Caligula and Caesar's American Adventure

USA: My Arse (Cae)

Is it bad that holding Cali’s hand in the lift made me feel kinda … safe? I dunno, it’s not like she’s at all safe. She’s the opposite, the lunatic, but it’s not like I know anyone else in this crazy country. She’s the only friendly (well, familiar) face for what, three thousand miles all around?

I kinda feel sorry, only a bit, for dragging her all the way over to Sax. Everyone talks about it so much, I just thought it might sell some goddamn wotsits. I cannot explain how much I’m craving those cheesy buggers. Cali eventually relented and took me to Walmart to get some “cheese puffs” (what’s with everything being so literal?) but who is she trying to kid? They’re not the same. Oh, and can you get in trouble for dropping a penny off the empire state building? I bloody hope not.

I have no fucking idea why we’re heading up though. I mean, I know we’re doing the whole of America, but what’s in Maine? Cali says we’re going through Connecticut – which I always pronounce wrong – and Rhode Island, which I only know from Family Guy, then Massachusetts and New Hampshire. I hope Cali has a plan because I sure as fuck don’t. I’m still not quite sure why I’m here. I always wanted to go on a road trip and I always wanted to come to America, I just never thought it would happen, and certainly not with a murderous psychopath like Cali. She has nearly gone up the arse of at least five other cars and we’ve been flipped off probably thirty times already. It’s kinda fun.

You know, I’ve been in this country for, what, a few hours and I’m already a bit scared. It’s so. Fucking. Huge. I’m used to the rambling countryside, where London is like this huge looming thing. Compared to NYC, London’s, like, a fucking ant or some tiny shit. Plus, I don’t think Cali has this weird little thing called sympathy, or maybe compassion.

Cali: “Quit moaning like a little bitch. Be proud to be in the land of the fucking free.”

Me: “It’s just really big. You’re not exactly reassuring.” {She patted my knee at this point. I felt like such a goddamn toddler and a princess at the same time.}

Cali: “Well, so’s your fanny and you’re not complaining.”

Me: “Jesus Christ! Low blow! That’s kind of unneces- oh, you mean my arse.”

Cali: “No, I mean your fucking ass. Jesus, live in the country, learn the language.”

Me: “I speak English, Little Miss USA. Don’t forget, America’s only been America for, like, two hundred and fifty years. We used to own your blinking arse so suck on that.”

Cali: “Suck my dick.”

Me: “My pleasure. Shame I need a microscope.” {Never mind the fact that Cali doesn’t and never has had a dick.}

Anyway, all you need to know is Cali’s driving to Connecticut and I’m so fucking hungry but all she wants is ice cream. Seriously. Ice cream. Who even likes that shit?