Chapter Text
Diane's foot crunched on the gravel as she struggled beneath the weight of a barrel, but she would be damned if she would let that creaking rusted vat of loathing she called a father get the last word on her. Somehow the rage was giving her strength, she thought, as she waddled to the door of the family truck and threw open the door.
Bojack, who she'd barked at to wait in the damn car opened his mouth to protest immediately.
"Diane do you even realize how long I've been waiting here. And don't think another kaleidoscope is gonna--wait what is that? Diane?"
"RRAAUGH!" She roared, hefting the barrel of molten dad into the truck where it bounced on the seat and flopped over. Bojack hurriedly scooted away but before he could protest further, Diane slammed the door closed, squeezing the barrel up against Bojack's face. She stomped around the front of the truck and threw herself into the driver's seat, banged the door shut, and shoved the keys in the ignition. The clunker indignantly groaned to life as she twisted the key so hard it bent slightly out of shape.
She didn't even look at Bojack but she could sense the whining about to start.
She turned a sizzling glare on him.
Horseman's finger wilted where he'd lifted it. The words died behind his teeth. He swallowed their corpses as he found himself crammed in between Diane's shoulder and the rusted barrel of god-knows-what Nguyen. As Diane stomped the gas pedal and peeled rubber away from the dingy Boston pub he frowned, watching his normally crass and moodily sarcastic compatriot seethe with real anger. Something about the fury tugged on him internally, and the feeling gave him gas. Resentfully he admitted to himself that she did smell nice.
As the truck careened down the road into the sunset, Bojack looked away. "I wasn't even going to say anything. Sheesh, sensitive much?"
"Shut it, Bojack ."
The old red pickup screeched to a stop, kicking up several old beer cans that clattered down the hillside from the dump onto the heads of a few passing joggers.
"'Ey! Watch where ya goin' asshole!"
"Yeah these is new jogging suits! Bitch!"
Diane flipped them the bird before kicking open the door and hopping out amidst small piles of deteriorating tissue paper. A small ribbon of it stuck to the heel of her boot as she stalked around to the passenger side again and wrenched open the door. With a grunt, Diane lifted the barrel of father chum out of the truck and staggered backwards, teetering dangerously over the edge of the garbage pile.
Bojack slowly peeked his head out of the door, grimacing as he watched her struggle.
"Uh...Diane, are you sure this is--"
"URRGGAAAHHH," she replied as she heaved the barrel over her head. Bojack cowered for a moment in her dark silhouette. The last of the twilight sun glinted off of Diane's glasses, making her appear like a red eyed hellspawn. For a moment the hellspawn stood resplendent in her dark power except for two stick-like legs quivering under the weight. Then suddenly, the barrel came crashing down on top of the phantom. There was a cascading sound of glass and plastic detritus as Diane and her father crashed into the garbage heaps.
Bojack struggled to free himself from the seatbelt, which wrapped itself around the arm of his jacket. As he heaved his corpulent form from the car seat, the seatbelt-coat arm combo clotheslined him, throwing him down onto the dirt on his ass choking and sputtering. After a moment of flailing, Bojack emptied himself out of the jacket and and ran huffing over to where Diane had fallen. Panting, Bojack threw himself to his knees and started throwing aside old movie posters and crumpled milk cartons. Finally, after a moment of digging through lipstick stained cigarette butts and pages of terribly written musicals tossed out by producers without ever having had their moment to shine, Bojack found Diane with a page from the Holywoo Gazette stuck to her forehead with a piece of old gum.
"Diane? Diane!" Bojack yanked her up from the garbage pile and shook her by the collar. "Diane! Come on don't do this to me! Live! Noooo!" He sobbed theatrically cradling her in his arms.
"She was so young," he sniffled, wiping a single shining tear away from his eye.
"Mmmrrbrgh," came a mumbled response from within Bojack's sweaty embrace.
Bojack gasped, pulling Diane back. With a pop, he plucked the newspaper off of her face and settled her glasses back on her nose. "Oh god, Diane. Oh thank God," he sobbed, crushing her again against him. Diane struggled, gasping for air as she managed to peel the horse off her.
"Blech, Bojack, I'm fine. Ugh, or whatever passes for fine," she said, sitting forward and slumping into her hands. "God, you know, for once, just once , I wish I could have that moment of sweet, unadulterated revenge. Where Diane finally gets to be the righteous, cool, badass chick who gets to kick the asses of the people who constantly put her down….ya know?"
Diane climbed sullenly to her feet then, throwing her arms wide at the view of the setting sun over the Boston Metro Dump. "But noooo , it's always Diane the Klutz, Cryane the Crybaby, Diane the stupid dumb selfish asshole who's too good for her hometown...ughhh." She kicked the barrel of chum spitefully, nearly toppling over again into the rubble before leaning back against the truck again and folding her arms.
