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Randy Quaid stared out over the dusty tennis court and the fetid swimming pool filled with human feces. His permanently furrowed brow seemed to add creases by the day, and this day was no different. A shadow crossed his stormy, bottomless eyes, which continued to take in the horizon. A Bentley on fire. Two private masseurs fighting over a poodle carcass. A broken chocolate fountain on a bare buffet table under a stained tent. Randy Quaid mashed the heel of his palms into his eyes but it was impossible these days to get the grit out. A lone tear formed at the corner of each eye and rolled down his cheeks, leaving a pink trail in its wake until he smeared fresh dirt across his face with the back of his hand. Evi stood next to him for a few minutes before he even noticed. It was only a slight movement in his peripheral vision that he thought at first might be a caddy come to rob him that he turned and found his wife. She hitched her tattered skirts and sat next to him, placing an impossibly thin hand against the flat of his back. Through his unwashed tuxedo shirt, she could feel ribs.
“Storm’s coming,” Randy said, pointing out towards the overturned outdoor brick pizza oven made of stones imported from Naples. Evi just nodded. There was nothing to do with a storm but brave it. A feral production assistant had made off with their tarpaulin weeks ago.
A passing aid worker offered them emergency rations of cocaine, but Evi waved him off. “We’re not on drugs,” she explained. “And we are mentally stable.” The aid worker looked at her with genuine sadness, just shaking his head gently from side to side before heading deeper into the hills.
“You should have taken the cocaine,” Randy said, when the aid worker was gone. “Maybe it would help your cholera.”
Just then Evi died of cholera. Randy dug a hole in someone’s mangosteen patch with his bare fingers, wrapped her body in a Burberry trenchcoat, and buried her, with nothing but a simple jewel-encrusted Tiffany cross as a marker. Suddenly, he was overcome with a desire to say something in his dead wife’s honor. Naturally, he didn’t have anything good enough to toast her with, not anymore, but he would make do, and if she was watching from Heaven, she would understand. Randy Quaid fashioned a glass out of a champagne glass, and he poured mid-priced champagne into the glass and pretended it was expensive champagne.
“Evi, you were my wife. You were not on drugs, and you were not mentally unstable. Together we fled the Hollywood assassins. They led us here, to this Hollywood refugee camp where we were Hollywood refugees. Then you died of the cholera. I know that we had our differences on the subject, but through all of this turmoil, I choose to believe that God does exist, and that he had his reasons for taking everything away from us despite our sobriety and mental stability. I believe that He in His infinite wisdom took you home to Him with the cholera because it was your time. I miss you, my beautiful bride. And the international celebrity assassins will pay. I promise you this, I will find their headquarters, and I will infiltrate them and destroy them and their lasers before they can make anyone else who is so not on drugs and so not mentally unstable run for their lives ever again.”
Randy Quaid grimaced as he drank the meagre mid-priced champagne. Then he sat back down on the well-manicured lawn and watched in the distance as some fellow refugees played 9-holes with the polished bones of a dead gardener and a front propeller from a private jet. A wind kicked up and blew dust everywhere, like a bottle of Goldschlagger that’s been shaken too hard. The storm was coming.
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This is too clever and well-written. I’m through! GOODBYE OPINIONATED MINDHIVE.
I wish we could quit us.
I agree. I wonder if Gabe had this in his mouth when he wrote that…
While wearing…
When does he fly the crop-duster straight into the assassins’ space ship?
Randy Quaid thought Independence Day was a documentary.
you know, i was just thinking that the background in that image looks like the scene in Mars Attacks when the people are all camped out waiting for the aliens to land.
Brilliant, Gabe. Soon, Randy and Evi will fill a shopping cart with their meager belongings and set off along the road, heavy with ash in the fading gunmetal light.
I feel guilty laughing at these people because they clearly are dealing with many personal (drug) demons and their celebrity has given them an unfortunate platform to live it out on the world’s stage. But the bottom line is that they are just mentally ill.
On the other hand, lulz.
looking forward to Randy Quaid’s cameo in the Hangover 3.
Those poor, brave celebrities.
Who knows the tinychat password? I wanna chat.
enhance
http://tinychat.com/videogum password enhance
I thought for sure it would be “birdie”
This was an excerpt from Gabe’s new book, “The Grapes of Cousin Eddie’s Wrath.”
“feral pruduction assistant” … STOP Gabe! Your killing me!
(Commenting on an iPhone is the worst) *production *you’re
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I agree lol
http://www.buyextenze.com/
I would pay cash money to see this movie. Perhaps staring Mel Gibson in (3rd) his comeback role
*in his 3rd. Lucky its friday here
Gabe spins the most beautiful yarns
excuse to post a gif! i’m taking it. (made via: http://bajillionhits.biz/post/1482156655/stratocast-3-the-dos-and-donts-of-branded-content )
That was brilliant.
These have made me giddy in a way I predict will last till tomorrow:
A feral production assistant had made off with their tarpaulin
A passing aid worker offered them emergency rations of cocaine, but Evi waved him off. …
“You should have taken the cocaine,” Randy said, when the aid worker was gone. “Maybe it would help your cholera.” Just then Evi died of cholera.
Randy Quaid fashioned a glass out of a champagne glass, and he poured mid-priced champagne into the glass and pretended it was expensive champagne. … Randy Quaid grimaced as he drank
Bravo, sir.
I’m a fan of the simple but effective “Just then Evi died of cholera”, myself.
Randy’s brother is just one miniaturization experiment away from fixing him.
Bless you. I love this movie, and am mildly obsessed with it.
Thank you, Baby Friday! I was starting to feel very alone for a bit.
You are not alone. I have very positive memories of this movie from when I was a kid.
“I’M POSSESSED!”
Gabe, this is the best. Posts like this make me wish this site was called youcanmakeitupgum.com.
“Randy Quaid fashioned a glass out of a champagne glass, and he poured mid-priced champagne into the glass and pretended it was expensive champagne.”
David Foster Wallace just read this sentence and started slow clapping from the computer lab in purgatory.
This is why YCMIU is my favorite, ever.