James Franco Wrote A Short Story About Not Having Sex With Lindsay Lohan

June 10th, 2014 // 24 Comments

In his ongoing war to make sure everyone knows he didn’t bang Lindsay Lohan despite appearing on her celebrity sex list, French colonial auteur James Franco has written a “fictional” short story for Vice entitled Bungalow 89 which recalls a “fictional” night not sticking his penis in a “fictional” Lindsay Lohan. And so like any tale of non-sexual intrigue, it starts with an intruder:

There was a Hollywood girl staying at Chateau Marmont. She had gotten a key to my room from the manager. I heard her put the key into my front door and turn it, but I had slid the dead bolt and that thing—I don’t know what you call it; it’s like a chain but made of two bars—that kept the door from opening.
She said, “James, open the door.”
Across the room was a picture of a boy dressed as a sailor with a red sailor cap, and except for his blondish hair (closer to my brother’s color) he looked like me.
She said, “Open the door, you bookworm punk blogger faggot.”

And what happened next is pure Franco. For you see, this girl wanted to have him carnally, but James Franco understands in life there is a greater bond. And that bond is pretentiously reading Salinger to a coked out kleptomaniac he’s lucky didn’t stab him in his sleep and take his wallet like her mother taught her so many years ago in Shanghai:

Once upon a time a guy, a Hollywood guy, read some Salinger to a young woman who hadn’t read him before. Let’s call this girl Lindsay. She was a Hollywood girl, but a damaged one. I knew that she would like Salinger, because most young women do. I read her two of the Nine Stories, “A Perfect Day for Bananafish” and “For Esmé—with Love and Squalor.” “Bananafish” was great because it has a nagging mother on the other end of the phone line, nothing like Lindsay’s real mother, but still, the mother-daughter thing was good for her to hear. And there’s the little girl in the story, Sibyl, and the pale suicide, Seymour, who kisses her foot and talks about bananafish with her, those fantastic phallic fish who stick their heads in holes and gorge themselves—it should be called “A Perfect Day for Dickfish”—and then, bam, he shoots himself.
Then I read “For Esmé,” which is basically the same story as “A Perfect Day for Dickfish.” A man goes to war. He is traumatized. Then he is saved by the innocence of a young girl. The structure of this story is very nice. Yes, stories, stories, stories, stories. S-t-o-r-i-e-s.
And what do we say about all this obsession with innocence? Salinger would be a companion to young women, real young women, for years, and then, one fateful night, he would sleep with them and the friendship would end. After that, after he fucked them, they were no longer the innocent ones running through the rye to be caught before they went over the cliff. They had gone over, and he had been the one to push them.

And so their dance would continue forever. Lindsay, high on drugs and the fame-crusted milieu of depreciated stardom in a Norman Rockwell painting of a gingham-dressed childhood that never was. James, forever searching for the deeper meaning. The deeper Hollywood:

Every night Lindsay looked for me. My Russian friend, Drew, was always around like a wraith. He, like the blond painting, was my doppelgänger, writing scripts about rape and murder. A Hollywood Dostoyevsky, he had gambled his money away. We played a ton of ping-pong. My room was on the second level, the exterior walls hugged by vines. Every night Lindsay looked for me, and I hid. Out the window was Hollywood.

He had become “the immortal sex.” Those are actual words used by James Franco. “The immortal sex.” You couldn’t make this shit up if you bonged 27 of your own farts. Believe me, I tried.

Fin.

“Bungalow 89″ by James Franco – Vice.com

Photos: Terry Richardson’s Diary

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  1. If you don’t have the time or inclination to read Franco’s story, here’s the Reader’s Digest version: “I DON’T HAVE HERPES! I DON’T HAVE HERPES! I DON’T HAVE HERPES!”

  2. Cock Dr

    Obviously he fucked her one way or another.

  3. “…but I had slid the dead bolt and that thing—I don’t know what you call it; it’s like a chain but made of two bars—that kept the door from opening.”

    Now that’s the makings of classic literature right there.

    • cheesecake

      As I continued to read short stories by Salinger, there was a knock, I decided to turn the round metal thing on the door. “James open the door”. I knew this voice too well, it has haunted me for over three years. It was her, the Hollywood siren, living goddess, consumer of all things men desired to be. Lets call her, Angelina Jolie, she pushed the door open and I looked at her. She began to speak about her relationship problems with a cool guy, let’s call him Brad, and how lonely she was. I let her touch me. But not before leading her in book reading, Catcher in the Rye. She would love that, I could see it in her eyes….

      (Proof that anyone can write like James Franco)

  4. Because he is so snarky, I want to like James Franco, but I find it hard because he is such a pretentious douchebag. He’s a high-functioning, fairly comedic douchebag, but a douchebag nonetheless.

    • Cher X

      Totally. Writing that someone described him as a “bookworm” doesn’t help. Especially since he doesn’t take his classes to actually TAKE them.

  5. “In the case of your reckless history behind the wheel, Ms. Lohan, how do you plead?”
    “I’m innocent! I wrote a poem that proves I was in the passenger seat, donating to charity the whole time!”

  6. I’m imagining a giant J shaped glass tube for bonging your own farts.

  7. Lindsay Lohan Nipple Cleavage Terry Richardson
    brian
    Commented on this photo:

    She’s a junkie, she’s a thief, she’s a complete trainwreck of an actress … but damn, she has some nice tits.

  8. His entire story is very reminiscent of a certain….a certain…..oh wait, this makes me think of James Franco sleeping during a college lecture. Because it’s boring. Also, it makes no sense.

  9. Funny how I thought Fish was making all these quotes up until I clicked that link at the end.

  10. “In his ongoing war to make sure everyone knows he didn’t bang Lindsay Lohan…”
    HIs story is open to interpretation. I choose to interpret it as he banged her, and now wants nothing more to do with her because that’s what Salinger would do (#WWSD).

  11. I half expected it to start, “It was a dark and stormy night…”

  12. cheesecake

    This is the synopsis of this fiction by Franco!! He goes on to say he is a vampire, he was pissed at the academy cause he couldnt be Cher. And he basically told Lindsay to close her legs, gave her some hot chocolate and a blanket and sent her on her way… which led to her demise.
    (And yet did not waist a g-damn second of his life asking a 17 year old fan if he could hook up with her.)
    Leo is the center of the pussy posse, and he jabs Lukas Haas a bit.
    He knows people that knew River Phoenix, he’s friends with Gus Van Sandt and He stares of Gucci posters of himself.

    The End

  13. Methinks the douchebag doth protest too much.

  14. malaka

    in all fairness… nobody here knows who the fuck i am..
    if i out of nowhere declared that i have never fucked lindsay lohan,
    would any of you believe me??

  15. Rob

    I thought I read that James Franco claimed that Lindsay called him Jake Gyllenhaal. His story has changed, which makes me wonder if he’s lying.

  16. Mel Gibson's Shrink

    I get it. I wouldn’t touch her with a 10ft pole either. Disgusting.

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