CELL PHONE NOISE
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Star of social and all the other kinds of media John Mayer speaking.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t answer the phone that way. What if the person calling is a much bigger star of social and the other kinds of medias?”
“Media is already plural, Katy. And I’m not talking to you.”
“Why, John?”
“You know why.”
“Blowing up your house with the cruise missiles?”
“No. I mean: yes. But no.”
“It’s not the herpes, is it? I keep telling you that I didn’t give you herpes, John. I gave it back to you.”
“Not the herpes.”
“Did I steal your backup dancers? If I did, then I understand your anger, John. Stealing backup dancers is unforgivable.”
“You have a thing about that.”
“Fuck that skinny bitch.”
“I did.”
…
“Maybe I should call Russell again.”
“How could you go back to him, Katy? He’s just the worst.”
“Any reader of the tabloids could tell you I enjoy making the same romantic mistakes over and over. You, for example.”
“I thought we were soulmates.”
“Soulmates, John!? You left me all alone in this casino–”
“The Luxor, which you own for some reason.”
“–and I got bored. So, first I wore clothes.”
“That’s what I do when I’m bored. Good work, Katydoodle.”
“Don’t call me that. But wearing clothes didn’t work, John!”
“Did you buy some expensive bullshit?”
“I had Bugatti make me a one-woman submarine.”
“Wow.”
“And, you know: we’re in the middle of the desert, so I have absolutely no use for it. Maybe I’ll take it down to that joint with the shark tank and bother fish, but otherwise the thing is a bust.”
“Sub got a name?”
“The Goin’ Down.”
“Nice. Very on-brand.”
“Right: bawdy, but not dirty. Anyway: it’s sitting in the parking lot. I think there’s a guy living in it.”
“Hippie?”
“Yes.”
“That’s Soup. He’s all right.”
“So, John: I wore clothes, and then I bought expensive bullshit I didn’t need. But I was still bored and lonely without you!”
“Aw.”
“So I dated.”
“You love to date!”
“So do you!”
“It was the first thing we had in common.”
“Oh, no, John. You know you’re my type.”
“Please don’t say–”
“Tall, dark, and douchey.”
“–tall, dark, and…yeah, that. You’re really full of mixed signals, Katy.”
“I hate owning a casino, John. It’s boring and hard, like a Russian novel with a boner. Do you know what casinos are made out of?”
“Concrete? Steel?”
“Math. It’s all math, John. The entire building is made out of math. Probability, statistics, game theory, profit margin: the carpets are fractals, John. It’s all math and I may or may not have gone to high school.”
“That doesn’t sound fun.”
“And so many germs, John.”
…
“So many germs.”
“No. Oh, no. No. We are not doing the Howard Hughes bit.”
“Oh, John, I’m not going to pee in tissue boxes and invent the airplane–”
“Close.”
“–I’m stating a fact: all of these people in the casino have skin made of doody. They’re just so dirty.”
“Oh, sure, yeah. Just don’t get all germaphobic.”
“One cannot be simultaneously be a germaphobe and invite John Mayer to bed.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“I made you something, John.”
“What? Yeah? That’s sweet.”
“Hold on.”
TEXT MESSAGE NOISE
“Look, John! I drew your dad.”
“Katy, Bobby isn’t my father.”
“Yes, John. He is. It was foreshadowed a while ago and it’s going to be a storyline soon. Probably the next time you two take a bunch of pictures together. But, yeah: John, he is your father.”
…
“It would explain a lot.”
“Yeah. Okay, John: come to the Luxor.”
“Is that limey dipshit gone?”
“Yes, John. I had forgotten how awful he was, but then I looked at him and also he started to talk. So much theatrical gesturing, John.”
“The worst. Oh, hey. Katy?”
“Yes, Johnnycakes?”
“Wow, yeah. I see why you hate ‘Katydoodle.’ Don’t call me that. Anyhoo: is Kim Jong-Un there?”
“Yeah, hold on.”
“Wait, I don’t wanna talk to–”
“Hot Dog Dick!”
“Goddammit.”
“Where you at, bro? Party is off hook! Katy comp. Big suite. One room Kim. One room posse. One room bitches.”
“That sounds great, man. Listen, about hanging out. I am SO busy, and I was just thinking–
“One room nuke.”
…
“I’m on my way.”
“This third act, Hot Dog Dick. Clock ticking. We chill or Vegas burn.”
DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE
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