Sputnik deardropz: cartoonify yourself. (II)

– Look, that’s the plan: we’ll take all these tears from your eyes, we’ll take a scissor and start croppin’ happy shapes out of them: Mickey Mouse, Duffy Duck, Donald, Pink Panther, The AristoCats. Okay?

– The things that I want: a smoke, a whiskey for the sun to shine. I want to sleep, to remember to forget. I want unlimited ammo and a license to kill paperdreams that are only skin deep.

– Come on, don’t you like Duffy and Donald? Or maybe you don’t want white and black ducks… then maybe you’d want Pluto the dog? Or the Wacky Racers? Or something more eco friendly… like Captain Planet?

– The past is a gaping hole. Your only chance is to turn around and face it. But it’s like kissing the lips of your dead love, darkness waiting in the hole of her mouth. I can’t remember who said it. Bullet type.

– Let’s see… maybe Sailor Moon? Bugs Bunny? Or maybe you want those crazy mice, Pinky and the Brain? Shall we put also a cat into this mice ecuation? Tom and Jerry? I’ll bring all them for you, just name who do you want.

– We are willing to suffer, to die for the things we care about. For love, for the right choices. If the only choice you’ve got is to do the wrong thing, then it’s not really the wrong thing, it’s more like fate. It’s all a matter of perspective, tied to time and place, love and friendship, life and death of you and your passions.

– Do you have some scissors around? I’d prefer a red pair, red scissors always crop out very happy shapes. And, well, if you can’t make up your mind, we’ll just crop all the cartoons that bust into our mind on the spot. Randomly. Sometimes while watching Picasso’s artwork I have the slightly impression he did pretty much the same. Haha.

– Sometimes there are no choices. Nothing but a straight line. The illusion comes afterwards, when you ask “What if?”, when you look back, see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or a forked lighting. If you had done something differently, it wouldn’t be you, it would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions. 

– There, I found some scissors. Huh, nice colour, even better than red. Look, I thought that from this small tear drippin’ out of your left eye we could crop out all the Flinstones. You know those cartoons, right? Sure you do. Barney, Fred, Wilma, Betty… and do you remember Dino?

– I wonder if Nice Guy Eddie, Mr. Blonde or Mr. Pink could keep up with my lines in that Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs “tipping” scene. You know, at some point Mr. Pink says he doesn’t usually tip and that the waitress hasn’t done anything special. And Joe asks him what’s special then. I’d say Wassily Kandisky is special. It must be amazing being Kandinsky. Or Dali. Or Jackson Pollock. John Malkovich not that much.

– Hey, Kandinsky wannabe, look, from the other small tear drippin’ out of your right eye I’ve cropped out Twetty, Sylvester and Bugs Bunny. I was thinking to crop out Cyber Rider, but – oh, well –  it turned out to be Bugs. Look, he’s sayin’ to you: “What’s up, Doc?” And you say back to him…

– Mr. Bugs, here are the things that I want: a smoke, a whiskey for the sun to shine. The things that I get. The things that maybe I don’t actually need.

– Okay, okay. Mr. Bugs is now asking you how was your business meeting with Mr. Sputnik. You had diner at Conti’s, right?

– He said that leaving behind expensive red wine was a waste.

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