Brad Pitt's Twelve Days of Christmas
Twelve days of Christmas. Twelve Monkeys. Ocean’s Twelve. Oh God, what’s the point?
Eight maids a milking. If I lay here. If I just lay here.
On the seventh day of Christmas, I went to your house. I tried to taste the life of a simple man. It didn’t work.
On the sixth day of Christmas. Mazel tov.
On the fifth day of Christmas. What do you get the man who has everything (and nothing)? A CD by Maroon Five? A carton of Five Alive?
I think you know what my true love got for me. It comes in a glass bottle, it’s made by Chanel and it’s for ladies. It is at once perplexing, ominous, terrible. Watch, I can communicate it to you wordlessly…
On the first, second, third and fourth days of Christmas my true love gave to me a whole bunch of different kinds of birds. Why the hell would she do that? Every second spent looking after birds is a second closer to death. Plans disappear, dreams take over. It’s not a journey. Every journey ends but we go on. What’re you talkin’ about, Thelma?
Let’s not get caught.
What do you mean?
Let’s keep goin’?
I’ve wet myself. Inevitable.