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It's Pretty Universal

More gay fiction stuff. I might be doing something, but I'm not sure yet. Read if you'd like.




She heard a bump, some rustling, maybe some munching, a stray giggle. Nothing too strange, but definitely something odd and out of the ordinary.


"Daddy?" She said cautiously as she slowly opened the door and was instantly horrified by the site that lay in front of her.

"Oh my God, Daddy!" She said to her father whose legs were unceremoniously flung into the air. "Poppa, oh my God stop!" She howled in disbelief as her dad and her poppa tried to disentangle themselves from one another. Realizing their little girl was now a young woman and should have known better than to walk into their bedroom unannounced (especially since the threat of monsters and the boogie man lay years behind her) they gave up and looked at Sasha laughing. She shook her head in disgust,

"You two still have sex?!" Her poppa shrugged and smiled,

"Of course we do sweetheart, how do you think you got here?" Gerard laughed heartily at James' joke and the two men started kissing again as Sasha left the room totally skeeved out.

Sasha always thought she was unique because her parents were always heavy on the PDA and very much in love. But after this day; after all of these years she finally got what her friends were talking about after they accidentally saw their parents in a compromising situation.

Adults are gross, and unbelievably corny.
I woke up last night with this on my mind and haven't had time to write it down until now. It's gay, it's fiction, it's gay fiction. And kind of incestuous which is new for me and definitely not going to be a habit, but again it's more about forbidden love. Like, where's the line? Between experimenting and falling in love? Is it real or is it extremely antisocial? I always wonder about what goes on between cousins in love and why do they feel that way and what do they do about it? I don't know, I'm just working on creating an atmosphere, it's been so long since I've written anything fiction.

Anyhow, you've been warned. You don't like it, skip it. ;)




Forever

"Of course you're straight. You're straight." Dre shrugged airing a faux nonchalance into a room already filled from wall to wall with tension. D'Angelo Jr. sat on a metal chair in the corner, leaning his shoulder hard into the wall.

"We could be together," Dre got quiet suddenly, "if we really wanted to." He'd been watching D'Angelo avoid his attentive gaze, but suddenly could not stand to. He turned his head away looked into the corner opposite of D'Angelo, and continued.

"No one would have to know, you know? We could move somewhere far away where no one would find us. Just hide out and be in love. But you want a woman, right?" D'Angelo knew that Dre was looking away, but refused to look up. He just sat there looking at his right ring finger. Dre had given him a ring inscribed in short with the speech he was giving right now.

"It would all be easier D'. It would make this so much easier if you'd just admit it." D' fingered the ring whose fit was so seasoned to his finger that the inscription seemed branded into his flesh: "Love is forever. Ours." He opened his eyes looking at the cold brown floor beneath him. He silently asked a question, and Deondre answered.

"Admit that you don't love me as much as you say you do." Deondre felt D' look quickly at him and couldn't stop the tears from springing to his eyes. He felt D's eyes scan him up and down as his own eyes closed causing the welled up tears to burst like a dam.

"Why did you say that?" Deondre was rocked by D's voice, just realizing he hadn't heard it until now. It was deep and sorrowful. "Why would you say that to me?" And Deondre had a decision to make here. And it was a very important one. Being a bitch had worked well for Deondre who was the epitome of the spoiled rich kid. He was abrasive and mean and rude and beautiful and funny and wickedly smart and completely in control of every situation except this one. Because he knew he was helpless when it came to the love of D'Angelo Jr, and because he knew this, he did the only thing that would work. He told the truth.

"I said it because I'm hurt. And tired. And so in love with you I can barely breath. I said it because it's the only thing that might cause this to make some fucking sense." There was a long pause that felt like hours between the two, then: "We're only cousins."

D'Angelo sighed a heavy side and stood up making his way to Deondre whose tears only became more profuse through his misery, "Only half-cousins even. Like," He sobbed through his words, knowing even as he spit them out they were impossible. "We're barely relate- shit. What the fuck are we- shit!" This is when D'Angelo embraced him, but not fully. It wasn't awkward, but it was very much like the pieces of a 50 or 100 piece puzzle. They fit just enough to give a good clue of what the picture was. Deondre stood, his head facing away from D'Angelo; the left arm wrapped around his waist, and the right hand cupped and extended to his left. D'Angelo grabbed his right elbow with his left hand, and placed his right hand around Deondre's waist. They formed a 'T' and used this odd placement to lean on each other. D'Angelo gently spoke into Deondre's neck.

