And that’s when it dawned on me – Kurt Russell could never really be that good. He just isn’t believable. I saw the preview for Poseidon and I nearly vomited someone else’s blood. He is not only mediocre, but he hasn’t been relevant since the early 90’s; I’m surprised he wasn’t in Wild Hogs. Anyway, like I was saying, I realized that Kurt Russell could not and was notacting in Escape from Terry’s Trunk, but was rather a corpse rotting in my Jetta. I smiled. Something was right with the world.
You should have seen it! Whoever chopped his head off did just a fantastic job. If you were to put him sitting up in a chair, with his head back on top, it would have actually looked like he was alive! You should believe me, because I tried. It looked pretty good though, like a sleeping Kurt Russell. Like he was a night guard at some downtown building who had fallen asleep on his shift. You could just walk around in front of the cameras, flipping him off and stealing shit, without him even noticing. And you know he fell asleep watching Seinfeld, or Spike TV. The sound would still be on, and we’d know that he was probably a guard in danger of losing his job, so now that he happened to be dead it wouldn’t really matter. Kurt Russell: Sleeping Security Guard. That sounds so much better than Kurt Russell: Actor.
I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, or possibly smelled his decaying scent, but there was no one in the parking garage so I closed the trunk. I thought to myself, “I hope I murdered Kurt Russell, cut his head off, and put it in the back of my trunk. That would be fantastic.” So, I got a garbage bag, took him to my room, and thought for a while. The television was still on, but it was paused, on a frame of Kevin Costner. It all came rushing back. I began to laugh at my mistake. Oh, Terry, you’re so silly!
You see, I had stumbled upon “The Upside of Anger” the night before. I was high, it was on basic cable, and I enjoy Joan Allen (she’s such a bitch!). But after staring at the television for more than a half-hour I began to get infuriated, simply terrifyingly angry. I’m usually so calm on my marijuana cable-surf days, that I knew something was wrong. Kevin Costner was just plastered all over the screen. This was a Kevin Costner movie. How had I missed that? I had thought it was a romantic sort of chick-flick (favorite genre, anyone?) “Oh,” I said to myself, “he’s in that stage of his career now.” I had always hated him, and I usually would have just changed the channel, but I got that feeling.
I had to kill someone.
Okay, I know what you’re thinking: why was it Kurt Russell who was headless in my apartment, and not Kevin Costner? You’re really going to laugh. Honestly. I got them confused. That’s all! Ever since that 3,000 Miles to Graceland movie, the two are just flip-flopped and crisscrossed in my head. I mean, I’ve always hated them individually, but that movie just made them one big human fuck-up in my eternally fucked-up brain.
To be honest, I really can’t remember the series of events that lead Kurt and his head to my trunk, but I must’ve just spotted him first and got caught up in all the excitement and highly concentrated hatred. Oh well, Kurt Russell had done enough damage to write it off as “justice served.”
Kyle Dickinson wrote this piece. If you like it then by all means read his personal blog www.theunlimitedfreedomcastle.com. It’s this cute project he is doing with illustrator/artist/best friend Kent St. John. It is even gallery friendly. (It has appeared in art galleries) Overall its pretty money. www.theunlimitedfreedomcastle.com.
