She’s standing right in front of me in the bread aisle at Ralph’s on Sunset holding a basket half full of fingernail polish, and I watch her fill up the other side with five bags of powdered donuts. I wonder if I knocked up Milla Jovovich if she would have an abortion, but I would probably be okay with whatever Milla decided to do.
I lose any memory of the purpose of my visit to the grocery store. I’m holding a packet of superglue and a can of beef stew, both of which I reason I must have had some need for or I wouldn’t have been holding them. All I can think about is jerking off to Milla Jovovich’s nude scenes in Return to the Blue Lagoon as a teenager. I can also think about seeing her tits and cunt in The Fifth Element and Resident Evil, which I promptly do when she squats down to get another bag of powdered donuts off the bottom shelf.
I specifically key in on the scene in Resident Evil when she wakes up strapped to a medical examination table wearing only a piece of paper and her pussy is clearly visible. I follow her into a checkout line.
As she checks out, she uses a Ralph’s card, which the computer says yields her no savings on the brands of fingernail polish and powdered donuts she chose to purchase. She pays with a credit card and asks to have her items put in a plastic bag.
I watch her ass as she walks away from the checkout counter. It’s fucking perfect beyond belief.
I rush the cashier through my checkout procedure and pay in cash, carrying my beef stew and superglue out of the store without a bag to expedite my departure. I’m not sure exactly why I’m in such a hurry to watch Milla Jovovich walk to her car but I am.
I see her get into a black Escalade. I get in my own car and fail to resist the urge to follow her, which I do until I see her pull into a driveway at a house in the Hollywood Hills that looks like it must cost more than it’s worth.
That night at home, I eat the beef stew and imagine what it would be like to fuck Milla Jovovich. I wonder what my unfounded odds of ever fucking her are. I give myself a 1.33 percent chance based on the following criteria: (1) I live in Los Angeles, where she must spend a significant amount of time, increasing my chance of running into her randomly; (2) she married the guy who directed The Fifth Element, who is a fucking toad; and (3) she is a supermodel/actress, and all of those types love to party and love to fuck.
Satisfied with my odds, I put on my Resident Evil DVD and jerk off to any scene that features her in little or no clothing. I blow a load but still can’t remember what I bought the superglue for.