(to Big Time) Are you having a problem?
He’s having a problem.
stephen steelcock: Stop.
Don’t worry about it, Big Time.
Take a break.
You’ve earned it.
kylie: I have to be out of here by two o’clock.
Where’s the stunt cock?
stephen steelcock: Stunt cock’s forty minutes out.
Why don’t you help him?
kylie: Help?
He’ll need more than help.
I’ve had abortions that were more fun to be with.
stephen steelcock: Tell him that.
I’m sure he’ll find it very arousing.
kylie: (to audience) I get scolded for abusing the male talent, but come now, seriously.
They have one job to do and it’s not as if it’s that unpleasant.
Who wouldn’t love to have their pizza delivered by me?
I had two enemas today.
I’m a team fuckin player.
Big Time’s jerking himself raw and getting nowhere.
You’ll have to believe when I say that performing mouth-to-cock resuscitation is not why I got into this business; but I can’t be late.
When you’re late to pick up your kid it’s thought to be rude and inconsiderate.
When a porn star is late, it’s “child abuse.”
kylie whispers in Big Time’s ear.
Shhh . . .
It’s okay, baby.
(to audience) I take his penis into my mouth.
It’s cold and wet and vaguely reminiscent of egg noodles.
I have to take one of Leeya Springwood’s platinum blond hairs from my lips.
Then I stroke his chest while I suck his cock and I can feel Leeya laughing at me, but it doesn’t matter what her or any asshole pornographer jack-off artist thinks of me.
Or anyone.
Either you love me or you don’t exist.
Big Time gets hard and I climb on top of him.
kylie has sex with her invisible partner.
My eyes are open but I’m lost in space, uploading a little piece of my soul onto your hard drive.
I’m Kylie fucking Grandview, vroom fucking vroom.
I star in porn.
Excuse me?
Star.
And you know what?
It feels great.
The way it feels great to tell your boyfriend you cheated on him.
kylie has sex with her invisible partner. She says to him:
Oh god!
I.
Love.
You.
I love you!
stephen steelcock: Stop!
Did you just say . . . what did you just say?
kylie: (to audience) The sound guy looks over at the lighting guy and everyone looks up at me.
stephen steelcock: Right, whatever.
Haha.
Big Time, could you come on her face now, please?
kylie: (to audience) For this performance, I’d like to thank streak-free foundation, makeup remover wipes, and my first grade teacher who always believed in me.
Click me in Diane’s bathroom.
I have to pick up my daughter.
We don’t do bring-your-kid-to-work day in my family.
kylie cuts a line.
Diane says she needs to “speak with me.”
Which means she wants to remind me again that soon I’ll be too old to blow guys in videos and I’ll have to do it at bus stops.
She means well.
kylie bumps the line.
And it numbs the itch.
kylie scratches her vagina.
Oh, didn’t I tell you?
I’ve got a persistent yeast infection!
You can work that into your fantasy if you want.
I call her “Itchia.”
She starts with a small tingle.
Just to let me know she’s thinking about me.
Then she heats up and burns.
Scratching only makes it hotter, but the need is insatiable.
And no matter what I try she just . . . won’t . . . go . . . away . . .
She sears, and smokes, and whispers:
As graceful as a dancer, itchia sears and smokes and whispers.
itchia: Can I tell you something?
You’re my best friend.
I know we’ve only known each other for five to seven days or whatever, but I just know that we’re going to be together for life.
kylie bumps another line then cleans the residue off the toilet with her finger. She deposits the remains in her top lip. The itch subsides.
kylie: (to audience) I put my little vial on top of the vanity.
Click.
Her face goes numb. She tastes her lip.
I turn on the faucet to simulate handwashing.
This is nice.
I put my sunglasses on out of respect.
So Diane won’t see me roll my eyes.
From the kitchen, shards of Diane still get through.
I’m carrying a little wrapped present that I bought for Ayla.
I always buy her tons of shit.
Click me in Diane’s kitchen.
(to diane) You look good, Diane.
diane: Don’t patronize me.
kylie: (to audience) My mother is very pretty except for black frown lines from always believing the worst about everybody.
Her smile is a twisted knot that says: you are going to hell when you die and I feel really good about that.
(to diane) Just trying to be nice.
diane: I’m in no mood.
kylie: I was thirty minutes late.
Traffic was ridiculous!
diane: Shut up!
Shut up!
Shut up!
diane lowers her voice.
This is very serious.
Your nine-year-old daughter has been teaching the neighbourhood children to have sex.
kylie: So what?
Kids tell each other about sex.
diane: I walked into the family room and found Ayla performing oral sex on the child who lives down the street.
kylie: Oral sex?
