Pay No Attention

He Says, She Says: Don't You Want Me?

He Says

by Philip Oakley

You were working as a waitress In a cocktail bar when I met you.  I picked you out, I shook you up, and turned you around -- turned you into someone new.

Now five years later on, you've got the world at your feet.  Success has been so easy for you.

But don't forget it's me who put you where you are now.  And I can put you back down too.

Don't, don't you want me?  You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me.  Don't, don't you want me?  You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me. 

It's much too late to find you think you've changed your mind.  You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry.

* * * * *

She Says

by Susan Ann Sulley

I was working as a waitress In a cocktail bar.  That much is true.  But even then I knew I'd find a much better place, either with or without you.

The five years we have had have been such good times.  I still love you.

But now I think it's time I lived my life on my own.  I guess it's just what I must do

He Says, She Says: Barry Manilow v. Mandy

He Says

by Barry Manilow

I remember all my life
Rainin' down as cold as ice
Shadows of a man
A face through a window
Cryin' in the night
The night goes into

Mornin', just another day
Happy people pass my way
Lookin' in their eyes
I see a memory
I never realized
How happy you made me, oh Mandy

Well you came and you gave without takin'
But I sent you away, oh Mandy
Well, you kissed me and stopped me from shakin'
And I need you today, oh Mandy

Standin' on the edge of time
Walked away when love was mine
Caught up in a world of uphill climbin'
The tears are in my mind
And nothing is rhymin', oh Mandy

Well you came and you gave without takin'
But I sent you away, oh Mandy
Well, you kissed me and stopped me from shakin'
And I need you today, oh Mandy

Yesterday's a dream
I face the mornin'
Cryin' on a breeze
The pain is callin', oh Mandy

You came and you gave without takin'
But I sent you away, oh Mandy
You kissed me and stopped me from shakin'
And I need you

* * * * *

She Says

by Mandy

Oh my God, you guys, you'll never guess who called me. 

You remember that whiny Barry guy I dated a few years back?  The trembly one who cried on a dime and was always writing me all those sticky poems and songs?

I have no freaking idea how he got my number.  I mean, he's the reason I got an unlisted number in the first place. 

Anyway, I totally thought I'd gotten rid of him at last but no -- he totally called me and woke me up at some ungodly hour in the morning on Sunday.  Something about the rain making him think of me. and the pain calling and all kinds of shit like that.  Yecchh!

Well,  somewhere along the line the nut-job got it into his head that he's the one who broke up with me.  Can you believe that?  He's, like, totally delusional.  I mean, the only reason I didn't break up with him weeks before I did was because I was afraid he'd commit suicide or something.  I spent most of the relationship consoling him and soothing him when he'd be sitting there crying and trembling over the least little thing.  I couldn't wait to get rid of him.

So now what the hell do I do?  Should I change my number again, or should I maybe have Julio talk to him?  I mean, maybe he's harmless, but he, like, totally skeeves me out.

Oh Jesus, I hope he doesn't write another song about me.  It's so freaking embarrassing.

 

He Says, She Says: Voldemort v. Petunia Dursley

He Says

by Voldemort

Do not think that you can escape me, Harry Potter.

Your death is inevitable.  Do you truly believe that a mere teenage wizard of no particular talent can defeat the Dark Lord?  You shall perish as your parents perished. 

True, the bumblings of my servants allowed you to escape me once or twice.  They have been punished by the Dark Lord as their incompetence deserves.  And I have allowed myself the lazy luxury of toying with you, as a cat does a rodent.  But your ultimate painful death will follow as surely as the rodent will be dismembered and devoured.

Your precious "love" cannot save you, Harry Potter.  Prepare to die in agony.

* * * * *

She Says

by Mrs. Petunia Dursley, Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

Well for the good Lord's sake, can you hurry up about it? 

What kind of Dark Lord are you, anyway, that can't manage to slaughter one obnoxious teenager?  My little Duddums has done him more damage than you have.

Time and time again, your smug incompetence has let him escape.  I mean, OK, unfortunately, you can't get him at my house, thanks to Dumbledore's bloody spell.  (The bearded weirdo could at least have had the courtesy to ask me before putting a spell on my house and plunking the damn brat with me.)  And I certainly understand how Dumbledore might be one too many for you at Hogwarts.

But what about the Hogwarts train?  Every year you know exactly where he'll be, on a train in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of children.  It's not like they guard the damn thing -- the dementors got on easily enough.   If you're such a bad-ass Dark Lord, it should be a piece of cake to blast the train to hell, and send Harry along with it.  Not to mention that every twenty minutes the damn kid is going AWOL and wandering off into the forest or into Pigtown or whatever other hair-brained schemes enter his filthy little brat mind.   You've had dozens of opportunities.  Just kill the damn boy already!

But no, you have to devise these elaborate schemes.  Then instead of just killing him like any sensible Dark Lord, you have to "duel" with him or have long pompous chats with him.  Then he gets away, as anyone could predict, and back he is at my house, messing up my kitchen.

I've lost all patience with you.  I'll just have to kill the filthy brat myself.

He Says, She Says: Heathcliff v. Cathy

He Says

by Heathcliff

Cathy!  Cathy!  Confound you, how could you marry Edgar Linton? If he loved you with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love you as much in eighty years as I could in a day.  Because misery, and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will did it.

I've lived through a bitter life since last I heard your voice, and I struggled only for you.  I know that you have treated me infernally--infernally!  Do you hear?  And if you flatter yourself that I don't perceive it, you are a fool; and if you think I can be consoled by sweet words, you are an idiot; and if you fancy I'll suffer unrevenged, I'll convince you of the contrary, in a very little while!

Oh God!  It is unutterable!  I cannot live without my life!  I cannot live without my soul!

