Lately Alex and I have taken to watching movies before we go to bed, and it’s been educational in a way that my 7 years of college education never were. And for me, this makes sense, because when I lie so close to Alex in our bed, watching the screen of our portable DVD player in the dark, I am very much seeing the film, with all its typical cinematic devices, through the eyes of a naïve foreigner, and I have to admit, those eyes look very much like breasts, with a long, distracting shadow of cleavage that begs for my forehead and cheek.
‘Stop lookeeng at my breasts and vatch the movie.’
/laugh track
And I don’t know what movie we’re watching, because they have all become the same to me. The same lines, in the same scenarios, spoken by the same curvy actresses with an irresistible birthmark just above an uncovered patch of skin above the hip that begs to be bitten.
‘Ow! Stop eet!’
/laugh track
She asks such insightful questions every time the cat jumps from behind the closet, or from underneath the bed, or from impossibly high upon a window ledge, and from within every nook and cranny that a key grip could ever manage to semi-legally jam what is certainly a feral and abused animal.
‘I have never een all my life heard a cat make dees sound,’ she says, imitating the poor animals and making a clawing motion towards me:
/Alex pretending to be cat jumping from underneath bed sheets, ‘MREEOWRR!’
‘Vy deed they stuff cat eento glove compartment?’
/laugh track
‘I dunno. To be scary, I suppose.’
‘Eet eez skary. But not for reasons they theenk.’
/audience cheers, claps
‘I think what’s even scarier is that I somehow love you more now than when I thought I could never hold you.’
/audience ‘aaaaahs’
‘Vy are you talkeeng to my boosom?’
/audience laughs
/roll credits
/cue ducks
/cat jumps from DVD case, ‘MREEOWRR!’
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