Bojack looked on, helplessly captive to his own tied tongue. He was no soft, fluffy Labrador, not a perfect and supportive husband like Mr. Peanut butter, nor was he skilled in the art of the pep talk like Princess Carolyn. As the silence fell heavily over the moment, Bojack was reminded of what he really was, a big dumb stupid piece of shit. His ears drooped as he watched the bleak bitterness scrawl itself across Diane's face again, like he'd seen it do so many times before. He knew that feeling. Bojack followed Diane's gaze out over the hills into the distance and for a moment the two of them just let the darkness of evening overcome them.
Then, one by one, through the inevitable blackness, stars began to shine, winking quietly and blurring with the city lights. With a deep chuffing sigh, Bojack heaved to his feet and dusted off bits of melted cotton candy from his sweater, walking past Diane to the door of the truck. Diane seemed nonplussed as he began rifling through his jacket pockets, though her gaze did slide sideways for a moment before she returned to brooding.
The truck creaked beside her as Bojack leaned against it, taking out a cigarette and flipping open a Zippo. He tapped her on the shoulder with the cigarette carton, from which she pulled the offering and settled it between her fingers as he gave her a light. They drew a communal breath, bleeding smoke from their wounds. Then Diane felt Bojack tapping her on the shoulder with something. She withdrew a letter from his hands.
"What's this?" She asked dubiously.
"Look, sorry I said all that stuff about you while your brothers were around."
"It's all true isn't it?"
Bojack deflected, tapping her shoulder with the envelope again. "I, uh, I found this letter back at the bar. I think it's for you."
Diane took the letter, an exasperated frown deepening over her expression.
"Just read it, ok. I think you'll like it."
Diane sighed, unfolding the letter. "' Dear Diane, it's me, your old penpal...Leo. This definitely isn't your old pal Bojack writing this.'"
"Keep reading," said Bojack, rolling his eyes.
Diane's stare was withering, but she continued on. "' You're a good person, Diane, and that's the most important thing. Even if no one appreciates you, it's important that you don't stop being good. I like how you always bring your own bags to the grocery store and how you're always organized to go places. I like how you chew gum on the airplane so your ears will pop. A lot of people might not appreciate that about you, but I do. Yours forever, Leo' ... That's the best letter he ever wrote me."
"Look, take it from someone with his own shitty parents. Family is a sinkhole and you were right to get out when you had the chance."
"The stupid thing is, even now I still just want them to be proud of me and think I did good. Is that really stupid?"
"Yep."
"No it isn't!"
"Yeah! It is! You want those guys to be proud of you?"
"I guess I was just hoping to get some modicum of closure."
"Closure is a made-up thing by Steven Spielberg to sell movie tickets! It's like true love and the Munich Olympics, doesn't exist in the real world. The only thing to do now is to just keep living forward ."
"Yeah, but every time I come back here--"
"So then don't come back here! What's great about Los Angeles is nobody cares about where you're from or who you are. It's a superficial town where you can worry about stupid shit like keeping your pool clean and what artisanal nuts to put in your salad."
"I do like salad."
"Oh it's the best! Why do you think people keep moving there?"
"Thanks, Bojack."
"The good news is your dad can't hurt anyone ever again ."
Diane stroked her chin for a moment before turning her lips to the side in a sly grin. "Yeah, you know, you're right! Now he's just a chump bucket in a dump, somewhere in the Boston metro area," she cried jubilantly. With renewed gusto, Diane stood from the truck and strode back over to where her father's abomination of an urn lay upturned amid piles of muffin tins and broken vodka bottles. With a clank, she placed the heel of one boot on the chum barrel and looked over her shoulder with a smirk.
"Care to help me do the honors?"
"Do I? Oh hell yes."
Together, Bojack and Diane heaved and rolled the liquified parent over the edge of the hill on which they were standing amid whoops and whistles.
"So long, 'Dad!' See ya never, Asshole!"
"Yeah! You were a terrible parent!" Shouted Bojack through cupped hands. The echo of his their insult followed after the rolling barrel as it bounced and flew over tall heaps of tossed designer handbags and single use salad forks, kicking up plastic artisanal nut packages on its way down.
"Oh, does it look like...it's picking up speed?" Diane wondered, touching her bottom lip worriedly.
"Uhhhh….yeah actually. Whoa, did you see the air that thing caught just now?! If it keeps bouncing like that it might make it over the...oh."
As Bojack and Diane watched helplessly above, Papa Nguyen soared over the gated entrance to the dump, skidding onto the road and continuing to roll down the hill and out of sight, on his one last, final mission. Somewhere, far in the distance, innocently helping an old woman cross the street, Derek Jeter looked up to the sky as the dark shadow of his fate fell over him, blocking out the sun.