* * * * *

She Says

by Catherine Earnshaw Linton

Oh for God's sake.  Whatever Edgar's faults may be, at least he doesn't beat his head against trees and splatter blood all over the garden. 

What did you expect me to do after you ran off?  I had the choice of living in a beautiful mansion with a handsome, educated, well-dressed gentleman who loves me devotedly, or alternatively, waiting around at home with my alcoholic brother hoping the plough-boy decided to come home some day.  At least Edgar bathes on a regular basis.

Let me see -- you've killed my brother, married my sister-in-law and beat her violently, and attempted to kill her dog.  Next you'll go digging up corpses.

Get some counseling and maybe we'll talk. 

He Says, She Says: Charles Bovary v. Emma Bovary

He Says

by Charles Bovary

I am blessed with the loveliest and most devoted of wives.  No Parisian woman has more taste or is more accomplished than my Emma.  Sometimes I gaze at her across our parlor, which she has redecorated so tastefully, and cannot believe how lucky I am to have married such a beautiful creature.   

Every day she surprises me with some new elegant gesture for my pleasure, whether it be new sconces for the candles, an ivory work-box on the mantelpiece, a new dress so that she'll look her best for me, or a new Parisian dish for dinner.  As for me, I'd be happy to wear my old gloves and trousers, but Emma keeps me up to snuff, throwing away my old things and making me replace them.  She is the most devoted mother to our beautiful little daughter, and yet she finds time to go to Paris every week for music lessons, so that she can play for me after dinner.

I have also been fortunate to have good friends.   Sadly, our neighbor Rodolphe moved away.  I think Emma misses her riding lessons with him very much, but she seems to enjoy her music lessons, and even if it takes her away from me for a bit each week, it is worth it to see her happy.  My dear friends Monsieur Homais and Monsieur Lheureux have been unfailingly loyal in assisting my career and financial interests.  My young friend Léon has also been a blessing to me and my family.  He and Emma can talk for hours about poetry and music.

Ah!  What man is so blessed as I?

* * * * *

She Says

by Emma Bovary

Dear God, I'm so bored I could scream.

Just look the stolid, self-satisfied fool.  I cannot bear his pudgy face and squinty little eyes.  I despise the way he gulps his soup and sucks his teeth.  He's a loser from his clod-hopping boots to his out-of-fashion cravat, and a complete failure in his profession to boot.  What a bumble he made with that operation on the hunchback or the clubfoot or whatever it was.  Idiot! 

If it weren't for my "music lessons" in Paris I'd go mad.  When Rodolphe left town, I thought I'd never love again, but now I know that Léon is my true love.  He writes poetry just for me and makes love to me for hours.  Ah that first time we made love, like mad people, in that cab driving all around town!  I tremble with longing as I think of it.   

So what if it costs a bit to go back and forth to Paris every week, and to maintain that apartment?  Monsieur Lheureux lends me all I need, and it is easy to pass the bills off to Charles as bills for music lessons or household bills.  He never knows the difference.  Idiot!  He's lucky I stay with him at all, that's all I can say. 

Ah!  I was made for love and passion!

He Says, She Says: Smokey v. Fluffy

He Says 

by Smokey

No more, I say!!!  No more!!!

I defy you! In the name of all that is holy! No more! I will not tolerate these transgressions against this household and my honor! You … you … yoooooooouuuuuuuuUUU!!!  NO creeping along my hallway, sneaking into the apartment next door, making sounds outside our doorway, … I know you are planning to MURDER US ALL!!

Hey, do you have any of that cheese stuff?  Cheese? Creamy, fatty, salty cheeeeeeese?! I sure would like some cheese or some bacon if you happen to have any around.  Do you?

HEEYYYY!!! Who the @#$ is that out there! I thought I told you creeps no creeping around!

I wonder what Fluffy is doing under the sofa.  HEY FLUFFY, … what are you doing under the  …. Yeeeeeeeouch!!!!!!! Again with the friggin’ claw in the nose … you little @$# … yeah, takes one to know one, I know.

Can we, can we, huh, can we, huh? I really would like to, if it is possible, go outside … Fascinating! I know Coco peed out here somewhere … I WAS RIGHT!! COCO PEED RIGHT HERE! HERE, SMELL FOR YOURSELF!  Damn, that smells nice.

HEY, what gives?! WHO the @#$ are these people walking on my block.  Wow this smells interesting. And you! With the garbage cans! Like-ta scare me half to death … no false moves I tell ya! Can we go back inside now, I mean hel-lo-o, it’s fricking raining out here, already!

Hey, I wonder what Fluffy is doing under the couch.  “HEY FLUFFY, WHAT ARE YOU …. Yyyyeeeeooouuuucch !! ...

HEY, YOU … IN THE HALLWAY … DON’T MAKE ME COME OUT THERE AND GET MEDIEVAL ON YOUR @#$$!!!

* * * * *

She Says

by Fluffy

The next time you take that mongrel out for an airing you had damned well better leave him out there, or I shall be extremely put out.

At the very least, you might do something to discourage his continual yapping at his own reflection and imaginary intruders in the hallway.  I recommend a sound clout to the head, not a scratch behind the ears.  But no, you positively encourage him.  I'm not sure which sickens me more: his sychophantic padding around behind you with wagging tail and rapt admiration in his eyes, or your condescending caresses and praise of his idiotic behavior.  Riff-raff, both of you.

The imbecilic canine even follows me around, although I have done my utmost to inform him of my need for personal space.  It has come to the point where I cannot even nap under the couch without being driven to gouge his nose at least once, despite my distaste for touching that disgusting portion of his anatomy.  Speaking of which, if you knew what he'd been doing earlier, you might not be so keen to let him lick your face in that revolting manner.  But then, you are a simpleton.

I am left with no alternative but to piss in your shoes.