When I was 14, the world showed me Jessica Alba. And, I have to tell you, like many boys my age, I nearly had a heart attack of boners.
No, it's true!
Seriously though, Idle Hands came out when I was eighth grade and had only recently come to terms with puberty. So, for the world to say, "Hey man, you're becoming an adult, try to be cool about it," and then show me Jessica Alba in Idle Hands, well, it seemed like a super dick move. It was like introducing a kid to candy by handing him a cough drop and then, an hour later, saying, "Oh, by the way, these are Sour Patch Kids."
You can't do that to a kid in corduroy! He's got enough troubles!
So, at 14, when sex dreams had the same quality as nightmares, I saw Jessica Alba who had just turned 18. And, oh my goddamn hell, did Hollywood exploit that kitten.
The character of Molly was designed to make every teenage boy's brain explode. All she did was hang out in her pajamas or underwear and say cute or sexy things. But she wasn't a skank (for the most part), so it just seemed like she just wanted that chump idiot Anton Tobias. She was pursuing him. Even Jessica Rabbit and Roger Rabbit made more sense to me.
She dressed as a sexy angel that Halloween and she even lost half of her clothes that fateful night. And you felt bad for her. All you could do was feel sorry that she wasn't safe at home in her bedroom. But, oh man, all you wanted to do was be in that bedroom with her...until you realized you'd probably screw it up. Shit, what would you do as a teenage boy if you actually had the chance to be with Molly? Well, you'd probably cry because you knew deep down inside that you'd be letting her down, no matter how hard you tried. Goddamn, even in my mid-twenties, I would still be intimidated if I had the chance with that gnarly sex kitten.
I mean, seriously, even now, she's the hottest fictional character I can think of. And, yes, I agree that it's weird that the character is now seven years younger than me, but...whatever. Come to think of it, it's probably fair to assume that Molly has had lasting psychological effects on me. I've considered this recently. I think, what if Molly were real? And all I can come up with is that it's good she's not. Why? Because she could probably lead an entire army of men to murder entire countries if she promised them her nipples. Shit, if she were a Russian spy that promised full nudity, I'd get a job with the Pentagon, go through all that training and career-building, just to have the chance to sell her American missile secrets years later.
Damn, you know what? If you put me in a room full of nuns and Molly said I'd have to stab just one of the nuns to touch her legs, I would stab every nun in there, just to improve my chances. I would sell friends up the river and then burn the river (it'd be a river of oil!) if it meant I could maybe, just maybe, hang out in her bedroom and lay my hand on her butt.
Oh, what's that, Molly? Kidnap children? They're yours! Who did you want dead? Don't even worry about it! I nuked half the planet!
Seriously though, did you see her in her underwear in that movie? If I had been there, I would've killed everyone within a 50-yard radius because there might've been a slight chance they saw what I saw and I'd rather to be the only person alive who did.
For Molly, I would eat meat, do heavy drugs and even listen to The Eagles. Fuck, man, I would sky-dive if that was my only way to reach her. And it's not like some ultra-heroic love thing. I definitely don't love Molly. We totally wouldn't work out long-term. I already know this. Maybe we could casually date?
Maybe friends with benefits would be ideal here.
But I just remember seeing that movie in high school and thinking, "Oh my god...I would actually kill for a person." I was terrified of myself for a long time, but then I came to terms with the fact that no playful sex kitten like Molly would truly exist. And, thus, the world remained safe. Her and I probably have nothing in common, except that we both know that she is extremely, extremely hot.
Again, it wouldn't be a relationship. It would just be like...the Olympics of stalkerdom.
I'd be like her zombie.
Would I enjoy throwing all those puppies into a spinning boat motor, if she asked? No, of course not! I'm not a monster, people. But would I do that for her? Yes, absolutely. Because I would want to see her in her underwear afterward. If she was going to be naked, I'd probably rent a cement truck and fill it with all those puppies, just to get the job done quicker as they slide into a gruesome death. "Oh no, now I have to shower to get off all the blood," I'd say casually, all dazed and thinking of Molly. Well, then why don't I just wash all this puppy blood off in the shower that I take it with Molly? Bam. Guilt gone! Puppies? What puppies? All I saw when the blades were churning was Molly and she was probably saying something totally scandalous to me.
Oh man, and then when she dressed as an angel in that movie? Ugh. I would've at least tortured a senior citizen. When her clothes get ripped off and she's in her underwear? I'd probably push people I know off of a cruise ship. As they're drowning, I'd yell, "Sorry, but enjoy the afterlife! I'm gonna experience Heaven on Earth." And, again, if she were promising sweet, sweet booty, I'm almost certain I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't fly a Greenpeace plane right into an elementary school of orphans.
I know, I know! I know how it sounds. It sounds stupid and terrible. But, seriously, have you seen Molly? In fact, that would be my defense. "Excuse me, your honor, but have you seen them titties? No? Well, then I present them as Exhibit Cs!" Haha! And then the jury would laugh and I'd walk free. But what would I do then? Well, I'd grab a box of ice cream and lingerie and then head to Molly's house to do whatever she wanted me to. Massage, or maybe murder, it wouldn't matter, because I'd do it. And I'd do it with a senseless grin. Sorry. Whatever.
Fuck you, everybody else!