Saturday Night

I'm sitting around the house and my mom's watching her favorite show on the tube. She's got the volume up too loud again but I don't have the heart to tell her to turn it down. Nobody tells Donna Kid what to do, you know? It's not cos' she's scary and intimidating like some of the girls around here. It's the opposite actually. She's so sweet and nice that once you do you end up feeling like the most rotten creep ever. You see my mom's the greatest girl in the world.

Sometimes I bring kids over and they see my mom sitting on the couch with her knitting and they're like, "Gee Bill, who's that?" I hate it. When people call me "Bill" I have to stop them right there and say, "Look pal, the name's Billy."

Only serial killers and carnival workers are named "Bill" in my opinion and I'm definitely neither. For the record, my name is Billy. I'm none of the following: William, Sweet William, Bill, Billy-boy, Billy-willy or "Hey Retard!" You got that? Okay, so about serial killers -- I've only killed one person and that was totally for a film. Meaning fake. The only reason why there was any real blood involved in my last film is because the broad asked for me to punc hher. I don't know what it is with girls and hitting. Maybe if I had a sister, I would know but I don't. It's just me and my mom Donna. But, I've gotten off track -- So, I'll br bringing someone home and they'll see my mom on the couch and ask who she is. I've just got to look at them all crazy for a moment. "Who the hell do you think it is," I gotta ask. While my mom tells me to watch my language, they just shrug and say they don't. They wouldn't either.

My mom's a real looker. Back in her day, she as a Georgia peach. She got a crown and wore a real nice dress and everything. She still has the wave and smile. I have a picture of her on my dresser from those days. I used to think she looked like Glenda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz. Now that's a real movie. Not like the trash they show nowadays at the Cineplex. Thank you L. Frank Baum and Victor Fleming, too.

Anyway, people don't know what to make of it but as soon as my mom puts on the charm and starts heating up a can of soup or some leftovers, they're sold. Everyone loves my mom. Everyone does and if you say you don't, you're a rotten liar. It's cute how she'll put out bowls of soup for everyone, but me. When she does, everyone's all, "Gosh Billy, aren't you gonna eat?" By then, my mom's already pulled out a Hershey's bar from the icebox and told me not to break my teeth on the chcoolate.

"I only eat candy."

When I say that everyone nods like they understand. Nobody understands though. I can tell. It's why people get real uptight when I'm like, "Hey, want to spend the night?" and they're like, "I dunno. Want to come to my place instead?" I don't get it. I mean, we've got a real nice apartment in a good part of town. Usually I get mad and tell them to forget it. You've got a problem with my ma, and you've got a problem with me. It really ruins the mood. I have to excuse myself out of to the fire escape to smoke a cigarette or something.

Gosh, I really wish my mom would turn down the television. It's making such a racket and I can hardly hear myself think at all. I'm working on a scrip to my very own film. Sure, I like working for Fred or Joe or Nancy, but I've got a lot of potential I think. I mean, I've got all these ideas and Ma's already said to me that if I want a camera I should really just got out there and buy one. I told her I'd let her have a part in my first film. I'm writing her this really great part about a faded beauty queen with lots of ex-husbands. I think she'll like it. She's got a swell speaking voice. It's just like all those old movie-star girls in the films she likes to watch. I like Hitchcock myself -- especially all those blondes and close-ups of their trembling, waxy faces and big liquid eyes during the scary parts. It's so sick. If a bird was gonna come and peck at my eyes, I sure wouldn't be standing at the window like Tippi Hedren did. After that birds movie, I started wearing sunglasses a lot more.

People tell me I'm real handsome in them. Sometimes I think that beauty's a lot like the chocolate bars that Ma freezes. Everybody talks a lot, but they don't really know for sure what they think.

The television set's really got to be turned down. I throw my pen at it and my mom looks up from her knitting and shakes her head. She's got that look on her face that says I better straighten up. I love that phrase: straighten up. Good luck lady. All I can do is smile and lean over to kiss her cheek like a gentleman.