Eat, Sleep and F*#k…My interview with a mountain lion
For some reason, which I’m fairly certain has direct ties to my LSD-addled youth, I routinely dream some pretty weird shit.
Stuff you can’t make up.
Last night was no different.
We’re in a well-lit studio somewhere. There’s a cameraman and lighting crew. Two large chairs are in the room, one bright orange velvet, the other leopard print. A large bottle of Voss drinking water sits atop a small occasional table. I think it’s for me.
Has my staff made you comfortable?
I see you’re sitting on the floor. Was the chair not to your liking? It looks a little shredded.
The chair was too cushy and it looked like my cousin, fucking creepy. Anyway, I prefer a branch or a big rock or something, but the floor will do nicely, thanks.
You ready to get started?
Let start with your name? I presume mountain lions have names?
[condescending look] Really?
Sorry. Let’s try that again. My name is Diego, and yours?
Just Jerry? No last name?
[annoyed look] Again with this?
Well Jerry, tell me about your typical day. What you do? What kind of things mountain lions do with their lives?
Generally Diego, I like to eat, sleep and fuck, not in any particular order. I know you humans have this ritualized regimen whereby you sleep at night, eat three meals a day, shit at three o’clock, and beg for sex. But our rituals are a tad different.
Tell me about your rituals?
I don’t have rituals per sé. I do sleep alot, but that’s mainly to conserve energy for when I do see something I want to rip to shreds and eat. But once I eat, I like to go back to sleep. That’s pretty much it.
I dream a lot too.
Go on. What do you dream about?
Well sometimes, I have this recurring dream where I’m Al Pacino holed up in a Brooklyn bank, cornered by the police.
[chuckling, taking a drag from his cigarette] Just fucking with you Diego. I dream about eating. Sneaking up on something, biting its neck till the writhing stops, then eating the motherfucker raw. And if I’m not dreaming about killing and eating, I’m dreaming about fucking something.
My cameraman told me you were trying to fuck the leopard chair when he came in this morning.
Yeah, I do that from time to time. Well, not fuck chairs, because that would just be weird. But I did fuck this tree branch one time. Its silhouette looked like a lioness, really fucked my dick up on that one. I’ve had this eye thingy going on the last couple months, blurred vision and all. I think I need lasik surgery or something. Anyway, I thought the chair was pussy at first, then I got a mouthful of shredded cotton. Imagine my surprise?
I’ll bet that was a surprise.
Listen Diego. Don’t get all judgy on me for trying to fuck your chair. Your world is pretty weird too, at least from where I’m sitting.
Your world seems like an elaborate scheme of dating, pretending, and bribery, all leading-up to one thing—pussy. In my world, there is no courting. It’s straight up fucking and in the roughest sense of the word. In fact, short of the ‘R’ word, we pretty much don’t mess around when it comes to getting our freak on.
You see chicks walking down the street every day. I rarely see any babes in the wild, so when I do, there’s no time for courting. And bribery? [laughs] What would I bribe her with anyway? A new car? Dinner? I’m not even sharing my meals so dinner’s out of the question.
The bottom line is I need to get laid when I see a hot lioness. There’s no time for being nice. I just hit that shit and go.
While we’re on the topic, I need to ask you something.
Why the fascination with tits? Do you know how stupid you humans look from my world? Can you picture me trying to fondle mountain lion titties while I’m getting my freak on? Why I’d scratch them to pieces.
Well I must say Jerry, you seem to have a lot of shit bottled-up there—some real anger issues.
[staring at cameraman’s leg and growling]
Uh, Jerry? Are we cool?
Oh, sorry. Hey, what’s the cameraman’s name?
Hey Monte, is that a scratch on your arm? I’m picking up blood somewhere. Is it you?
[Monte drops camera, begins running for exit, mountain lion gives chase]
CUT! Alright guys, let’s pick this up after lunch. Where’s the fucking caterer anyway? They should’ve been here hours ago.
[voice coming from lighting crew in blasé tone] Yeah, I think the lion got ’em in the parking lot earlier.
Fuck. Can one of you go to Arby’s? I’ll buy. And pickup something for the lion too, maybe some curly fries.