In this monologue, Chuck talks to his friend about the thoughts he has been having about writing a novel.
CHUCK: Bro, let me read this to you and you tell me what you think. I never wrote a novel type thing before in my life and I was wondering if I should pursue it or not, so I want your opinion, alright?
Okay, keep in mind I just wrote this, I didn’t go back and edit it or nothing, I just kind of wrote it.
It’s called Mexican Princess. Don’t ask me why but that’s the freaking title, at least for now.
(he reads aloud from a notepad)
I sat down in my usual spot at my usual cafe, with my usual ice cold Amstel light beer.
My mind kept playing on my Mexican Princess. Her long black silky hair–pin straight and reaching down to the beginning bumps of what started the shape of her perfect round ass.
Every now and again my thoughts would snap to my present reality, whenever the bartender would make the sound of a bottle clinking behind the bar.
I would sneak a glance over to the fat waitress who I knew wished I would tap dat ass. I was always extra nice to her because I sympathized with the fact that she was a lonely woman. One could tell from the sad circles of sleepless, longing nights around her eyes. She needed more than dick, she needed love but dick would still serve her lonely cave, at least temporarily. There were times that I considered doing her the favor, if only I could drink myself up to accept the mistake of it.
I glanced over to the end of the bar where a couple drank and laughed. I wondered why such a young woman was in love with such an ugly old man. It was obvious that they were lovers because the man would whisper in her ear without realizing how loud he actually was,”I can’t wait to take you home and go down on you for days.”
(he finishes reading)
Okay, bro…that’s as far as I got. What do you think?