Amber Night

Not that I deserve your forgiveness.  Not after what I did.  It’s ruined…all ruined, and it’s all my fault.

There’s absolutely no explanation for my behavior.  I am a bad, bad person.  God, I don’t even know how I can live with myself.  And really, why should I?  I should just…I don’t know…

Oh god, and now it’s leaked:

He just wanted eggs.  He told me the day before, and again that evening when I was chaining him back to the sleeping post.  “Amber, this roast is very important to me,” he said.  “And the perfect start to the perfect day is a nice plate of scrambled eggs.”  Is that so fucking hard?  I mean…it’s not even like I had to pull it out of the chicken’s ass…this time.  (Oh god there was so much blood…)  It’s not like we’re living in that stupid cabin in the hills anymore.  We’re in an abandoned factory now.  There’s a goddamned Ralph’s just a half mile away.  How could I be so STUPID?!?!

Bob, honey, you know how I don’t think so good since I stopped taking my meds?  Well I walked the aisle for hours…”what was it again?  Breakfast food, right?”  In the end I came back with a bag of pinto beans, a Woman’s Day magazine, some Big League Chew, a bottle of calamine lotion, and ironically, 2 packs of L’eggs because I wanted to look nice for the big day.  You were right hon, you can’t cook a fucking pair of nylons up in a frying pan.  I know that now.  I do.

It didn’t help that I kept asking you in the car, “do you know your lines?  Do you?  Maybe we should go over them again.  I mean, I know you wrote them, and you’d been studying them for hours on the studying rack, but…I don’t know…I just thought maybe one more reading would have been good.  I get a little compulsive like that, I know I do, and god Bob, I’m just so sorry.  Maybe we could have just gone over the lines one more time, you know?

I knew Grammy’s incontinence didn’t allow for shoots over 12 hours, but she was so looking forward to it.  You kept telling me to get a professional actress, but did I listen?  No, I didn’t, and now it’s all ruined, just like the chair they pulled her out of.

To be fair though Bob, I had no idea the bird was in therapy for conflict avoidance issues.  I’m not saying it was your fault, because it wasn’t.  It was completely my fault, and I should have checked into his background more.  I’m just saying that sometimes you come across a little intimidating, you know?  Oh, but—haha!—this is funny: when you called him a cunt, he actually popped out an egg!  Isn’t that funny?  Haha!  Because…you know…you wanted eggs, and…well…you’re right, it wasn’t really funny at all.

And I don’t even know what to say about the set.  You’re right.  It was all fake.  I told them Bob.  I told them “Bob wants a REAL set.”  I told them, and I told Ari “Bob only works on real sets,” but he just kept saying “are you sure Bob knows his lines?”  And I was all like “of course Bob knows his lines, he fucking WROTE them!”  I did get Full House girl though.  I did it for you hon, I was hoping to surprise you.  I mean…I did good there, didn’t I?  Huh?

I’m just so sorry Bob.

This entry was posted on Monday, August 18th, 2008 at 9:39 am and is filed under Amber's Brain. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.