Felines

So tell me, what's your darkest fantasy?

Fuck it.

Come on. Come on. Fucking answer, damn it.

Hello?

Lily, it's me.

There's been an accident. I need your help.

I'm listening.

It's Walter. I think he OD'ed or something.

I don't know. He's not breathing.

What do I do?

Fuck, he's not breathing. Fuck.

What are you doing at Walter's?

Lily, did you hear me?

I think he's fucking dead.

Well, is he or isn't he?

I don't know. I think so. What do I do?

Lily could be an absolute cunt sometimes,

but she was the only one I could count on

when shit went bad.

Trust me, if there were anyone else,

I would've never made that call.

Hello?

Lily, please. I need you.

Be there in seven minutes.

Fuck!

I should start at the beginning.

Ever since I was a child, I never had a true friend.

Someone I could count on,

a person I could confess my darkest secrets to.

The last time I tried to share

my innermost thoughts with someone,

Becky Gleason told the entire fourth grade

that I wanted to kiss a girl.

I was bullied for years after that.

So I woke up with a scar,

and I'm never going back to that hotel again.

Wow.

- Anyway. - You're fucking hard, man.

So you wanna get me another drink?

Yeah. Yeah.

Hey Max, a set a shots, one for the lady here.

Lily. My name's Lily.

Lily.

Even saying her name out loud

still makes my insides get all gooey,

like a pool of swirling slime that feels good at first,

but then turns to acid.

At least I know Max doesn't water this shit down.

Come on, Max.

Have a drink with us.

I'm working.

Come on. It'll be our secret. We won't tell.

It's just one shot. I'm buying.

Another time.

Well, okay.

Her loss.

You wanna get outta here?

Yeah. Let's go.

Lily had been coming here for the past week.

I knew her intentions, but I stayed out of it.

It was only a matter of time

before her shit caught up with her,

then she'd probably move on to some other bar,

fuck with some other group of drunk losers

who were easy prey for a girl like her.

But until then, she was my problem.

You ever have something happen to you

that seemed insignificant at the time,

but ended up changing you forever?

Life's fucked up like that.

The flutter of the smallest butterfly wing

can alter history.

If only someone swatted that butterfly by mistake,

maybe Lily would've never been born.

But maybe all this was meant to be.

Maybe meeting Lily was fate,

the fucked up destiny I truly deserved.

You missed last call.

Pity.

You know, you can't be doing that around here.

Doing what?

You know what. Someone's going to catch you.

You here alone?

On Mondays, yeah.

Good to know.

My mom died when I was 13.

Before then, my dad was always a drunk.

But after she passed, he really went to shit.

The good thing about having a parent

who's a degenerate alcoholic

is they usually don't get into your business.

Just keep the liquor flowing and the noise down

and you can do whatever the fuck you want.

I despised the type of person Lily was,

but still, I couldn't get her outta my head.

There was something about her,

some mystery that I needed to solve.

Or maybe it was just that she didn't give a fuck.

She was dangerous.

A ticking time bomb that could explode at any minute,

destroying anything foolish to get close enough to her.

I promised myself I'd never fall

for someone like that again.

Still, my thoughts kept coming back to her.

For all I knew, I'd never see her again.

That she would just be some lingering memory

that gradually faded out of existence.

If only I had been so lucky.

My whole life,

I've tried to measure up to some standard

of what's supposed to be beautiful.

Those elusive qualities

that only Instagram filters can provide,

yet we all hate ourselves for not having.

Fuck 'em.

Where is she?

Who?

The whore who I was with last night.

The fucking bitch stole my wallet.

Sure you didn't just lose it?

You were pretty fucked up last night.

Listen, if she comes back in,

will you just tell me?

Sure.

It's a good thing she didn't steal

that wedding ring, though.

I'm not gonna lie, sometimes I think about ending it all.

I mean, what's the point really?

We wake up, we go to work, we hustle,

try to make money however we can, and for what?

So we can finally feel some kind of inner peace,

some kind of safety, like a warm blanket of security?

But that feeling never comes.

You get so bogged down in your own bullshit,

that it's all just a fucking spiral.

What are you writing?

Simon was in here looking for you.

Who?

The guy you robbed last night.

Oh, you mean the guy I robbed here?

This isn't the only shithole bar I haunt.

I'll bet it's poetry you're writing.

Some real angsty high school shit, right?

Like, "I'm a raging fire that's gonna burn down the world."

Shit like that, right?

I'm journaling. It helps my anxiety.

I take drugs for that.

So why do you even work here anyway?

I bet you barely make enough in tips here

with those outfits you wear.

I need to close up.

You don't close for another hour.

Come on, I can keep a secret.

What's your angle?

I sell my prescriptions to the customers.

Xanax, Klonopin, Valium.

I knew you had an edge to you.

So how do you get your psych to write you all those scripts.

Do you fuck him on the couch or on his desk?

That's gross.

I have three different doctors.

They obviously don't know about each other.

I saw a psych once when I was 10.

He was a fucking creep.

I thought you didn't drink on the job.

You want one?

Sure.

It's okay. It's on the house.

How much for your Xanax?

$5 a pill.

How about a trade?

What for?

I have some Molly.

Four of your bars for one of my pills.

Okay, sure.

But not here. Meet me out back in like an hour.

No, I don't have it here.

Wanna come by my place later?

I live, like, five minutes from here.

Sure.

See you soon.

I was hoping you wouldn't change your mind. Come in.

This is not what I pictured.

What'd you expect?

All black walls, sex wings hanging from the ceiling?

Hey.

- No, I just- - Isn't it wild how the mind

can paint such a vivid picture of reality,

which we interpret as the truth,

but yet it's all just bullshit?

Do you live here by yourself?

I'm house sitting. In between and places right now.

You want something to drink?

Thanks.

Here.

So, four Xanax, right?

For Molly?

Yeah. How many do you want?

Just one's good.

Just one?