I have an ex-girlfriend that I sort’ve want to make my peace with, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.
See, she lives with this guy now, and I know that if I made my peace with her it would cause all sorts of problems. Because, I mean, it would rekindle the flames of passion between us, right? And the guy she’s living with, he’s probably all abusive and possessive. But seeing me again, she’d see this light of hope.
So we’d secretly start seeing each other again. But then the boyfriend would find out, and he’d beat her and then kidnap her and flee to Mexico so he could have her all to herself. So I’d go see my friend, who’s a U.S. Marshal, and convince him that we’d have to go save my girlfriend myself because the local sheriff didn’t believe my story.
So, of course, the Marshal and I would land in a helicopter right in front of the boyfriend on the bridge between the U.S. and Mexico, just a few hundred feet from freedom for this guy. And then, well, I’d have to have a dramatic confrontation with him on the bridge. And as the Marshal pulled the girlfriend to safety, my struggle with the boyfriend would end with us both tumbling to our apparent deaths in the raging torrent below.
And then, I mean, probably about six months later, I’d wake up from a coma in a small Mexican village where I’d been nursed back to health after a local farmer pulled me out of the river. And I’d come back to Washington to be reunited with my girlfriend, but when I went to her house she wouldn’t be there and the neighbors, thinking I was just an old friend, would say she always goes to the cemetary on the 5th of each month – which would be the exact day I fell off the bridge.
So I’d go to the cemetary and she’d be at my grave with some flowers, and she’d be looking sadly at it for a while. And just when I was about to go up to her, the Marshal would come over and put his arm around her, and she’d cry a little into his shoulder. Then they’d walk back to her car hand-in-hand and looking very much in love.
And so I’d step back in the shadows and watch them go and sadly realize that my sudden return would shatter this happiness in their lives and that perhaps it was best just to let things go. So I’d walk up to my gravestone and wipe a tear from my cheek before putting the rose I’d brought for her gently on top of the stone. And then I would leave DC and begin a new life with a new identity out in California somewhere.
So, you know, I don’t think it would be a good idea bury the hatchet with my ex-girlfriend. ‘Cause it’s a real pain in the ass to have to move.