Church camp. Summer 2018. Amurrica. Someplace near Philadelphia, I imagine. Picture it like the opening scene of an indie rom-com. Bruce Springsteen plays in the background as a Maserati pulls up to a peach farm. The classics are playing: Carlisle, Bowie, Bush. You'd think it was the 80's but it's not. The music stills to the unlatching of the car door and JB emerges from the metal, frowning. Possibly mad, possibly not. You could mistake it for squinting in that haze.
It is another blurred summer. Sunlight drenches the farmland in a liquid heat and I imagine that the peaches are the colour of this. Bite into one and perhaps it drips the very same thing the sun would if it was just as easily digestible.
He is seething of course. He is the bad boy after all. Although, this time he plays the part where he becomes the good kid and retires completely reborn. It's not a reformation he wants, but one's wishes will often be overshadowed by the better intentions of those around him. You don't pee in a bucket and leave unscathed, mind you. He expected this.
Now imagine it like a horror film. Now an action film. Now again as an indie rom-com, but this time with dinosaurs and the world is ending and Idris Elba is wearing a top hat screaming lyrics from all the big sixties songs. All while Tom Holland writes me love letters from Japan and sends me Pocky in a quaint box. James McAvoy sings 'Sweet Caroline' as Lady Gaga nibbles on his left toe, and I think he enjoys it a little too much, but it's okay because he's dressed as "Weird Al" Yankovic. I'm angry, Nicholas Hoult is crying, and Beyonce's still effortlessly beautiful and completely unfazed in a white ball gown as Bradley Simpson keeps singing that one line from 'Volcano' in Bulgarian. Or what he says is Bulgarian, but Tom Hiddleston's stolen everyone's phones so no one can check. It's okay because it's Tom Hiddleston, though. Then, just before the black falls, Dan Stevens arrives dressed as a Swedish princess.
Church camp. Summer 2018. Amurrica. Someplace near Philadelphia, I imagine.
I had too much fun writing this post. I'm not even sorry.