Happy To Get Away

by thoughtsonthedead


“I don’t know what further proof I can provide, Katy. It’s really me, John Mayer, your on again/off again celebrity boyfriend.”

“Tell me something only John Mayer would know.”

“I encourage myself during sex. ‘Good work,’ ‘Way to go, champ,’ that sort of thing.”

“That’s true.”

“I’m scared of elves, but not gnomes.”


“If you like, I could give you the longest lecture on watches and watch-related bullshit you ever heard.”

“Fuck, no.”

“Katy, I escaped Front Street. I am not a Grateful Dead in a sim-suit, nor am I a legendary Texas shit-starter in a sim-suit. I am John Mayer, the cool breeze from the rough streets of Connecticut.”

“I’ll believe you for now.”

“Thank you.”

“I had to double my security. You know two of you showed up one night?”


“Mickey and something called a “Keith” put on their little magic outfits–”


“–and wandered into the house. I walked into the living room and they were punching each other.”

“That sounds right.”

“What kind of people have you gotten involved with?”

“Weird ones. I’m sorry, baby. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.”

“How many–”

“Nine times.”

“–times did they…goddammit.”

“And they’re morons, too, these new friends of yours. Not one of them got ten minutes without giving himself away.”

“They’re not actors.”

“One just took it out and ran at me.”

“Maybe Billy.”

“It was Billy.”