"We're recognized wherever we go, you know that. Our family is too big baby, everyone knows who we are. My sister and I have this connection where she just knows. My mother. I'd lose that if-" He squeezed his eyes tightly, determined. "We'd have to lie to our families for the rest of our lives. It's too much Dre, it's too much baby." As Deondre cried, his tears washed away any of the path to the truth he'd built up. A life of extremes caused Dre to never recognize the gray areas of life. There was no being happy now, there was no being happy for a very long time. There was only forever or nothing, and he refused to settle for nothing. Fortunately, so did D'Angelo.

He'd pulled him into a hug by now. And as they felt the energy flow between them they knew it would be alright.

"I'm going to marry a woman, yes. And you're going to marry a woman to give you children, and then divorce her cause you're fucked up. Then you'll meet some guy who will never satisfy you, but that you can stand because you know he'll make me jealous as hell. And who will understand why I'll always win in the contest of your love. My woman and I will be in love and she will love my family and they'll love her back. You'll love her, and she'll love you. And with all of this new found love in they air they won't suspect that ours never died." D'Angelo placed his lips on Dre's forehead, lightly kissing his caramel brown skin. He raised Dre's head an wiped the tears away with the care of a mother.

"Just stick to the plan baby, and we'll be happy. I promise you, we'll be happy."

It's Fading...

(It's this kind of month, and that's okay, it's February)

Look at the clemson sun setting against the steadying purple sky

It's Fading

Look at the cumulus clouds gathering, huddling as the cool of the night expands

It's Fading

Look at the stars gently saying hello against an ocean in the sky of colors and whispering winds

It's Fading.

Enjoy it children, for soon
It will be gone.


Look at the children laughing
It's fading.
Look at the grandmother napping
It's fading.
Look at the father, smelling his child's head
It's fading.

And soon, it will be gone.

Look at the hope of a better tomorrow
It's fading
Look at the joy that comes from sorrow
It's fading
Look at the mother who wipes her child's tears away
It's fading, and soon it will be gone.

Look at the counselor defining dreams
It's fading
Look at the employer providing means
It's fading
Look at the children themselves making their children's beds.
It's fading. Soon it will be gone.

Look at our freedom
It's fading
Look at our deliverance
It's fading
Stop looking for tomorrow when you're living in today
Today is fading
It's fading, children
And soon, even tomorrow, will be gone.





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"A brand new day!"

Look at me

Look



♥ at ♥



ME



I am Changing

Trying every way I can...



I came upon an epiphany, well actually it came upon me as I lay slumbering in my comfortable state of unawareness, or is it unawareitude, does it matter, who cares? The point of the matter - the fact of the situation being that my present state of supposed bliss or appropriate malaise (for sometimes malaise is appropriate is what we must tell ourselves) was one that I was in and whilst in this holding pattern of none productivity an epiphany came upon me and it said this
:

What?



I know, right? As if I was the one who called it, and not it that called me!

oh.

"I am changing
I'll be better than I am
I'm trying to find a way to understand"



So I asked my epiphany, "What do you mean, what? For you are the one who called me!" (You see I was not then where I am now so I didn't realize what was going to be) And my Epiphany looked at me and said loudly
,


What?



And I know I said "said" instead of "asked" but there's a difference of terms that I need you to realize that I need to realize myself that maybe I'm just making up because I don't understand the impact this question-like statement of an inquisitive nature is going to have on my current state of... my current state of... my current state of
,


What?



oh.

"But I need you, I need you
I need a hand

I am changing
Seeing everything so clear
I am changing
I'm gonna start right now, right here
I'm hoping to work it out
And I know that I can
But I need you, I need a hand"



I think that's what happens after the flood; you swim, or you drown, or you float, but somehow I've managed to do all three at once.



"All of my life I've been a fool
Who said I could do it all alone
How many good friends have I already lost?
How many dark nights have I known?
"


TEN THOUSAND YEARS can give you such a crick in the neck,
... but ten years can break your heart.


