ELEANOR
Randy hate trees. He hate trees so passionate that when the Internet journalize about the wholesale defenestration of the Amazon rain jungle, Randy, he consider that to be a fine and noble term of events.
Mostly, pine trees. He hate the way a pine tree move: It move slow, then move fast. First so excoriating slow you forget it always be moving. That the method a tree get its tonnage of board feet up higher and higher until it be zeroed-in, right on top a person's head. After that, a pine tree move fast, like booby-trap fast. Too fast to perception.
Leastwise, Randy daddy never perception it coming. Postdating a lifetime of setting choke and pulling green chain, Randy daddy already be living on bothered time. One fast move, and all that raw lumber smatter the hairy dome of his thin skull to a billion bloody fractions.
Randy figure he got better things to do than set around, and maybe get landed on by a hundred tons of celluloid fiber. Randy hate Oregon.
Randy transpire to live someplace pink stucco where trees don't never enter into the picture. Randy, he pocket the life assurance money, and stow his pit bull in his car. He steer south, exacerbating faster and faster the whole way, like if a pack of vapid wolfhounds be perusing his Randy ass.
In California, the reality agent point her eyeballs at Randy ride: a Celica tricked out with twice the blue book worth in aftermarket chrome. And the regent, she take note of Randy pit bull. Such standard, confessional rebellions. The regent readily exhume Randy shave head, and his fresh-inked facial taboo be leaking blood still. The regent prop open her laptop and recede to source a pirate download. She tell Randy, "Dawg." She say, "Dawg, you go be so skinny on this crib."
The reality agent, she be name Gazelle.
And Gazelle laptop play a movie before Randy prolapsed eyeballs. It be explicit content burn from content burn from content burn from content burn from content, one thousand generation remove from anything paid good money for. The regent say, "Dawg." She say, "Dawg, this be entitle Run and Hide Little White Girl, IV."
Said movie be starring Jennifer-Jason Morrell. She betray a blond sneak thief out to brutalize a fly crib where a dozen bro dawgs capitulate to respire. The bro dawgs be metastasizing in bed after a brash, all-nighter of Rémy Martin–fueled fecundity. The plot commence when Jennifer-Jason, she allege to obfuscate the gold linkage off from around said dozing necks. It not until those big, hot-blooded bro dawgs wake up—understandably eviscerated—that said movie be hit it stride.
It be pink stucco on the outside, the house in the film. A swimming pool fill the backyard, with one edge where the carbonated waters appear to gently spill out into infamy. Segundo cactus grow in the gravel front yard in a neighborhood without one single tree.
On the walk-through, the reality agent, Gazelle, she point out the specialty features, including the two-story entryway failure with white-marble floorage. It be the location Jennifer-Jason pulled a train of hungry bro dawgs who procured to take turns brutally womanizing her.
Randy and the reality agent, they only stand and awe. Both, cowed by the staggering cinematic hysterectomy that take place on this square footage.
He be immolating deep, Randy, he say, "Sister dawg, I can smell the hypocrisy!"
And Gazelle, she say, "Dawg, when you take ownership. You be selling tickets and be gilding gilded tours."
Gazelle mentor that this white-marble floorage, right here, be an ideal placement to location a Christmas tree. Still, Randy, he hate trees, alive or dead.
The reality agent, she persist on promenading Randy through the futility room, the pouter room, a walled-in closet, the reckless nook, the tedium room, and the nifty home offense, when Randy already be sold. Randy only want to know if there be room for a dog run. Randy point his finger to eradicate his dog, an American Bull terrier. Her name be Eleanor.
