More Than Zero (But Less Than Two or Three)

Nobody’s home. The air conditioning is on and MTV is playing softly in the background. I ask Cindy where her parents are and she says they’re shooting in Rome or vacationing in Palm Springs or were killed in a horrible mining accident, she can’t remember which. I sit down and watch MTV and then we do some cocaine and then we watch MTV for a while and then do some cocaine and Cindy gets up and goes to her room and changes into a green Hard Rock Café T-shirt while I watch a little MTV and Cindy comes back and we decide to do some cocaine and watch MTV. The new X video is playing and they’re singing

Commentary on the story through the lyrics of the song, oh yeah Commentary on the story through the lyrics of songs. Commentary on the story through the lyrics of the song, oh yeah. Commentary, commentary, commentary.

Cindy tells me that she’s thinking of starting a band and I ask her if she can play an instrument and she says no and I ask if she can sing and she says no and I ask if she likes music and she says no and she tells me that she’s thinking of starting a band and all I can think about is that people are afraid of those little blue plastic things that are stuck in the end of ballpoint pens.

The doorbell rings and Cindy answers it. It’s some guy she knows named Dirk, he’s really tan and he has short blond hair, I met him once at a party in Malibu two years ago or he’s my best friend and I’ve known him all my life, I can’t remember which. Cindy introduces us while we watch MTV. “David, this is Dan,” she says. “Dan,” says she, “This is David.” “No,” says Dirk, “This is not Dan.” “Dirk,” I say. “This is Dan, not David.” “Dirk, David, Dan,” she says. “Dirk,” I say. “Dan, David.” “Dan,” says not David. “Dirk, Dirk, Dirk.” We do some cocaine.

During the end of my senior year one day I drove out to our old house. Dad didn’t want to sell it but mom made him so he sold it to the Porn-O-Rama chain of discount pornographic material stores. I sat in the car while INXS sang a new song called “Storytelling Device” and watched six or seven hundred disgusting old men with leprosy and other disfiguring diseases walk in and out of the place that had been my home my entire life. I also thought about my grandmother and how she’d died of cancer. I was depressed.