Walking down that wrong road
There was nothing I could find
All those years of darkness
Could make a person blind


But now I can see,"

My eyes are opened and adjusting to the light at the end of the tunnel that I could have sworn I saw before but perhaps it was just the reflection of my past? A past filled with promise for tomorrow but tomorrow is today and I never learned how to skate backwards though I've been doing it perfectly for years.



"I am changing
Trying every way I can
I am changing
I'll be better than I am
But I need a friend
To help me start all over again
That would be just fine
I know it's gonna work out this time
'Cause this time I am
This time I am"



This time I would certainly like to.


"I am changing
I'll get my life together now
I am changing
Yes I know how"


This time I would certainly like to know how.


"I'm gonna start again"


This time I would certainly start.... again.


"I'm gonna leave my past behind"

This time I will leave my past behind.

"I'll change my life"

I'll change my life

"I'll make a vow"


Oh God.

and

"nothing's gonna stop me now"


***This plea for change, this emo production, this self motivation brought to you by the final collaboration of the heart, mind, and soul (and fingers) of Ms. Sticky A Keys (a work in progress)***


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Don't believe the hype!!

Welcome to the very first edition of Stixbusters!  The posts dedicated to clarifying the myths that plague teh intarnetz.  Think, snopes.com without the credibility.

Miss Susie: the Real Story

For far too long the story of Miss Susie has been passed off as a simple ADD laden tune used to entertain children with sick, morbid senses of humor.  It was a song not taught in schools, but instead behind the schools on the playgrounds from the mouths of kids in the older grades.  To learn it was to be accepted into a fold that defined you as rambunctious, and dare I say, rebellious.   

Or so we assumed.  In actuality the song was created as a cautionary tale.  It you look deeper into the lyrics, you'll find that it is not just a silly tune relying on humor by homophone, but instead a message being passed down warning you of the travails experience by living a secular life.

Let's examine, shall we? 

Miss Susie had a steamboat
The steamboat had a bell 

"Miss Susie" is code for a prostitute.  So named from a combination of Suzanne "Gold Fingers" K'nicke, the famed New Orleans Madame, and fandom's now infamous Mary Sue; Miss Susie is the prostitute with the heart of gold and thighs of steal.  Unfortunately we will learn that Miss Suzie also had something of a problem, cleverly codenamed "steamboat".  Steamboat is a stand in for Michael Steamboatmann, famed Chicago gangster and bootlegger.  He and Suzanne K'nicke formed a torrid relationship after meeting one fateful day at the popular Ribfest in Kansas City (then known as Kansaswoodland).   

She saw him shoving meat into his mouth and offered him a sip from her flask in order to aid in his digestion.  He accepted and when asked where the flask was, Ms. K'nicke made him search for it thus beginning the couple that fuels today's legend.  They paraded through the country, spending, killing, and causing general mayhem when they stopped in the great city of Denver, Colorado and were introduced to a different kind of snow.  Steamboatmann formed a wicked addiction codenamed "the bell" due to his propensity to ring a small service bell whenever he wanted to get high.   

Suzanne loved Michael very much but could not deal with his growing self abuse.  She left him and this is chronicled in the next section of our song.  

Miss Susie went to heaven
The steamboat went to
Hello operator
Give me number nine

Heaven was a discreet rehab center that would lay later be used as foundations for the Betty Ford Center.  So subtle was its advertising that many people just assumed it was a retirement village.  Several stars of the day would sign up for "volunteer" duties and would emerge to tell the tale of their philanthropic doings.  Suzanne spent time in Heaven and emerged a cleaner, more sober headed woman.  Michael Steamboatmann went on a rampage after learning of Suzanne's disappearance and moved to Detroit.  On the recommendation of a compeer, he went to a shady unnamed establishment to enlist the services of a man simply called "The Operator".  The operated acted as a liaison between local hitmen and the patrons desiring their services.  Number 9 was an ex-Marine who had been dishonorably discharged for striking up deals with the Germans during the Great War.  He was hated, sneaky, and shiftless, but he was good at his job and cheap.  He killed for fun, the money was only used to supply him with more warfare apparatus.

And if you disconnect me
I'll chop off your (behind)

Number 9 was notorious for switching sides in the middle of a hit and Mr. Steamboatmann warns him above that if he is double crossed, Number 9 will pay.

