"Drew Barrymore's Breasts - Michael Bryson" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bryson Michael)
Drew Barrymore's Breasts - Michael Bryson
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DREW BARRYMORE'S BREASTS
by Michael Bryson
I was watching television with my mother the night
Drew Barrymore flashed David Letterman. I don't know if you saw
this. Drew jumped up on Dave's desk, danced a round for a few
seconds, then lifted her t-shirt and showed Dave her breasts.
After she returned to her seat, Dave said: "You
don't know how much I thank you for that." Drew laughed.
Later she would tell Dave that she had multiple
personality disorder, so it wasn't necessary for her to create
characters when she acted. All she had to do was call up one of her
personalities.
My mother fell asleep before Drew showed Dave her
breasts, but when I woke her up to guide her to her room she saw one
of the many times the producers replayed it. "What was that all
about?" she asked. "Nothing," I said. It was late. I led her to her
bedroom and kissed her on the cheek. I pulled the door shut and
walked down the hallway to my room.
All the lights were out in the house except the one
in the front room, where we had the television. I could walk around
that house for a week blindfolded and not bump into anything. I have
lived here my whole life. I walked into my room and took a bottle of
whiskey out of the top drawer of my dresser. I have a Led Zepplin
poster over my bed. It has been there since I was fifteen. I was
thinking about taking it down, since I just graduated from college.
I took the whiskey into the kitchen. My mother
didn't like to see me drinking. My father had stopped drinking two
years ago because he was an alcoholic. My mother didn't like to see
me drinking, but she didn't stop me. I took some ice cubes out of
the freezer and dropped them in a glass. I took the whiskey and the
glass full of ice cubes with me to the front room. Letterman was
still on. I picked up the remote control and pressed "stop" on the
VCR.
The machine clicked, then whirled when I pressed
"rewind." I wanted to watch Drew Barrymore again. She jumps up on
his desk and you can tell by the look on his face that he's
thinking, Oh, boy. What now? The interview is out of his control.
Then she lifts up her shirt. You can't see anything. Maybe the side
of her breast. Just a shadow. She's facing Dave and he's staring up
at her breasts. For maybe half a second he's sitting there staring
up at her breasts. He can definitely see both of her nipples.
The camera shows you Dave under Drew's right elbow
and his eyes are hanging out of his face. Drew jumps off the desk
and sits down. She's nervous about what he's going to say, you can
tell. She took control of the interview, but then she gave it back.
She sits there looking like a nervous school girl, nibbling on her
fingernails. But Dave thanks her and she laughs. She's relieved. You
can tell she's thinking, It was good. I didn't ruin the interview.
The audience is screaming and clapping and the producers replay it
over and over. My mother looked at it and shook her head.
She never used to watch Letterman. My father had
died two months before. My poor mother. She's not very well. She
works at the local library. They gave her a leave of absence when my
father died, but she hasn't gone back. "They don't need me," she
said when I asked her about it. But you need them, I thought. She
had hardly been outside since she put my father in the ground. I
didn't push her, though. You don't get anywhere by pushing people, I
can tell you that.
I took a sip of whiskey. It burned the back of my
throat. Dave was saying to the audience, "I'm at work here! You
people come here for entertainment, but this is my job!" He made his
eyes go big and took a drink from his mug. "This is my job!" he said
again, and they replayed Drew lifting up her shirt.
My father drove a taxi, ok. He was killed when a
passenger demanded his money. He turned over the money, and the
passenger shot him in the back of the head. My mother cried all the
way through the funeral. The church was packed with taxi drivers
from as far away as Ottawa and Montreal. Death can bring people
together, I guess.
I stopped the VCR and began flipping through the
channels. I stopped on an old episode of "Three's Company," then
flipped to a conversation two old guys were having about the work of
the Devil.
Drew Barrymore's Breasts first appeared in
The New Quarterly. It is included in Thirteen Shades of
Black and White (Turnstone Press,
1999).
