Worst Case Scenario Handbook
Kill him, it says, drop his body into a vat of acid. Smash his head in with a cricket bat and leave his carcass for carrion.
This morning I wake up early to head to work only to find Kittie's bed unoccupied. Well, well, well. How interesting. She went out the night before with my cousin, Jesse, and now her bed is empty.
Blood, whisperers the sightless thing, drench the world in blood. Connect electrodes to the genitals of criminals.Tear out the fingernails of strangers walking their pets. Shoot innocent people in cafeterias.
OK. So that "ancient creature of pain and misery" phase lasted only for a few minutes. Maybe hours. But by the time I got the inevitable WE NEED TO TALK text message I was pretty cool about the whole situation.
The situation being: someone I no longer go out with has decided to seek out a relationship with my cousin. Preventable? Sure. But what would be the point? Its clearly obvious that the ex and I were not working as a couple. We were just bad at being together, it brought out the worst in us. And when you break up with someone you break up with 'em. If the relationship is on shoddy foundations, rotten somewhere in the core, then its going to topple no matter how much you try. Don't I want my loved ones to be happy? And if they happen to find joy in each others' company then....well...
By the time Kittie came home I was busy watching a penguin documentary, seeing the momentous journey that these birds were undertaking and saying 'Wow.' every once in a while. This was the BBC version and not the Morgan Freeman one. I couldn't help but think that it would be a better show if someone like Will Ferrell did the voice over.
A sea lion grabs one of the young penguins and drags him down the icy depths.
'So....you wanted to talk?'
Vats of acid.
Intestines as skipping rope.
'Alright. Let's talk.'
'He...er...wants to do it himself.'
'He can call me. I don't hate him. Or you. What is he worried about? That I'd chop him up and feed his remains to carnivores? Ha ha. As if.'
Blowtorch to the gonads.
'I thought you were going to be...you know...weird about it.'
'I am weird about it. He's my cousin.'
'You guys aren't actually related,' Kittie reminds me.
'That's besides the point. Look, you and me, we're through...'
'Shut up. The point is Jesse's a fantastic guy. Even though he is shorter than me. And got that Bruce Campbell chin. And I'm funnier than he is. And better at Galaga than him. But I'd much rather you be with someone I care about and who'd treat you well than some dipshit goofball. With syphilis.'
It's a strange situation. For me, its a nice way to finish my relationship with Kittie. No. Not relationship. Love life? Something like that. Something tacky and shit and dumb that you'd read in women's magazines (that YOU'D read. Not me. I'm too macho). I can't help but feel like Gene Hackman in the Royal Tennenbaums about the whole situation. Remember that film? Wes Anderson directed it. Gene plays a guy called Royle who was the patriarch of this genius family. One of his finest performances, which is funny considering Hackman didn't actually get the film. He just read the lines and got paid. Anyway, Royle, who fakes a terminal illness and takes up residence with his family that have long since kicked him out for generally shoddy behaviour (constantly reminding his adopted daughter that she's adopted, stealing money from his son's business etc.) tries for most of the film to win back his long estranged wife (played by Angelica Houston). But by the end of the film he slowly realises that he is actually an asshole and that his wife would be better off with a divorce that he had neglected to give her years ago. He talks of his rival, Danny Glover who plays Angelica Houston's accountant/ fiancee by saying, 'I didn't think much of him at first. But now I get it. He's not me.'
And that's how I feel right about now.