Come on...

...whaddya say? Let's just take off. You and me, just like we used to talk about. We could finally find that cozy little B&B somewhere on the coast of Maine, something with a lighthouse overlooking the ocean. You know, on the coast. Way up above a bunch of waves crashing around on the rocks and barnacles with seagulls flying around. A place where you and I could just get away from it all, and finally find the time to do all the things we've both been itching to do all these years, but never could get around to actually doing, you know? Like "Shovington Fur!?" Shit, remember "Shovington Fur?" My novella I've been meaning to crank out forever about the solar-powered men's club restaurant kiosk. Remember? Whatever. You could do stuff, too. You could grow out your nails. Hang out with fishermen and collect shells. Make coffee in the afternoons. Maybe we could knit some wool dogs to keep us company. Keep a tank full of giant lobsters next to our bed. Play some kind of game in the lighthouse on the weekends. I don't really know what kind of game it could be, just the two of us and all, but it doesn't matter, does it? It'd just be a stupid little game. It doesn't have to be anything big like a theater production. It could just be something fun where I hide in the lighthouse somewhere, maybe on the steps, and you could sneak around like a cranky old police officer. Or, fuck it, you could hide and I could run up and down the stairs in my underwear. Jesus, I don't know. We could just goof around and have fun and just laugh. Huh? How's that sound? Just the two of us, living out our fantasies. It's not so crazy, is it? I'm not crazy, am I?