Fragments (Unfinished, unedited, first draft)

"You are a tailored polyester suit, a Cubic zirconia set in platinum, a Frolex, for Christ's sake."

"A Frolex? What's a Frolex?"

"A fake Rolex. A knock off, you imbecile."

"You know, you're one-hundred per cent wrong. I'm nothing if I'm not a man of substance. Take into account my success-"

"-Monetary success."

"-Yeah, so?"

"So? That's precisely why I call you a Frolex. Listen, ever since you were little you've connived and manipulated. To what end? You've failed in everything besides your career."

"Entirely untrue. I haven't failed. They've failed me, time and time again. Take Prussia, for starters, lets go way back!"

She was a beauty, that long blonde hair and crystal blue eyes. More curves than an Austrian summit... and stupid. Utterly vapid. Birds would nest in her brain. She thought their chirping was an army of men bent on driving her insane, pushing the unlock buttons on their key less entry devices. As long as she didn't speak much (thankfully her bad English was peppered with unknown Norse dialects and wasn't understood, anyway) she was a thing to behold. That Troy bitch, Helen, had nothing on Prussia. I chased her for the better part of two years. When she finally agreed, I picked her up and couldn't contain my desire. She was a sight to behold in a too short red dress and plunging neckline.

Sitting at the drive-in, I began to devour the beauty. Yeah, I was hard with teenage lust and felt confined in my fly. I opened up and received my first real, albeit partial, blow job. My hands scoured her back, I yanked the zipper and peeled her right out of all that red, exposing an enormous, silver bra, clasped in the center by a five digit combination lock. It winked at me in the gleam of the projector's light.

'What!' I shrieked, lurching back. 'What the hell is that?!'

'Oh!' She answered as happily as ever, 'this, my father makes me this! He likes to say boy cannot get to boobies, boy does not want to get to yum-yum.'

"That didn't happen."

"It absolutely did so happen."

"Nesting birds in her brain? A combination locked chastity bra?"

"You think I'd make this up? Prussia was nuttier than all three of my wives put together. And her dad, no offense to primates, was a gorilla."

"There you go again."

"There I what again?"

"You're establishing an existence based solely on imagination. Remember, Fro, I was there. Miss Prussia despised you. She considered you below ferret quality, right between a rat and horseshit. She was definitely not stupid, either. If you recall, she had that thick, sexy Norwegian accent which you found irresistible. You couldn't handle her rejection. She refused to coddle that enormous ego and you retaliated by creating a fantasy where she was a wretch and you the heroic, if not misunderstood, victor. Yeah, it's a hilarious story and fit in your second novel quite nicely but reality? Only in your warped sense of it. The only life a chastity bra like that would have, would be on paper and even then, it would only stand as a metaphor of your distant longing and her blatant rejection. No matter what you did, you couldn't get in."

"See? That's what you know! Her dad hand crafted that thing, paying, night after night, into his obsession with his daughter's virginity. Shit. What are you even doing here? You haven't showed yourself in at least five years. Why the visit, why now?"

"You really have to ask?"

"...yes, I really have to ask."

"Christ, Fro-"

"Stop calling me that."

"Would you prefer I call you Dick?"

"Dick? DICK! C'mon, Colby, if you please."

"You're a squat catholic from Brooklyn, you were a freakin' altar boy, for Chrissakes! Dick, Richard, your birthname is rather suitable, doncha' think? Your parents obviously did. Good enough for their lips to utter, good enough for mine. Even Dick is a lie, however, and for only the sole purpose of my own enjoyment, I'll continue with Fro. Now, think back, brilliant, what happened five years ago?"

"I met Linda."

"You met Linda, yup."

"Ok, oh wise sage, what the hell does meeting my third wife have anything to do with your return?"

"Oh, man, you are thick. You still refuse to see. You refuse to understand. Meeting Linda was the catalyst for my departure, not my return. You finally had something real. She was not a caricature, drawn from the pages of your incessant imaginary worlds. She was as real as any of the hookers you've spent your fortune on, only she gave you something tangible, meaningful and I finally felt confident enough in your choice to take that long needed vacations. Brother, I explored among Mayan ruins, tasted the sweet nectar of the Italian vineyards, swam with dolphins in the Keyes and studied philosophy among the ancients in Greece, all while you basked in the glory of your one, healthy relationship. But, and there's always a but, no matter how big, I'm back to tell you I've had enough of your self destruction. After all, you go... I go."

"So, I'm to blame, then? As you just confessed, you were off gallivanting and had no idea what that marriage turned into. She went cold, sickly fucking sour cold."

"She went cold? That's it? That's your excuse?"

"It's not an excuse, DOC, it's fact. Do your homework next time."

"...Doc, huh, heh, that makes me laugh, a little, and makes me want to vomit endlessly. Fro, I wouldn't be here if that was the whole truth. But, just like your mind, your reality is fragmented. Three words: Linda's Little Sister."

"Joanie? So? I craved her! A dull, lackluster marriage would derail even the most stoic monogamist!"

"You're lying, again. You couldn't resist Joanie's full lips or long, curly red hair. You practically drooled over her at their father's funeral. You seduced her, began an affair and dear Linda, stable, loving, gentle Linda grew cold only in response. What more could you expect?"

"You're right because No Man could have resisted. I acted as anyone else."

"What, by fucking her in their parents' house, the eve of the funeral in Linda's bed? If that's not putting a loaded gun to your head, I don't know what is."

"Cleverly dramatic, eh? For your information... I despise guns."

"And when Linda and their Great Aunt Mary came up to see what all the noise was about, you had the audacity to humiliate her further by claiming you and Joanie were practicing nude Calisthenics!"

"It was a popular fad!"

"STOP! Stop right there-"

"What the hell is this? Are you channeling a Dickensian character? Oh, spirit, show me the way so I can change before I'm doomed to Eternal Damnation!"

"You don't believe in Eternal Damnation."

"Right. So what's the point of this walk down Ghosts of Fucks Past Lane?"

"Because you enjoy self destruction. You are only satisfied when you're royally screwing yourself and the hapless women around you. I don't want to fucking disappear. Like I said, Einstein, you go, I go and I'm not ready to go. Fro, you're missing a very important piece of the puzzle, here."

"Well, you're not an invisible six-foot, three-and-one-half-inch tall rabbit, but I get your point. Linda was great. I know. I often return to that wonderful night when the skyscrapers were hidden by a fuming blizzard. Electricity had faltered all over the city and we hunkered down under Great Aunt Mary's heavy quilt. We read Plato by candlelight, drank ourselves silly with red wine and dined on fine cheese and grapes."

"You reflect on that evening because it embodies your romanticism. Once the lights turned on, however, you threw the quilt aside, got up and meandered behind your monitor for five hours, never giving a second thought to Linda."