No Ticket: How Kevin Smith Ruined My Life
I was staying with my cousin in New Jersey for the summer, which I did every year. That summer, in particular, was special--my cousin was turning twenty-one. He had been living on his own since he was 18 and his parents lived in some bumfuck town in the southern part of the state, so it wasn't like he was being emancipated from his home or getting his own car or anything. He was pretty much already twenty-one in my eyes, except he had no facial hair and didn't display any signs of having gone through puberty at all. At 5'9 and 250 pounds, he had a heart of gold. I felt sorry for the kid. He called me every day I wasn't visiting him or staying with him, and he had absolutely no friends other from the ones he'd made over the internet. Hell, he'd also never had a girlfriend. Which isn't surprising, because if you judged him solely based on appearance you'd probably figure to yourself the only girl he'd ever spoken to was his mom.
"So Ryan," I said on August 1st, the day he turned twenty-one. "You wanna go out drinking?"
I already knew what he wanted to do. I don't know why I bothered mentioning drinking.
"I wanna go to the signing at JAY AND SILENT BOB'S SECRET STASH!"
Another thing you would know about my cousin purely by just looking at the poor kid--he's a huge Kevin Smith fan. He owns every movie of Kevin's on both VHS and DVD, he has gotten his pudgy hands on any semblance of a comic strip Kevin Smith has ever touched, and he knows everything there is to know about the guy. He also goes on and on about how it's "fate" that Kevin Smith's birthday is a day after his. My cousin is so completely devoted to him that he even thought Jersey Girl was a masterpiece. I have sat through many a Kevin Smith film with him, and I know to keep my mouth closed when doing so. If I pointed out a plothole, I would get thrown across the room and be subsequently subjected to a thorough explanation of the blooper.
"Well, okay. Where is it?"
I sighed. Red Bank, New Jersey wasn't too far off, and luckily my cousin knew a bus route of how to get there since he spent so much time at the goddamn place and treated it like sacred ground. For those of you who don't know what Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash is, it's a store Kevin Smith opened to sell his DVDs, apparel, action figures, and yes, comics, out of. And luckily enough for Ryan, Jersey Girl was going to be released on DVD that day. Kevin Smith decided to have a signing on his birthday.
"He knows," Ryan said, practically shaking, flabs of fat on his stomach shaking up and down with him as he jumped around the dingy, musky apartment that also smelled like the zoo. "He knows it's my birthday, that's why he held the signing today!!"
When we got to "The Stash" as my cousin called it, there was a huge line going all the way down the sidewalk and stopping just at the doorway of an Irish pub. I told him to hold the place in line while I went in for a quick drink. After getting a staredown from the grey-haired asshole tending bar, I decided to hop back in line and wait for Ryan to get his stuff signed, then go back to the apartment.
Forty five minutes later, we were feet away from Kevin Smith. I could barely see him for all the fat fucks getting their shit signed, but what I could see of him was that he reminded me a lot of a penguin. Finally, it was our turn, and my cousin almost jizzed himself as Kevin signed all his crap and, smiling warily, took a picture with him. Then Kevin turned to me and his eyes widened. His smile got bigger.
"What do you want signed?" He asked, looking me up and down. Some nobody from one of the Clerks films was signing stuff next to him, not paying attention.
"Uh...I'm here with him." I pointed at Ryan, who was hyperventilating. "I don't want anything signed. I...uh, like your movies, though." I didn't really, but I was just trying to be nice. Shrugging, I began to walk off before he grabbed my forearm, still staring at me. I looked at the prick, and I swear he had the happiest, most excited expression I've ever seen anyone wear before. His penguin-like figure shook with delight in the chair.
"Can I get your number? You're perfect for a new movie I'm shooting."
"Uh..."I was taken aback for a minute. People were still flashing pictures, and I'm sure they'd all go home with digital cameras full of photos of this fat fuck having an orgasm over me and holding onto my arm. I wrenched my arm away and looked at Ryan, who nodded excitedly. "No thanks, I'm not much of an actor."
"I'll teach you!" He yelled eagerly. People in line were impatient, but he didn't seem to care. "Please, just let me get your number."
"Fine." I grabbed a comic off his little desk and took his sharpie, then wrote down my cousin's home number on it. "Okay?" I pushed the paper towards him and he grinned even wider, then adjusted his glasses, looking up at me. I definitely wasn't expecting him to be so weird--more pompous and "laid back". And if he was acting, he was a real prick for doing it. When we were exiting the store, I swear I could hear him telling people that the "guy he'd just met was it, was perfect for the role."
On the way home, my cousin would not stop gushing about how lucky I was for Kevin to ask for my number like that and consider me for one of his movies. "You know, being discovered is just so lucky, especially by him. Maybe you can even get me a role in the movie, huh, Jaime?" I swear he repeated that in many different ways all through that night. The entire bus ride, all he did was stare at Kevin's signature all over his shit and sigh.
