Tag: Chili’s

And yet another shot at the title (part xxviii)

Back at Chili’s, Pablo and I had our weekly get together. These things were an opportunity to talk shop or otherwise shoot the shit. I looked forward to these things. Pablo was a long time friend and I saw him as more than a business partner. So on this particular Wednesday afternoon, we gathered at our usual spot at the bar and ordered our usual strawberry daiquiris.

“Well Pablo,” I started off, “I managed to get Dick signed on as a producer. So I’m glad I got someone else in my corner.”

“Hell yeah.”

“But will you believe this shit? Greta went ahead and got her guru signed on as a producer too! I mean, has this town ran out of ideas?!”

“Fuck dude.”

“It’s like I have set every Hollywood trend since coming to this town. Me. James Cynthia Pietermeister. I’m telling ya, if I don’t get that star on the walk of fame then everything I’ve done has been for nothing.”

“Yeah, you right!”

“So what’s been going on with you Pablo? You’ve been awfully quiet lately. You’re not going through one of those suicidal episodes again are you?”

“Nah man.”

“So what the fuck is going on with you?”

“Just the usual shit man. My wife’s divorcing me and I’ve got cancer on my right nut. So I’ve been forced to sell my Lambo to pay for healthcare costs and my parents died in a fire.”

“Goddamn dude.”

“But the good news is that my son’s getting married next week.”

“You have a son?”

“Yeah. Oh, and also, I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m dropping you as a client and taking on Greta.”

“Say what?!”

“Yup, my agent told me that you’re dead weight and this would be good for my career.”

“Your agent? Pablo, you are an agent!”

“Yeah dude. Greta’s a really cool client. She got me invited to one of Leonard Coster’s parties.”

“Leonard Coster?!! Chairman of the Board for Trainwreck Productions?!! Why didn’t he invite me?!!”

“I dunno. Something to do with you being a hack, a has-been, and a total fucking moron. But whatever man. Shit’s boring. Anyway, I gotta go. By the way, I ordered eight martinis before you got here and now I’m gonna drive to Long Beach to hang with Peter Fonda. Can you take care of the tab? See ya!”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Untitled (Part XI)

“Excuse me, sweetheart, while I pop my Cialis,” Harvey Whinestine said to Patricia. “They say that you’re not supposed to mix alcohol and medication. But I say that’s poppycock.”

The two were sharing a daiquiri and a plate of nachos at Chili’s before they went back to her place. Harvey’s wife was at home, so naturally they couldn’t go there. “I should probably pop a Beano too,” he continued, “don’t want to be bustin ass while we’re boinking.”

“Bartender, can I get a bourbon?” Patricia asked. Harvey disappeared to the bathroom while she pounded the drinks at the bar.

He reappeared minutes later in a panic. “I clogged the toilet,” Harvey said, “we better dash. Oh, by the way, I forgot my wallet. Can you pay?”

Instead of calling an Uber, or riding together in the same car, the two drove drunk to Patricia’s place in their respective vehicles. She arrived first.

The late Don Lemon’s 4 cylinder Honda CRV was still parked in the driveway, as was Kenny’s Del Sol.

Patricia rushed into the house to give warning to Eric. She found him still shirtless and cackling with Kenny. The two were covered in blood.

“I don’t know what’s going on here,” she said, “but Harvey Whinestine is on his way. Unfortunately I have to fuck him to keep my job. So you two keep it down.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, for putting you into this situation,” Kenny said. “But Eric and me have been talking and we both agree: it’s time for us to grow up. So Eric’s getting a job, and I’m quitting the drugs. That is, if we get away with killing a guy.”

Patricia would have been moved by her son and lover’s revelations had she of not been so drunk and in a rush. “That’s such a relief…” she said, “but what’s this about killing a guy?”

At that moment, there was a loud crash outside and Harvey came stumbling into the house with tears streaming down his face. “I just smashed my Bentley Continental GT into a 4-cylinder Honda CRV,” he cried, “I just killed a guy!”

Eric and Kenny both smiled and gave each other a high five.

TO BE CONTINUED…