Are you serious?
diane: I am very effing serious.
That child is nine years old.
kylie: (to audience) . . . and I get this sick feeling in my stomach.
Click to Ayla in the family room—click back.
(to diane) What did you do?
diane: I bought them pizza and made them promise they’d never tell anyone.
Then I sent him home.
kylie: Really?
Just like that, huh?
diane: Yes, of course.
I told Ayla she has nothing to be ashamed of.
Nothing.
That it’s not her fault.
kylie: Okay, good.
diane: It’s her mother’s fault.
kylie: Diane, fuck!
diane: That child is following you away from God!
kylie: Undermining me is going to fuck her up.
diane: Selling your sex is going to eff her up.
kylie: You were supposed to be watching her!
diane: Don’t make this about me!
That child is crying for help!
kylie: This is about you!
This is all about Diane, Diane, Diane.
How many times was I sacrificed for your new boyfriend?
How many times was I standing alone while one of them—and you quit drinking and all of a sudden you’re a decent human being?
I have news for you, Diane: that’s not how it works!
; diane: You’re a prostitute, my daughter.
Are you listening to yourself?
kylie shakes her head, smiling. She’s been holding this card for a long time.
kylie: You know what, Diane?
I don’t think Ayla needs to see you any more.
diane: Don’t.
Don’t you dare.
She needs me.
kylie: You’re out.
Go practise acceptance or whatever you people do.
diane: You whore.
kylie: Is that any way to talk to your daughter?
ayla enters. kylie’s face changes completely as if diane isn’t even in the room. kylie picks up ayla and holds her.
Ayla, snowflake, I missed you so much!
kylie mouths the words to diane over ayla’s tiny shoulder.
You’re out.
(to audience) Click me at home.
Our condo is on the thirty-second floor.
On rainy days the fog forms on the windows and it’s like we live in heaven.
Ayla’s feet sit on our glass coffee table.
She finished her Kids Meal.
Now she’s drinking a vanilla milkshake.
She looks exactly like me, only smaller.
(to ayla) Snowflake, I love you more than anything in this world.
ayla slurps her milkshake.
ayla: Mom, what’s a narcissist?
n-a-r-c-i-s-s-i-s-t.
Narcissist.
Diane says you’re one, so I want to be one too.
kylie: A narcissist is someone who only loves themselves.
And I love you.
Diane doesn’t know what that word means.
ayla: Did I spell it right?
kylie: Yes you did.
You’re a brilliant little girl.
Now, we need to talk.
ayla: Am I in trouble?
kylie: No, of course not.
You didn’t do anything wrong.
I’m not mad.
ayla: Can I have my present?
kylie: Yes.
ayla: Yes!
kylie: First, you need to tell me what happened with your friend.
ayla: . . . We were playing “movie stars.”
We found this movie.
We were trying some of the stuff.
We memorized the lines by heart so we could say them perfect.
kylie: Really?
Say some.
ayla lifts her posture to recite, stops.
ayla: I don’t want to.
kylie: Ayla, you tell me the truth, okay?
No matter what you’re always going to be my snowflake.
Where did you get the movie?
ayla: Under your bed.
kylie: So you’ve seen the movies under the bed.
You’ve seen me?
ayla: Yeah.
kylie: Go get one.
(to audience) Click me on where I’m like: you don’t know me!
You don’t know me!
Because you don’t.
Look, Oprah, I had no idea what to do.
I had to make it up, right there.
You’ve never even done a show about what to do when your nine-year-old audits your porn appearances.
I had to make it up right there.
Click back.
Ayla thumps back in.
She hands me a box: Naughty Schoolgirls 11.
I’m on the cover.
The movie clicks in and I strut into the classroom in a skirt and pigtails.
It’s the one where I convince a teacher to raise my math grade . . . in exchange for sucking his cock.
Ayla knows every word.
ayla: (as teacher) Kylie, you’ve fallen behind the rest of the class in math.
I’m worried about your performance.
(as kylie) I’m doing my best, sir.
I really like math, honest.
It’s just the way you teach is so boring.
(as teacher) I can teach it more interesting.
(as kylie) I think I know what you mean.
kylie: Ayla, this is what your mom does for a living.
It’s my job.
It’s how I feed you and pay for your toys.
ayla: You’re really pretty.
kylie: (to audience) On screen I take my shirt off and unzip his fly.
ayla: I like when your hair was like that.
kylie: Ayla, none of this is real.
ayla: Looks pretty real to me.
kylie: We’re really having sex, but we’re pretending to like each other.
ayla: Doesn’t look like he likes you.
kylie: These movies don’t teach you about sex.
