she typed to me from her bathtub
i dont remember anything thanks to the xbi but i was trying to recall her typewritten love note from somewhere.
dear tony pierce
i am writing to you from my tub.
she was beautiful of course. they all are.
we had just opened up a video store a few blocks away from the biggest counterfeiter in all los angeles. the fbi had no luck and we told them if they let us try something for a week, we would provide proof that he passed paper if we could keep half of the paper.
for educational purposes.
we had a soft opening for the neighbors last friday night. there was champagne. free movie coupons. won tons.
then we had a grand opening with balloons on saturday, starring a few a-list celebs who owed us.
and then we opened our doors for reals this week and nobody came.
i told everyone we needed to call the place sixty nine anytime and rent the dvds for 69 cents. but somewhere in the middle of the sting, the idiots wanted to turn a profit on the place, lest we’d seem suspicious.
so today i leaned against the spotless, brand new slate table top waiting for someone to ring the tinkley bells as they came through the front door and i thought of her.
well its the middle of the afternoon and im feeling a warm buzz from the glass of wine ive just polished off.
you see i am feeling melodramatic because my power has been turned off and instead of quietly accepting these unfortunate circumstances with dignity and/or grace, i am brooding, smoking, near tears, listening to a MUSIC BOX and typing you a letter.
internet or no
i still love you
i tried to remind them that the object was to sign everyone up in the neighborhood, collecting everyones drivers license numbers, names, addresses, socials, credit card numbers, emergency contacts, birthdays, and childrens names and eventually build enough community in the mini market video store that the big fish would think hes in a small pond and make a mistake that would cost him everything.
disney titles in the front, video games on the sides, new flicks in the back, porn behind the curtain, and baseball cards under glass.
our man, we had learned, loved to collect baseball cards.
indeed, i have taken billions of sad pictures of myself and several billion superCLOSEups ofn my piano.
which i cant play.
because the mutherfucker is digital.
nevertheless… wgere us nt whisky when i need it.
i thought about my new bride but i also thought about her. i knew this would happen. my mind has to be racing at all times. i have to be on on on on thinking making fucking talking rocking stalking mocking remembering and i was remembering that she drew a picture of a man with sunglasses and his hands in his pockets and i remembered one of the pictures that she enclosed and i remember thanking blogger for making it all happen
when the front door tingalinged and there he was taking off his sunglasses and stopping dead in his tracks in front of the little case that held the steve garvey dodger cards from the seventies surrounded by davey lopes cards ron cey cards dusty baker don sutton and manny mota cards.
the bill russell cards had been stolen
for some reason.
we were the only video store that didnt have any videos playing on televisions. i was listening to nevermind, a cd that i hadnt listened to since september eleventh because for some reason grunge sounded perfect that dark twisted gloomy confusing fucked up day.
But the point is, not that i am a whiney baby,
but that i still love you
and he put down a handful of garvey cey and lopes cards, asked about our membership and i told him that if he signed up this week that he’d get his first ten rentals free.
and he plucked a pen out of the innocent enough looking dixie cup of brand new cheap bic disposable blue pens
peeled a New Membership form from the pad
and proceeded to write down everything that we needed to know about him. the only thing we were lacking. next to his license plate number, was which part of his wifes ass she likes to get slapped.
his mothers maiden name was la vista. i thought. interesting.
teresa clicked a few photos of the vin number of his black hummer since he liked to keep the dealers plates on it.
teresa x pierce
[ signature ]
i made an imprint of his credit card, had him sign it, wrote “not to exceed $250”, gave him back the credit card and drivers license, and laminated the membership card while he smiled pretty at teresa when she pushed the front door open and walked into the store tingalingalingating
pretending to be a customer
high heels short dress unconvincing smile
and fake tits
like all her girlfriends
Maybe if i dont get anything turned back on i’ll become Very proficent in typing and taking pictures and drawing
in the dark. love you.
and i handed him two coupons entitling him to 50% off any purchase over $50
but he wasnt listening
he was checking my partner out