I went to sleep at about 12:00 am that night. I was way too tired to stay up and try to jack off to the softcore porn on HBO. Judging by the alarm clock, I woke up at 4:00 AM to take a piss. The rest of that day was basically us watching Kevin Smith films and me buying Ryan's first six pack for him at the convenience store he lived above. I drank most of it, since Ryan almost gagged after his first sip. I flushed the toilet and stumbled back to bed, then tried to drift back to sleep. The phone rang.
Grumbling, I put the pillow over my ears and waited for it to stop. It did. Then it started to ring again.
Who the fuck calls at 4:00 AM? I thought as I sat up and grabbed the phone off the charger, then pressed 'TALK.' "What?" I mumbled into the phone.
"Hey, is this that guy I met at the signing?" The person on the other line said.
"Who's this?" I muttered. "Penguin?"
"Are you talking about Batman? I love Batman!"
Silence. I blinked a few times and then stared at the wall in front of me. "Kevin Smith?"
"Yeah, it's me. Listen, can I come over? Also, I never caught your name."
I continued to stare at the wall, blinking.
"It's fucking....4 AM...Kevin Smith."
"Is that a good time? Good. Okay, I'll be over in no time. You're Ryan Boisclare, right? That's what the number's listed under!"
"That's my cousin's name..."
"Do you live with your cousin? What's YOUR name?" He giggled.
"I'm fucking...Jaime. Listen, don't call me again, okay?"
Angrily, I hung up the phone and laid back down, then put the pillow over my head. After a while I began to drift off to sleep, my dream in vivid color. I was in a mall and a game show was about to take place auctioning off stuffed penguins with glasses...
"Jaime. Jaime, wake up." Someone shook my shoulder. I blinked, annoyed, and looked up at whoever had touched me.
He nodded, smiling.
"You need to get the fuck out of here. Now!" I didn't really care how loud my voice was. In fact, I hoped everyone outside knew that Kevin Smith was a sexually deprived deviant, judging by the way his pants were down around his ankles and he was wearing very tight briefs with the Superman insignia. "Kevin Smith, get the fuck out."
"Get...the fuck...in..." he murmured, pressing his rotund shape against me. I pushed him away and punched him the face. He smiled after a dazed moment and walked towards me again. "I want you, Bartleby. I want you!"
"I'm calling the police." I grabbed the phone again, my eyes so heavy from exhaustion I almost fell over. Kevin Smith just walked up to me again, whispering "Jennifer Lopez, Jennifer Garner, now Kevin Smith" at me, eyes half closed. The operator picked up and I told her that I had an intruder in my house who was trying and failing at having sex with me. I hung up and put the phone back on the charger, then pushed him away again.
"I called the cops, you fat fuck. You need to go."
"NO! Just...one more..."
The lights turned on. Standing in the doorway was Ryan, looking from Kevin Smith in his boxers to me, also in my boxers because I was sleeping.
"What the hell?" Ryan began crying, tears welling up in his eyes. He shook his head. "Please...tell me...this is for your movie, Kevin."
Kevin got down on his knees and hugged my legs. I tried to push him off of me, but he clung on, sobbing. "I'm so lonely, Jaime. I'm just so lonely." He began gnawing on my ankles. I looked at Ryan, helpless.
"Could you pull him off of me?"
Ryan just shook his head, tears spilling down his chubby cheeks. "NO TICKET!" He yelled.
"What?" I looked at him in confusion. "Get this guy off of me. This isn't a fucking joke."
Ryan just sobbed in the doorway for a few more minutes while Kevin held onto my legs. Finally, the police arrived, and luckily Kevin had left the door open so they could enter and remove him. One cop stayed behind to talk to me while Ryan, crying hysterically, watched Kevin and the cop drive away in the cruiser out the window. After the cop left with his report, Ryan turned to me.
"Okay Ryan, what the fuck do you want from me? An apology that your stupid, talentless hack of a favorite director or whatever the fuck he calls himself these days stalked me instead of you?"
"NOOOOOOO TIIIIIIIIIICKKKKKKKKEEEEEEETTTTT!" Ryan charged toward me and completely knocked me from the bedroom to the living room. The giant bookcase where he kept all his Kevin Smith purchases fell toppled onto me, and everything went black.
I am now paralyzed from the waist down because of my cousin's attack. He was committed to a mental hospital somewhere in Massachusetts and, two years later, I haven't seen him or heard anything from him. Kevin Smith's arrest never made the news because, well, no one really gives a fuck about Kevin Smith. One night after my nurse went out to get me some KFC (lucky for me, she had a thing for guys who were in wheelchairs and we began dating) I laid in bed and flipped through the movie channels I could afford because of my extensive disability checks and Jersey Girl was on. I watched a few minutes of it before finally flipping the channel to see if something better was on. Mallrats was on the next HBO channel. Shaking my head, I flipped the channel again to find Dogma was on. Just as I was about to turn the channel again, I heard it...."No ticket."