If you want to know about sex, ask me.
ayla: Gross.
I already know about sex.
kylie: Then let me ask you a question.
Do you know what sex is for?
ayla: Yes, duh.
It’s about reproduction.
r-e-p-r-o-d-u-c-t-i-o-n.
Reproduction.
kylie: That is how you spell reproduction.
You’re very smart.
Only that’s not what sex is about.
ayla: Yes it is.
kylie: Sex is about having a good time.
It’s about fun.
When it’s not done right it’s not fun.
Do you think it’s fun for me to raise you on my own?
It’s not, snowflake.
I do it because I love you so much.
ayla: Are you pretending now?
kylie: No, snowflake.
I’m not pretending.
Let me ask you something else.
Was it fun, with Cooper, or Tanner, or Cody, or whatever his name is?
Did you have fun?
ayla: It felt like nothing.
Then Diane freaked out and yelled at us.
kylie: Was it fun when Diane freaked out?
ayla: No, it was humiliating.
h-u-m-i-l-i-a-t-i-n-g.
Humiliating.
kylie: (to audience) On screen my math teacher pulls my hair and rubs my face into the carpet.
ayla: (as teacher) Oh yeah!
You’re a good girl.
(to kylie) That’s why you do this?
It’s fun?
kylie: Sometimes it’s fun.
Sometimes it’s not.
I do it for you, because I’d do anything for you: fun or not.
ayla: I’d do anything for you too, Mom.
kylie: But you don’t have to.
You can just be my snowflake, right?
ayla: Right.
kylie: Good.
Now stop blowing the neighbour kid, okay?
ayla: Okay.
kylie: Ayla, remember: I’m the only one you can trust.
Okay?
We’re still best friends?
ayla: Ya.
kylie: Forever?
ayla: f-o-r-e-v-e-r.
Forever.
Can I open my present now?
kylie: Oh yeah.
ayla tears open the gift.
ayla: Awesome!
Kidoozie’s My First Beauty Bag girls’ playset features a hard, stylish travel case full with a detachable hand mirror, three curlers, a hair brush, a curling iron, and a motorized hair dryer that really blows air and hums!
Everything you need to stylize your look.
Hair dryer requires two AA batteries (not included).
It’s beauty time!
kylie: (to audience) She holds the mirror and blots foundation on her face in thick clownish gobs.
(to ayla) Just a little.
You don’t want it to be too heavy.
You still want to look like you.
(to audience) On screen the superintendent walks into the classroom for the double penetration.
ayla: (as superindendent) How’d you like to get a little extra credit?
(as kylie) I think my wildest math-grade dreams are coming true.
kylie: (to audience) Here, in our living room in the sky, Ayla applies eyeliner and says:
ayla: Now I can be pretty like you.
kylie: Click me at the clinic for sexual health.
This is all part of the fantasy, right?
Oooh, look at that hot girl with the yeast infection.
I’d like to see her get an AIDS test and a Pap smear.
I’m in the waiting room, trying not to scratch myself when this guy sits down across from me.
He’s got specks of white in his dark hair; his baby blue eyes are looking right at me.
(to guy) Hey.
What the fuck are you looking at?
guy: I thought I knew you from somewhere.
kylie: (to audience) This happens.
People vaguely recognize my face everywhere I go.
One of the symptoms of being a porn star.
And the itch between my legs?
Well that’s a symptom too.
guy: You’re Kylie Grandview, right?
kylie: You’re a fan.
guy: Yes.
Absolutely.
You’re very beautiful.
Can I say that?
kylie: Of course you can.
That’s why I do what I do.
guy: Hey, listen, can I ask you something?
kylie: Well, I don’t escort, you can’t book me, and I’m not in the mood to sign any body parts.
guy: No, no.
Not that.
This is going to sound weird.
Have you ever done any acting?
Like real acting.
Film or TV.
kylie: Do you mean to imply that the performances I give aren’t real?
Because I’ve trained years to attain the depth and versatility necessary to portray the complex range of characters I do.
guy: Really?
kylie: Of course fake orgasms can’t be taught.
You’ve either got the gift or you don’t.
guy: And you’ve got the gift?
kylie: You don’t know the half of it.
guy: The reason I’m asking is that I’m producing a film and the director is considering bringing an adult film actress on board.
You have an otherworldly face.
I’d love to hear you read.
kylie: You’re right, it does sound weird.
Who are you?
guy: I’m Guy.
Producer.
kylie: Guy Producer, you’re trying to pick me up at the clinic for sexual health?
Huff & Stitch Page 5