Behind the refrigerator
There sat a piece of glass
Miss Susie sat upon it
And cut her big fat

The first attempts at Suzanne's life came shortly after Number 9 was hired.  Suzanne found solace by going to The Ice Box, a local lounge lovingly re-nicknamed The Refrigerator.  Sometimes the atmosphere would become far too stuffy causing her to go out back and have a smoke, or conversations with God.  What were these conversations about, you ask?  Well Ms. K'nicke was not fat at all, but instead... with child!  She had a mirror and razor blade in her hand and a baggie in her purse.  She wrestled with the temptation in her hand, and the future in her belly, and looked to the heavens for guidance.  Number 9 came up behind her frightening her and causing her to drop the mirror shattering it into several pieces.  Number 9 apologized to Suzanne and chatted our girl up building an unusual rapport.  He knew his job was to attack her, and that he had to carry out the job, but for a reason still unknown he decided to delay the moment for just a moment. 

It was a good call because into their conversations Suzanne began to have tremendous pains and asked Number 9 to carry her to the hospital.  While at the hospital Number 9 felt something he'd never felt before, and that something was compassion.

Ask me no more questions
Tell me no more lies
The boys are in the bathroom
Zipping up their (flies?)

Number 9 demanded that Suzanne be straight with him and tell her if the father of the baby was indeed the man who was trying to kill her.  Suzanne confirmed and from then on Number 9 resolved to always protect and honor Suzanne, and the baby inside of her.

Flies are in the city,
The bees are in the park
Miss Susie and her boyfriend
Are kissing in the
D-A-R-K D-A-R-K

Soon a love affair was born to last the ages.  One that was simple and uncomplicated and very real.  They lived anonymously for many years raising little G Todd Fitzgerladnine to become a man of great integrity and character.  You would think this story would have a happy ending, but you're forgetting of the perseverance of Mr. Steamboatmann.  He found out the new identities of his ex-lover and the killer who betrayed him, and went to serve the justice he felt they richly deserved.

Dark just like the ocean

They found Suzanne's body a week later floating in the Gulf port that fed from the Atlantic. 

Dark just like the sea

They found Number 9's body in the Tuscaloosa sea that fed from the Mississippi.

Dark just like the underwear
That smells like stinky feet.

The words of this last verse change depending on the region or maturity level of the song's criers.  Legend says that the child survived and exacted revenge for his mother's death but exactly how has been debated for the past century.  Some believe, as stated above, that the child planted pox-filled pantaloons in Steamboatmann's boudoir causing his biological father to break out in a deadly case of syphilis.  Some say his father was just a whore and came upon this fate naturally. 

What we do know is that he engineered this song to serve as warning for those out there who may be in the clutches of a bad relationship.  Sometimes love works out, but in order to make it work and stay alive, you must make choices based on the maintenance of your general well being.  So when you hear your children giggling in the corner, singing this supposedly innocent song, tell them.  Tell them the truth, and the story of a woman who tried to make it, but couldn't.  Tell them the story of a child who forever lost his mother and the man who knew as father because of a love that became tainted and unrequited.  Tell them dear readers, and make sure they tell others.  The story of Miss Susie is one that should not be forgotten, and now because of the inventiveness of a heart-broken little boy, and some clarifications by yours truly, it never will.

Source: MBA  

***This post brought to you from the center of Sticky's bottom; the makers of ACTIVE-ON, arthritis pain? ACTIVE-ON, joint swelling? ACTIVE-ON; and once again, by the reading of blog viewers... like you***

 


 

On the Next Stixbusters:  

Miss Mary Mack, or Miss Mary SMACK!?  You decide!

and

Say, Say oh playmate?  or Say, Say oh Enemy?  Which side are YOU on!





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Blogging for Books entry

This is my Blogging for Books entry for The Zero Boss!  Many thanks to Charming Driver for the heads up.  Enjoy!


Lazy Sunday


“NICK, STOP! MOM, TELL HIM TO STOP!” My niece came running upstairs from the den yelling across the house for her mother.

“Your mom went to the store, what's the problem?” I asked while flipping through channels on tv.

“You're awake? I thought you were taking a nap?” I've learned that with three kids all within 4 years of each other I should never expect sleep at my sister in law's house.

“What, and miss out on all the yelling and screaming and fun?  Never!  Now what's going on?” What was going on was my youngest nephew, Nicholas, deciding to entertain himself by taking an entire bottle of Febreeze and spraying everyone within a five foot radius. He came running up the stairs and looked at me mischievously.

