fighting at this moment, but check back later on that front. And, I have a best friend who makes all this seem worth it, because as long as I’ve got him to share the next six years with and whatever comes after, then it’ll be alright in the final chapter of Denny Crane.