Apr 01, 2007 21:51
When I worked for him, the guy lived three blocks from me, and it took five years for him to fucking drop by. It was not a social call. They never are.
I idolized him. I'll admit that. Ever since I was a kid fucking my way through Hollywood 101 in the WMA mail-room. As far as metaphors go, I'm Carcharhinus leucas: the bull shark. (Territorial, aggressive, and with the highest level of testosterone of any creature on the planet.) Terence McQuewick is a great white. And a washed up old fucking prick. But I wouldn't have come on as partner at any other prick's chop-shop. Whatever else that Limey cocksucker may say about me, he can never play like he didn't recognize.
Things are different between us now, obviously.
...Actually not all that different, just more honest.
That's just a little word on Terence, it's not my answer to this fucking question.
For my mommy, I'd like my next door neighbor's wife, Mrs. Phil, because I would gladly latch onto one of her sweater puppies and suck the night away. Those bitches are real. A couple of years ago I would have said Angie, but she seems like she has a few more than she can handle these days. I don't really like to share anyway.