The Melancholy Korean

“Cupcake.”

“Not now, Nicky.”

“‘Not now, Nicky.’  That’s a hell of a way to say hello.”

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re calling to shit on me, too.”

“What’s the matter, buttercup?  Month-long vacation wearing you out?  Poor thing.”

“Christ, Nicky.”

“For a practicing Christian, you sure like to take His name in vain.  I mean, what would Jesus say about something like that?”

(silence)

“Poor buttercup.  Billy make you cry?”

“Do you have something to tell me? ‘Cause I can get abuse like this from girls a hell of a lot more attractive than you.”

“Oh, man.”

(silence)

“Don’t tell me you called that bitch.”

(silence)

“I see why your panties are all knotted up, cupcake.”

“Couldn’t help it.”

“Do you know what your problem is?”

“I can’t wait for this.”

“You’re like one of those freaks that cut themselves.”

“Who cut.”

“What?”

“Who cut, Nicky.  Freaks are people.”

“Those nut jobs that sit around and cut themselves all day?  They’re people?  Bullshit.”

“Please, Nicky.  I’m on my fucking knees here.”

“You should call up one of those lawyer chicks you used to take out. That’s who you should call.”

“That is the last thing I need right now.”

“Cupcake, listen to Nicky.  Billy’s right.  You need to fucking relax.  Your balls are bluer than…”

“No more lawyers.”

“Ok, buttercup.  Your choice.  Fuck the lawyer chicks.  But I got something for you.  Tokyo Palace Massage.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Don’t be a pussy, cupcake.”

“I told Felicity I would stop…”

“Breaking news alert, pussycat.  She left you.”

(silence)

“I’ll set it up.  Just give me the hotel address.”

“Christ.”

“It’s a great deal.  Like four hundred bucks for full service.  I called to check it out for you.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“Cheaper than Spitzer’s girls.”

(silence)

“And those broads didn’t do prostate…”

“Oh, fuck off.”