King Dave Page #6

My mind is blank. Trying not to cry.

Oh man, getting all dizzy.

Are you sure you're alright?

It's the same girl!

Who is this?

F***in' therapist hired by the transport service?

David? That's your name?

How does she know my name?

How come you know my name?

Isabelle.

We met at parties.

Isabelle, friend of Marc, and Nat.

Oh! Yeah.

How are you doing?

I think I should be the one asking you.

Don't think I followed you. This is my stop.

Hey, you're really beaten up.

What happened to you?

Wiped out on my board.

Never been on a skateboard in my life!

I don't want to get into it with her.

Too long, too complicated.

She won't understand.

She's nice, but... disconnected.

Check this, now she's gonna ask me why I'm crying.

Are you crying because of Nathalie?

Your ex?

I was close.

So you know?

That's just f***in' great.

It makes it like official

when you hear it from someone else's mouth.

Now I'm f***in' down for the count. Yeah.

It's f***in' hard, but ya know.

Guess that's life.

Where are you going?

Well you know...

Just chilling a bit, walking.

I don't know why I said that.

Actually, I just feel like gettin' wasted.

Well, I was going to sleep.

But if you wanna come over

and have a beer you're welcome.

I got stiffed on a blind date tonight.

Which is like a stupid reason to drink compared to you.

But you know, it's a reason, right?

But you can only come if you stop

calling me "Man". OK?

The guy from the blind date must have been

really blind. 'Cuz Isabelle is really something!

I mean, one of the reasons I wasn't talkin' to her

was because she was too f***in' hot.

I figured she wouldn't wanna have

nothing to do with a guy like me.

But man, right then,

my f***in' soldier is like in full salute.

I tell myself that f***in' her

would probably be the best way to get back at Nat.

And get over these past few days.

OK. Good idea.

"Girl."

Tears stay stuck to the bubble gums.

Outside, the sky still above, reminding me

that I'm small, but... f***, man.

I decide not to stare up and that's it.

Sometimes, it just ain't complicated.

After you.

- Thank you.

Not sure how to say it.

It's like magic, you know.

Especially with this rain.

I really think that it can be easy sometimes.

Oh, the guy lets the buoy carry him to shore.

I fool around like that sometimes

when I'm with a chick.

We start walking to her place.

Nothing interesting being said.

Mostly like little stupid smiles and the feeling

that it's about to get better once there.

We're almost there.

Do you have roommates?

- Oh no. I hate that.

We hit the store for some beer, but she's gotta pay,

'cuz me, I didn't make a wallet appear since yesterday.

Quite a gentleman.

Sorry, man.

H's OK, David.

But stop callin' me "Man"!

And stop swearing all the time,

you sound like a teenager.

OK, it makes you charming,

not sure why.

But stop anyway.

You'll be just as charming, if not more.

Can I tell you that charming Dave

is gonna stop swearing.

It's here.

Hey...

Thank you.

That's OK, David.

Welcome to my place.

She gives me the tour of the crib.

A Louisville Slugger hits me

like a shot of loneliness in the face.

It just overpowers me, man,

it's really a girl's apartment.

The place smells good all over,

everything is nice.

The colors, the furniture, it's cozy, man.

You feel like takin' your clothes off,

sparkin' a blunt and kickin' back to some tunes, man.

Each room has its own little hand cream,

its own dried flower arrangement.

The bathroom is overflowing with products

that feel nice and smell nice.

Can you wait for me in the living room?

I'm gonna slip into something more comfortable.

Oh yeah, yeah, sure.

She's going to get comfy!

1-0 Dave.

Although she looked real f***in' sexy

in her blind date kit. The cleavage, man!

But it wasn't for me, I get it, man.

Respect, man, respect.

OK...

Let's hit the beer.

Oh, man! An orgy of pillows, man!

I hear her coming back and I turn around

like a guy seeing his bride on his wedding night.

F***, the nightie!

No, no, wait.

At least!

We hit the beer and start talkin' like old friends.

It's funny, no? We've been introduced to each other

at parties, but we never really talked.

Yeah. That's right.

Well actually, every time we met,

we've been introduced to each other.

That's how much we never talked before.

But now I don't know. I don't think about that.

It's like... like if you were an old friend.

And what happened before is like somebody else's past.

It's weird to explain.

We laugh, we have fun.

Beers are hitting the f***in' spot.

Loosening up what needs loosening.

She goes like...

Oh, wait!

The kind of "oh wait" that makes you "oh wait"

for something that ain't half-bad.

Smell this.

Smells good.

God damn this sh*t stinks!

Smells like a Hindu store!

I don't care, I don't give a f***, I feel good.

I want her. So bad, man!

But something is still keeping me from her bed:

the futon I'm sitting on.

I can see it comin'.

Like it's 3:
00 in the morning:

"I guess I'll go to sleep,

but you can sleep on the futon if you want."

No, no, no!

Objective. Problem. Solution.

So like a first class a**hole,

I stand up, fake like I'm fallin' over.

Oh f***! Hey, sorry. I'm sorry.

God, I'm really sorry.

If I'm sleeping here, it's in her bed.

Oh she won't know what hit her.

No, no, give me that, I'll fix it.

Want a shot'?

You bet I do!

Ask a horse if he likes oats!

Don't you think we'd be better on the floor?

On the pillows? Chill?

Yes, OK.

- Can I move the table?

Hey, sorry again for your futon.

Yeah right, as if I was sorry!

I'm the f***in' master for that type of sh*t.

To missed blind dates.

You're funny, David!

Generally speaking, girls that call me David

are interested in more than just a f***.

The second shot.

To our fairest encounter.

You're cute.

Generally speaking, when a guy is told "you're cute"

by a chick, she won't sleep with him.

"You're cute" is for dogs, cats and babies.

"You're cute", means nothing.

Now I'm completely f***ed up

and I don't know what she wants.

But the alcohol is still doin' the job.

Flashes of real hardcore sh*t goin' through my head.

Her little ass looks so tight.

Like Japanese tight.

Every sentence, every word out of my mouth

is designed toward an eventual f***.

Only thinking of her lips on my cock.

I'm thinking that Isabelle

could be more than just a f***.

She's not just a chick.

She's smart and sh*t.

And it doesn't mean she's fat, God no.

We've got like nothing left to say

but I respect her groove.

I just don't wanna get the cold shoulder.

The discomfort of thinking like "who's gonna go first"?

I call another shot

to kill the shyness that just came back.

T o shy mess!

Bad call?

No. Why? Are you shy?

No.

OK then, to the shyness you thought I felt but I don't.

But I can understand

how you could have thought that I did.

And I think it's so cute that you're shy.

Ah, you didn't wait for me.

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