Maybe you heard the rumor that Johnny Depp is in debt. Maybe you heard that he spends 2 million dollars a month --- $30,000 of which reportedly goes to booze. Oh yeah, and maybe you also read that he spent 3 million dollars to shoot the remains of Hunter S Thompson out of cannon in Colorado. My name is Sally Fields (in no relation to the actress) and I had heard all of this and more when I got the surprise of a lifetime when I was just minding my own business, while I was ironically working at the cannon store last summer.
Let's start from the beginning. It was a normal Monday morning and I was working at the cannon store in Aspen, Colorado. Not much happens around here in the winter, seeing as the civil war marchers only do their pretend battle in July (and the wealthier ones all chose to go celebrate in Gorgeia. Le sigh.) I'm sitting pretty with a bottle of jack and a good old fashioned book, ready to finish up the work week. That's when IT happened.
Ding dong. the doorbell rings it's incessant hum, letting me know another uncultured ding bat has entered the store. I look up, prepared to be annoyed. From under a fedora, I hear...
"Schuss me miss. I'm looking for a cannon."
Something about that voice is strangely familiar. And the eyes... eyes eyes eyes, big deep brown ones with elephant lashes and a tinge of "been there done that." Wait a minute!!!!!! Is this freaking JOHNY DEPP???? seeming to read my mind, he spoke quickly.
"Now listen, i'm not one for fusses, so let's just keep it down shall we."
I glanced outside to a where a gaggle of girls passed by on their way home from school.
"Sure," I said. "No problem." My hands were shaking, but I decided right then and there to pretend celebrities were always coming into the cannon store to buy dynamite and cannons. I'd once seen Kate Hudson on a carriage ride in Aspen, so it wasn't really that much of a stretch, was it?
"This cannon costs..." I fumble with the price tag. " 2 million to rent for the weekend. it's expensive I know... but you aren't going to find a better cannon in the whole area."
johny saddled make it three mil and you got yourself a deal.
a whole other million?
keep the extra million and buy yourself something pretty.... like a couple months worth of booze.
what do you need a cannon for?
"See this?" He lifted up a small coke baggie of what looked like dirt and shook it in my face. Thank god I hide my confusion well under my two inch thick hipster glasses because I didn't have a clue what he was getting at. Luckily he continued (I did not yet know that chattiness was one of Johnnie's weaknesses.)
"These are the ashes of Mr. Thompson."
My eyes bulged. "Kenyan Thompson is here too?!?!"
"No. Hunter S Thompson. The American journalist and author, and the founder of the gonzo journalism movement."
"Hunter S Thompson," I whispered, reaching for the necklace around my neck that had a small inscription.
I held out the locket for him and he fingered it (as he would finger me later). He read the quote out loud.
"The world is still a weird place, despite my efforts to make clear and perfect sense of it. - Hunter S Thompson."
"You know that quote?" He squinted at me and I held my shoulders taller.
"Yes sir. I'm about to graduate in creative writing from community college."
"There are girls in Los Angeles, like those goddamnd feminists who have made a billion dollars and don't know as much about wring as I can tell you do just from the necklace around your neck."
I was speechless. I'd always known I was special, but here was recently accused abusive husband Johny Depp telling me it in the flesh. He took a step closer to me.
"These are the wickets," I blubbered on hopelessly. Ugh Sally, be quiet!!!!
He came up behind me and cupped a hand firmly around my waist. He took my hair and pulled me back so I was facing him, kissing me hungrily. the unmistakable twinge of passion in my tummy, arching back.
TO BE CONTINUED...