Adult World Page #6

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them in my purse.

Them in my purse.

I don't know why. I'm sorry.

- Um, here you go.

- What were they doing in your bag?

Okay. Are you gonna be mad?

I'm already mad.

I thought that it was trash,

like, doodles or something.

Do I look like a doodler to you?

- Not now you don't.

- Okay, so, that's bullshit.

I thought it would be cool to have

something of yours for when you die.

I'm not gonna die...

Ever!

You idiot.

I really wouldn't have taken

them if I thought they were important.

All right, look.

You can have that one.

Thank you.

This is really good.

This one's...

You should keep this one.

This one's really good.

You were so young when you

became famous.

You and rimbaud, both so talented,

and younger than I am now.

Fame's your generation's

black plague, kid.

That's really good.

Who said that?

I did just now, me.

I said that to you.

Alex hates me.

Men are really delicate.

They get their feelings hurt easy.

- Oy!

- Here.

I want my job back.

- You like Alex.

- What?

That's absurd.

You're all like,

"what's tomorrow gonna be like?

And what will people think of me?"

You're gonna be blind

to what's right in front of you.

Forever is comprised of "nows."

Emily Dickinson, b*tch.

Get my fat toe.

Hey...

Alex.

Are you here to rent a movie?

- No.

- Then, you'll have to excuse me,

because I have a very

patient customer waiting.

- You want a 3- or a 5-day rental?

- What do the green dots mean?

- Uh..

- What do the green dots mean?

Alex, I'm sorry.

I am not too good to work here,

and I didn't mean

any of those things that I said.

Do you have the antimicrobial

anal beads?

Sorry, buddy, we're all sold out.

There should be more coming in

Monday, though.

I'm not better than this, and

I don't think working here is for losers.

I want my job back.

Why?

So, I can find out who puts

the dots on.

Do you have any of those

leather masks that are flame-retardant?

- What the f*** is with...

- No, we don't. I'm sorry.

- She took the last one.

- They're awesome.

I'm gonna let you deal with that

'cause that's your punishment.

Thanks.

- What's your name?

- Max.

Max.

Max...Max.

"Cougar Den."

"Dorm Girls."

This is the wrong Max, isn't it?

Mm-hmm.

Hey, I brought you some turtlenecks.

- Thanks, mom.

- You're welcome. They're all-cotton.

Dad says hi.

- Does he hate me?

- Mm-hmm.

We both do.

No, he doesn't hate you.

We love you, but we're a little

worried about you.

What?! I'm fine.

I have a good job now. I mean things...

Things are really looking up.

But are you happy?

Mother, an artist's life...

It really is a life of solitude.

That is, um, bullshit.

It's almost your birthday.

Let's just plan a party, okay?

You haven't had a birthday party

for a while.

Dad wants to see you.

I want to meet your friends.

I always used to meet your friends.

I'll make you a cake.

What kind of cake do you want?

- Cheese.

- I can do that... cheesecake.

- Anything else?

- Sprinkles.

Good!

That's... now we're talking.

Rainbow, not chocolate.

It's gonna be fun.

You're very skinny.

I'll make you two cakes.

- Whoo!

- Yay!

Whoa-ho! Happy Birthday!

Hello?

- Hi!

- Hi.

- I'm so happy you came.

- We just thought we'd stop by.

Sorry we didn't wait for cake.

- Happy Birthday.

- Thanks.

This is my friend yumi.

She's a theoretical linguist.

This is Amy,

the girl that I told you about.

Um, do you want some cake or

something?

- Sure.

- Drinks?

- Yeah.

- This is my family.

- This is rat.

- You must be Mrs. Anderson.

- How are you?

- No, I am Mrs. Anderson.

I know!

Todd Anderson.

- Nice to see you.

- Hello. Nice to meet you.

- What's your name?

- Rubia.

- I'm sorry?

- Rubia.

Rubia.

- Hi.

- Alex.

- Alex.

- Would you like something to drink?

Yeah, do you have any wine?

- Sure do, yeah.

- 'Cause I think yumi likes wine.

- Red is fine.

- Okay.

And I'll have... do you have coffee?

- We have coffee.

- And red wine for the yumi,

- and can you bring the cake cutter?

- You need a cake cutter.

- So, a cake cutter and...

- Yeah.

That was really amazing,

what you did for Amy.

I haven't done anything to Amy.

Well, no, but you see how

talented she is.

That's amazing.

For a girl like her, there's

nothing she wants more.

She's a good kid.

She's just, as my father used to say,

"free of all knowledge."

Ho-ho-ho-ho!

Somebody knows what they're doing.

This is for you.

I don't want you to open it

in front of everybody,

'cause then they're like,

"oh, it's from Alex" and "what is it?"

You know, that's weird.

"Letters to a young poet."

Yeah.

I know you probably read that, like...

a thousand times, but...

No, I haven't.

I haven't read this one.

Sweet.

Score.

"Amy, Happy Birthday.

I thought of you when I saw this."

No! Shh! No.

You're not gonna read that.

No.

I'm a dork.

It's embarrassing.

Thank you. I love it.

- You're welcome.

- Seriously, it's a really good present.

- Where's Rat?

- He had to leave, honey.

- Seriously?

- Yeah, but he left you a present.

"Here it is... Rat."

It's a galley of the book that I'm in.

Oh, my gosh! Open it!

Open it!

- I can't do it.

- I got nails.

Careful with the paper, please.

Let me see.

"Sh*t poetry... an anthology of bad verse,"

edited by rat billings.

Well, what is this?

My poem.

"Hilariously awful"...

Joan Didion.

"So bad, it's good"...

Zadie Smith.

"So terrible, I laughed and then I cried"...

Jonathan Franzen.

Oh, my God,

Jonathan Franzen!

Amy...

Amy?

Amy?

- Amy, come on.

- Amy!

Amy, stop.

Amy.

Come on, honey, it's your birthday.

Amy, it's really not that bad!

Honey?

Aaahhhh!

You miserable son of a b*tch!

Where are you?

- Problem?

- "Sh*t poetry"?!

- "An anthology of bad verse"?!

- It's just a Silly,

little book for the urban outfitters.

You know, hipsters are gonna love it.

They're gonna be reading my

poetry while taking a sh*t!

You said you wanted to be

published, didn't you?

Not in a book that people are gonna

read while they're on the toilet!

How do you think I feel? It's probably

gonna outsell everything I've ever written.

Aahhh!

All right.

Who anointed you the arbiter

of poetic quality, anyway, huh?!

It's not quality. It's poetry that's so bad,

it goes around the world, and it's

The Rat billings that I admired?

He is dead!

You're a big, fat phony,

and you know what?

You're old!

You're an old, phony man!

That's what you are!

An old phony!

An old, washed-up phony!

Why?!

I want to know why you would do

this to me?! Why?!

Why?! Why?!

Because somebody needs to

tell you the goddamn truth, Amy.

I thought truth was subjective.

No, it's not subjective.

Not everybody can grow up to be

beyonc or the president.

Not everybody's talented, okay?

And fame doesn't mean sh*t.

Amy, if everything was great,

nothing would be great.

- Nothing would be special.

- I am special!

I got straight A's!

I scored in the 97th percentile S.A.T.S!

Thank you very much!

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