27 Feb 2003
ME: “Fuji, get out here and suffer my wrath. See if you can take me. I’m going to fuck you terminally up this time.”
Fuji and I had tussled before, once on an oilrig, twice on a narrow suspension bridge and frequently in bed. She was a master assassin who had never been able to terminate me in years of trying and had eventually decided to bed me instead. Which she did with far more success. Since those few sweaty months in Hiroshima she has viewed me as hers, as Bruce-Who-Shall-Not-Poke-Any-Other-Then-Me-Fuji, or ‘Brucie Babes’ said in her curt Japanese tongue. Needless to say, I don’t feel exactly the same and her incessant interruptions to my attempts to woo the few women I have known whom interest me sufficiently, by attacking me without warning, have become ultimately tiresome. Anyway, I digress. We were going to sort this out once and for all.
ME: “Sophia, darling, do not move, stay hidden. Do not watch, keep your head down.”
SOPHIA: “But Bruce…”
ME: “But nothing sweetness. Be silent. This will not take long.”