Bitch! [is an affectionate declaration from over a candle as thick as kavinsky's arm. that one is blackcurrant vanilla. mmmm. blackcurrant vanilla. he wafts his hand over it, then throws down the long-necked lighter with careless abandon. it bounces off the table, knocking random pens and unopened bills onto the floor.] You know if you'd let me put you up at a fucking sex hotel, I wouldn't have to decorate. [he gestures to underscore his suffering.
and then the next moment, he's running up across the floor, jumping up on the bed. whack. the whole mattress surges when his feet connect. he manages not to trample murphy. squashes him instead, flumping down on top of him, flat tummy and bony hip, half-falling and half-climbing him. the rough pads of his fingers are under the hem of murphy's shirt immediately, hiking underneath, spidering up his ribs.] As for Danny-boy? I had a feeling, [he says.] Like in another life, you like 'em tall and mean and straight-passing. Murdery. With some secret tortured poet going on, tragically hung up on vagina.
[he smiles like a knife, his hollow eyes brilliant by candle light.]
the one for me;
and then the next moment, he's running up across the floor, jumping up on the bed. whack. the whole mattress surges when his feet connect. he manages not to trample murphy. squashes him instead, flumping down on top of him, flat tummy and bony hip, half-falling and half-climbing him. the rough pads of his fingers are under the hem of murphy's shirt immediately, hiking underneath, spidering up his ribs.] As for Danny-boy? I had a feeling, [he says.] Like in another life, you like 'em tall and mean and straight-passing. Murdery. With some secret tortured poet going on, tragically hung up on vagina.
[he smiles like a knife, his hollow eyes brilliant by candle light.]
You don't think so?