If Gilmore Girls Was Rebooted by HBO

The new theme song

is an acapella

rendition of 

Roddy Rich’s 

“The Box” sung by

what sounds like

a long-dead

Aryan centerfold.

Lorelai rolls 

her Jeep in 

glacial paradiso snowglobe

sunscape—kaleidoscopic 

Sunkist blast from floor to god—

vodka dusk her mouth,

Christopher and Max both

splattered 

in her crevices.

Jess plunges the 

spike down into

a sliver of skin,

the sky’s silver resting like

purple mountain majesty

on shoulders 

of granite

swollen thick with gnarled 

tangled valleys

and he hates books

and he Tweets

heavy business.

Richard Gilmore made

his money

from child labor

and wears a monocle 

and Emily 

is nevermore 

after an uprising 

of all her fired hired help

leaves her hung crooked

from a chandelier in the room

where they had drinks

at Friday Night Dinners.

Rory,

yes, Rory,

uses the library

as a place to 

seek out the 

White Pearl Pills

and their dust on 

old fathers’ 

hard stubble—

her OnlyFans is a 

secret until

Luke

subscribes.

The town troubadour

only does

Lil Peep’s early stuff.

Town meetings are held

in a sweaty bar

with sawdust hovering

and resting in puddles

and Taylor

is always strapped

and says “cunt” a lot.

Lane Kim

drinks her pregnancy

to smithereens

and leaves the Hills Have Eyes remnants

of her fleshwomb

with Lorelai while she

saws her mother’s head off

with a rusty crucifix

while listening

to Amon Amarth

or Gojira

or Madonna.

Paris

doom-scrolls

too hard on Ambien

and the air grows too stale

with sterility

and a syrup-thick

night wander

and she’ll arrive

in Stars Hollow in the cold

with

sweat on her mouth and

absolute absence in the pale wet of her

glowing sockets.

Luke swings from 

the ceiling in his hovel

while the diner burns under him

when he reads about Lorelai’s 

death and 

her paternity test(s)

on Miss Patty’s Facebook page.

Rory, 

who is played by

the girl with the breasts

from Euphoria, of course,

burns the rich

(and by the rich, I mean her grandparents)

and their mansion,

broadcasting it all 

for her fans

for money

while Phoebe Bridgers is 

loud and sleek 

in the background

howling about a 

swell of heartbreak.

Logan Huntzberger

does not make it

past the first episode

because he

was always a mistake

and would be no better

under a 

TV-MA rating.

The end credits 

also feature

the same tearful tribute

to Roddy Rich

as the beginning,

as well as

footage of 

Alexis Bledel-Rory

and Sydney Sweeney-Rory

side-by-side

reading copies of 

Girl, Interrupted

and then laughing

because it’s so silly to imagine

perfect girls

reading about

imperfect things.



R. Jones is a writer who lives in the northeast. Read more of his work in The Daily Drunk Mag now and in The Expat Literary Journal and Misery Tourism this fall. Heckle him on Twitter at @jonestown00. 

Categories: Poetry, TV

Daily Drunk

Shawn Berman runs The Daily Drunk. You can follow him on Twitter @Sbb_writer.

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