one trick pony

Toaster Strudels

The first time I met Bojack Horseman he was puking cotton candy off the deck of his lavish house in the hills, the lights of the city twinkling below us. Ashamed by his actions, he requested I leave that part out of the book.

On my first official day, I arrived at his grand, white doorstep. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of gin. The opening of his overpriced door gave way to the now intoxicating stench, and there was his scruffy roommate, Todd, lounging on the couch with a lazy grin—someone he opened his home too to stave off the crushing weight of loneliness. BoJack had a complicated relationship with solitude; the silence of an empty house was a stark reminder of his own inner turmoil. Todd, with his carefree attitude and constant presence, provided a buffer against the isolation that threatened to consume him.

The room was a chaotic blend of mismatched furniture and the soft hum of the coffee maker, creating a strange sense of comfort amidst the disorder. A woman was there too, looking out of place. She was skinny, with large fake lips and patchy bleeched blonde hair that fell in loose waves around her shoulders. There was a distant look in her eyes as if trying to piece together the night before. BoJack, clearly irritated, asked her why she was in his house. She casually mentioned that she had spent the night with him, her voice blending into the background noise of the city outside. BoJack, more annoyed than surprised, eventually kicked her out. She flipped him off as she left, grabbing the last toaster strudel on her way out, her departure punctuated by the slamming door.

Oddly enough, BoJack was more upset about the toaster strudel than the one-night stand. He had a way of brushing off emotions, fearing them, and instead fixated on trivial things to avoid confronting his deeper feelings. He spent the rest of the day obsessing over the missing toaster strudel, as if its absence symbolised something far more significant. It was a soft, chaotic introduction to a life that seemed perpetually on the edge of unraveling.