Hypothetically Speaking

What would Mickey Rourke's voice do in my current situation?

That's a hypothetical question, there is no real need to answer it but I do find it entertaining to think about. Just imagine darkness all around and the disembodied voice of Mickey Rourke present. In the darkness, Mickey Rourke's voice has just lost something very dear to it, has found itself completely uncertain about it's own sanity and worst of all, it has found itself without any alcohol.

"Hey, what gives? In your hypothetical situation you cant even manage a bottle of good whiskey?" it would say.

I would ponder it's statement for a moment... "How in the hell did Mickey Rourke's voice reach out to me like that," I would think. "It does have a point though, I brought it there so I can supply it with as much liquor as it wants."

"Atta boy," the voice would respond.

"So what's all this shit about involving me in a hypothetical situation, I mean, I've got shit to do with Mickey, I can't just hang around in abstract concepts all fuckin' night," it would say.

"Here's the score Mickey Rourke's voice, I didn't imagine that my hypothetical situation would actually come to pass. If I knew I had this kind of power it'd be Scarlett Johansson's everything in here, but now that you're here I might as well get some kind of use out of you."

"I aint queer," the voice tells me.

"Don't flatter yourself voice, I have a great respect for your origin but it's not like that." I say.

"Then what is it? What do you want?" It asks.

"I don't know yet... I'm still amazed that you're actually here. Alright gimme a second to think... give me some of that figurative whiskey." I tell it.

"With what? I'm a fuckin voice, unless you want me to sing it a song you're shit out of luck." it tells me.

The voice would certainly have a right to be annoyed with me. After all, if I were suddenly whisked away to an eternal darkness guided only by intangible aspects then I would be quite betwixt myself. Still though, it has happened and there is no use bitching about it. I would say that, and add,

"we outta make the best of this time together... maybe something can be gained."

"Gained he says... listen, you can mumble and write to yourself and have a jolly fucking time in imagination land but while you're in here with me the real world keeps spinning and shitting in all directions. If you're going to get something done, you're going to have to get real." The voice seemed to make a good point... I wonder if that's what Mickey Rourke would have said.

"So... I should just... get up and do?" I would ask.

"Yeah... I mean hell, that's how shit gets done isn't it? Then, while you're doing shit and fixing shit, you'll come across the answers you need. Life's got a funny way of workin out like that."

"Hrrm... good call. Well then, you can leave anytime you want, I mean hell, it's not like theres bars in here." I'd tell the voice.

"Yeah but I didn't wanna leave till you had your head on straight... I guess... People usually only ask Mickey for favors, was nice to do somethin on my own ya know?" would say the voice.

"I getcha. Good words to, you make a lot of sense for a disembodied voice. I feel renewed."

"Good deal... by the way, mind if I?"

"Yeah, take the imaginary whiskey, my gift to you." I'd tell it.

"Thanks pal, you're alright."

"Give Mickey my best, I'm a fan of both of yours."

"Hahaha, still talkin to himself... that guy needs a drink or a woman..." it would speak before disappearing into the darkness.