My life is a constant stream of voiceovers connecting events that have happened with those that certainly should have happened, my mind a vindictive narrator who knows too much and acts far too often.
I can’t escape it.
I thought maybe with the right medication. But his voice just gets louder? And the things he says. Sometimes he speaks so loud that the people around me must know. The Subway diet ain’t doing you any good fat ass. They have to know. Your breasts are buoys. They don’t let on that they know, but they know.
I’m stepping off a curb. I’m staring passively at a sexy temptress in trendy clothes, the basic lack thereof being of the utmost significance. I wonder if she’s too beautiful to talk to. Is anyone too beautiful to talk to?
Tell her you’re one of those ‘Make a Wish’ kids. She might let you touch her boobies.
“I’m 27!” I said aloud.
“Good for you,” the sexy temptress shot back as she walked past. “That’s a real fucking achievement.”
Did I mention that I hate my narrator?
I need to fire my him because his story is way too boring; nothing ever happens. At least nothing good. I should climb inside my head and serve him his walking papers. "Good job to this point, but we're moving in a different direction."
“It’s not my fault your life sucks. You make all the decisions; I just do the play-by-play. If anybody has the right to complain, it’s me.”
“Consider yourself evicted.”
“I won’t leave.”
“What if I could promise you a better gig? John Malkovich? Jack Black? John Cusack? That’s some prime real estate there – very thoughtful, very analytical.”
“I’ll take my chances here.”
How is it that I know the conversation will turn out this way? My narrator tells me. In between encouraging me to pick a fight… Did that guy just mad dog you? Slap that trick. And assuring me I’d lose the fight. You wouldn’t last ten seconds.
I climb back inside my head. “Are you trying to get me killed?”
“You said you needed some excitement.”
“Bring it on, bitch!”
“I won’t lie. This is gonna hurt a little.”
And then I bumped into the wrong guy.