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Drew Barrymore's Breasts - Michael Bryson
| |
|
|
DREW BARRYMORE'S BREASTS
by Michael Bryson
I was watching television with my mother the night
Drew Barrymore flashed David Letterman. I don't know if you saw
this. Drew jumped up on Dave's desk, danced a round for a few
seconds, then lifted her t-shirt and showed Dave her breasts.
After she returned to her seat, Dave said: "You
don't know how much I thank you for that." Drew laughed.
Later she would tell Dave that she had multiple
personality disorder, so it wasn't necessary for her to create
characters when she acted. All she had to do was call up one of her
personalities.
My mother fell asleep before Drew showed Dave her
breasts, but when I woke her up to guide her to her room she saw one
of the many times the producers replayed it. "What was that all
about?" she asked. "Nothing," I said. It was late. I led her to her
bedroom and kissed her on the cheek. I pulled the door shut and
walked down the hallway to my room.
All the lights were out in the house except the one
in the front room, where we had the television. I could walk around
that house for a week blindfolded and not bump into anything. I have
lived here my whole life. I walked into my room and took a bottle of
whiskey out of the top drawer of my dresser. I have a Led Zepplin
poster over my bed. It has been there since I was fifteen. I was
thinking about taking it down, since I just graduated from college.
I took the whiskey into the kitchen. My mother
didn't like to see me drinking. My father had stopped drinking two
years ago because he was an alcoholic. My mother didn't like to see
me drinking, but she didn't stop me. I took some ice cubes out of
the freezer and dropped them in a glass. I took the whiskey and the
glass full of ice cubes with me to the front room. Letterman was
still on. I picked up the remote control and pressed "stop" on the
VCR.
The machine clicked, then whirled when I pressed
"rewind." I wanted to watch Drew Barrymore again. She jumps up on
his desk and you can tell by the look on his face that he's
thinking, Oh, boy. What now? The interview is out of his control.
Then she lifts up her shirt. You can't see anything. Maybe the side
of her breast. Just a shadow. She's facing Dave and he's staring up
at her breasts. For maybe half a second he's sitting there staring
up at her breasts. He can definitely see both of her nipples.
The camera shows you Dave under Drew's right elbow
and his eyes are hanging out of his face. Drew jumps off the desk
and sits down. She's nervous about what he's going to say, you can
tell. She took control of the interview, but then she gave it back.
She sits there looking like a nervous school girl, nibbling on her
fingernails. But Dave thanks her and she laughs. She's relieved. You
can tell she's thinking, It was good. I didn't ruin the interview.
The audience is screaming and clapping and the producers replay it
over and over. My mother looked at it and shook her head.
She never used to watch Letterman. My father had
died two months before. My poor mother. She's not very well. She
works at the local library. They gave her a leave of absence when my
father died, but she hasn't gone back. "They don't need me," she
said when I asked her about it. But you need them, I thought. She
had hardly been outside since she put my father in the ground. I
didn't push her, though. You don't get anywhere by pushing people, I
can tell you that.
I took a sip of whiskey. It burned the back of my
throat. Dave was saying to the audience, "I'm at work here! You
people come here for entertainment, but this is my job!" He made his
eyes go big and took a drink from his mug. "This is my job!" he said
again, and they replayed Drew lifting up her shirt.
My father drove a taxi, ok. He was killed when a
passenger demanded his money. He turned over the money, and the
passenger shot him in the back of the head. My mother cried all the
way through the funeral. The church was packed with taxi drivers
from as far away as Ottawa and Montreal. Death can bring people
together, I guess.
I stopped the VCR and began flipping through the
channels. I stopped on an old episode of "Three's Company," then
flipped to a conversation two old guys were having about the work of
the Devil.
Drew Barrymore's Breasts first appeared in
The New Quarterly. It is included in Thirteen Shades of
Black and White (Turnstone Press,
1999).
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