Back. The Fuck. Up. (part 1)

The following is a scene from the biographical movie of my life, working title: Back. The Fuck. Up.

INT. - 1 AM. A curvy and fabulous redhead (Haylah) lies naked in a tangle of sheets on the bed, breathing heavily, her face flushed.  A two hour sex-marathon has just ended between her and The Rock Star, aka Johnny Softcakes.  Johnny Softcakes has spent the last 40 minutes moving Haylah around, flipping her over, bending her in different contortions, and positioning her limbs like she was a Gumby doll in an attempt to get her into the one position he likes to have an orgasm in.  The one position, by the way, that even an anorexic midget gymnast couldn't hold for more than five seconds.

Half an hour after Haylah's last orgasm, Johnny Softcakes finally comes, then gets up from the bed and stretches his long, lean body, and walks towards the bathroom.  He pauses in the doorway and looks back over his shoulder. 

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: We've gotta talk.

Haylah sighs.  She gets up and goes to the bathroom to take a quick shower.  Johnny Softcakes is throwing the used condom in the trash. 

HAYLAH: What's up?

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: I think the condom slid off me for a second so you need to go get the morning after pill tomorrow.

HAYLAH: I'm on the pill.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: Yeah, but just in case.  Cuz I think the condom slid a little and I don't want a kid.

HAYLAH: Did the condom come off?

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: No.

HAYLAH: Did the condom break?

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: No.

HAYLAH: I think we're OK.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: But it felt like it slid, so something could have come out of it and into you.

HAYLAH: We used condoms.  With spermicide.  And I'm on the pill.  We're fine.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: No, you need to get the morning after pill tomorrow.  I think the condom slid.  I don't want a kid.

Haylah sighs and steps into the shower. 

HAYLAH: Fine. I'll get the morning after pill tomorrow.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: What would you do, you know, if you were?  Cuz I don't want a kid.

Haylah peeks out the shower curtain at Johnny Softcakes.  She can't tell if he's being an ass on purpose or if he really is that paranoid.  The look of dumb concern makes her think he really is that paranoid.

HAYLAH: I guess I'd take care of it.

JOHNNY SOFTCAKES: OK.  Cuz I don't -

HAYLAH: I know, you don't want a kid. [under her breath: Douchefuck]

Please refer to No Make-Believe Stories Here; It's All True for the background on Back. The Fuck. Up.