it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

  • Mood:

Some people say he has a deathwish.

matociquala: So, Andre?

suaver_than_thou: At your command, dear author!

matociquala: Well, you see, that's rather the problem, isn't it?

suaver_than_thou: Beg pardon?

matociquala: My command. You're not at it.

suaver_than_thou: But I just said--

matociquala: I asked you three weeks ago now what your trauma was. Why you were so dead set on being Jean's student. Why you have to prove yourself to everybody.

suaver_than_thou: I don't have anything to prove.

matociquala: ...the urge to shoot back "Prove it," is pretty strong, but I'm going to resist. Nothing to prove, huh? Then where do the control issues come from? Whence the deep-seated need to prove yourself worthy of respect?

suaver_than_thou: I don't have any control issues. I have nothing to prove. I am a confident, well-dressed, competent man. With a gun.

matociquala: Which you feel the need to tell me about.

suaver_than_thou: ...

matociquala: In detail.

suaver_than_thou: I'm not sure I like this line of questioning.

matociquala: That's what it always comes down to, isn't it? I ask you a hard question, like "What's under the shell?" or "What's the source of your massive insecurity complex?" and you clam right up.

suaver_than_thou: Baloney. I'm talking to you now.

matociquala: For values of talking that equal stonewalling. You could just tell me what you think learning to conjure will get you. What's the payoff, Deschenes? You have a career--okay, it's a fucking stupid way to earn a living, but you're good at it--all the women you want, prestige of a sort...

suaver_than_thou: (mumble)

matociquala: I'm sorry, did you say something about Cricket?

suaver_than_thou: She doesn't love me.

matociquala: Nope. She doesn't. You know why?

suaver_than_thou: (sulks)

matociquala: Because Cricket is broken, too. But not as broken as you are. And, Andre... in case you've forgotten?

matociquala: Honey, you shoot people.

suaver_than_thou: They deserve it.

matociquala: More of your self-justification. Go tell it on the mountain. Or in the swamp in your case, for that matter. Look, either you're going to tell me what the problem is, of I'm going to keep you here all night. I already know it's not Daddy Trauma, because you were way too eager to let me think it was.

suaver_than_thou: (unintelligible)

matociquala: You wish. Angelo is way slicker than you, and I got it out of him eventually.

suaver_than_thou: Angelo's a pansy.

matociquala: Well, yes, technically true enough. Wouldn't stop him from kicking your ass back to Texas, though, sonny.

suaver_than_thou: I hate you.

matociquala: Aww. Only because I'm right.

matociquala: You know you'll crack eventually. Come over here, sit on mama's knee, tell me a little story. I won't hurt you.

matociquala: Come on, Andre. Just a little sugar.

suaver_than_thou: I'd rather kiss a Wookiee.


***
Tags: the writer at work, undertow
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