“I am fucking sick of this shit. Do you hear me?” said Brad Pitt as he stood in Nike running shorts, barefoot and bare chested. Brad was yelling at a closed bathroom door. In the bathroom sat Angelina Jolie, naked, sitting on a white toilet in Suite 1407 of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in Manhattan. Angelina’s head was slung forward supported by both palms that were pressed against her forehead as if she were fighting a headache. Angelina sometimes could not figure Brad. She was loving and loyal. She submitted to Brad’s sexual tastes, which were rather pedestrian, thought Angelina. Nothing like Billy Bob Thornton. Billy Bob was unpredictable in everything from sex to food to politics. Yeah, this caused stress at times, but it also kept each day interesting and unique. Like the time Billy Bob sprinkled cocaine all over Angelina’s naked torso and licked it up as he was pumping away. Angelina has white powder all over her face, and the whole thing exploded in one large orgasm, simultaneously, as it should be thought Angelina. Immediately after, Billy Bob wanted to watch Seinfeld with his head on Angelina’s hair. It had to be on Angelina’s hair. And so Angelina let Billy Bob do whatever, and they both belly laughed at the Seinfeld episode.
The unpredictability did not limit it self to sex. You could not pin Billy Bob down on his politics, either. Some days he sounded like the true blue Hollywood Democrat, and on other days Billy Bob was a shotgun toting redneck Republican right out of a trailer park in Texas.
Angelina massaged her forehead thinking that she never had Billy Bob moments with Brad. Brad Pitt, the scion of predictability. Always the missionary position, always with the same exercise routine, always trying to be the politically correct father, always trying to be the politically correct Hollywood Democrat. And always getting angry at predictable moments. Angelina would always know when it was coming. With Billy Bob, his anger was totally unpredictable. Billy Bob could break a table because the waffles were over-cooked or under-cooked, or because the pillows were not fluffy or too fluffy, or because Angelina had not washed her hair or had washed it too much. Angelina never knew what was going to set Billy Bob off. God, she missed those times.
And so what was Brad yelling about? She had predicted it. Brad had been saying that they should get involved with the upcoming presidential race between the Democratic candidates (of course, only the Democratic candidates), and so he asked her which Democrat would she support. Angelina had not thought about it, actually thought it was too early to get involved. But she told Brad that she thought Barack Obama was cuter than Hillary Clinton but that Edwards was too cute. Brad took that as Angelina’s political support for Obama. And so the next day, Bard Pitt came out publicly for Obama and offered to campaign for him. The Obama campaign politely declined, thinking Pitt too Hollywood, and Brad was all in a twit about it.
“Why didn’t you support me with the Obama thing? I look like a fool. Fuck, you have me do things and then I look like the asshole. Carrying the fucking babies around. Hauling your shit from one airport to the next. I am sick of it,” yelled Brad.
“I love you, baby,” said Angelina. She said it like she said it in Mr. & Mrs. Smith, the feature film Brad and she made together. Brad was fun back when they made that movie. But it was all play, shooting guns and fighting with each other was like one long fuck fest for Angelina. Though at times she had Billy Bob on her mind when they were throwing punches and pressing their lips together on the set. But Angelina knew that when she reverted to her character in Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Brad quieted down, predictably.
“I love you too. So what are we doing today?” asked Brad.
“I’m going to take a shower baby and then we’ll go back to LA. How’s that?” asked Angelina.
“You’re the best,” said Brad.
Angelina rose from the toilet, turned on the shower, and got in, washing herself with the large bar of soap that she had purchased earlier that week. It was the kind of soap that Billy Bob liked. Angelina’s massive head of hair got wet and she let her head fall back and felt the hot water run down her large breasts and pretended they were Billy Bob’s hands.