“You better not!” I warned as I walked towards him to confiscate the spray. He hesitated for a moment and then tried to run away.  He made it all of two steps before tripping and not only dropping the bottle, but somehow also spilling its entire contents onto the carpet. The entire house began to smell and we could do nothing but stand outside and wait for it to air out.

"I think it smells good." Daggers of love shot from our eyes towards the baby of the family as he grinned sheepishly and tried not to laugh,

"What?  It does!"  I sent Nick away to harass some of his friends up the block and Alycia went next door to play with the puppy she was trying to con her mother into buying. This left Erik and me.

“So are you going to go and find some friends to hang out with?” I asked him as we lounged in the yard.

“I could I guess, but then what are you going to do?” I shrugged,

“I'm sure I'll find something.  You don't need to worry about that, though thank you for thinking of your Auntie.” He pulled his shirt over his nose and ventured back inside to get something from his room, when he came out he was holding a remote controlled airplane his mother bought him from the discount bin at Target.

“Um, I guess I could call my friends, but I don't really feel like waiting for them.  You wanna help me fly this?”  I smiled, satisfied to be wasting the rest of the day with Erik and even tried to sweeten the deal a bit,

“Sure! In fact, let's go to the park.” Erik's eyes lit up at the suggestion so we boarded up the car, left a note and headed the full 10 blocks to the park. Normally we would have just walked, but Erik thinks my car is cool and to get to the park you have to navigate this winding road that puts even the famed Lombard St. to shame.  It's completely nonsensical and kind of dangerous in the winter, but it was summer and that meant taking the curves as fast as we could manage.  I like to think that I am not a bad role model and instead I am encouraging the kids to be adventurous.

We stopped in this wide open field and prepared the plane for it's maiden flight. It was some crappy little do it yourself thing that was laden with lightweight foam, scotch tape, and other general ugliness. Erik flipped the switch and launched the plane causing it to crash almost instantly. After a few more tries I saw him begin to get frustrated and massaged his shoulders a bit, readying him for whatever inner battle he was getting ready to conquer.

“I think that's a record for fastest flight ever.” He stuck his tongue out at me playfully, but turned back all the more serious. During the crash one of the wires powering the plane unlatched and he became very concerned with fixing it. He concentrated on it in that boy way; very serious, very focused, causing the plane to no longer be a plane, but an extension of his pride.  I tried to think of a way to release him from this hold, to have him realize that he'll have the rest of his life to worry over such matters, but now was the time for fun.

“Don't worry about it Erik, it's big enough to just fly without the batteries, and God knows it's windy enough.” I said as I struggled to find something to tie my hair back with. The wind was phenomenal, cooling, but not cold, but also blustery and completely unpredictable. The field we were in had a creek that lined it at the bottom of a steep hill. So far the wind was in our favor, but if it changed directions, I feared for the future of our little apparatus.

“Besides, it's probably a good thing that the plane not get too high, it would probably be gone forever.” But Erik would not be deterred,

“No! We have to make it work right. We just need a new system.”  I remembered thinking how smart of him that was, though I could care less about the plane, it was nice to see him sticking to his task and not giving up.

“Well. what kind of system do you think would work?” As he thought you could see the gears turning in his pre-adolescent mind, trying to configure scenarios based only on what he knew up to that point in his life.

“We should do it together! Like, you throw and I'll steer, or you steer and I'll throw.”

“Or we can alternate.”

“Yeah! That way once you throw the plane you wouldn't have to just go back to trying to make it fly, you would already be.. um..”

“Prepared?”

“Yeah.” So we put his plan into action. One of us would throw the plane while the other laughably tried to steer it using the remote. While this resulted in many things (none of which included actual flight), it was our conversation that sent me soaring.

"I love how your walking path over there just ends." I said as I tried to find a breeze to float the plane on. It was really lovely outside. It was mid-afternoon so the sun was bright and high and the clouds lush and fluffy. Even the grass was delightful and soothing beneath our bare feet. This park was less a modern day contraption of swing sets and foam rubber and plastic slides, and more of a throwback to the days of wide open green spaces where the only obstacles blocking the natural beauty were the occasional water fountains.

The walkway I referred to was a little bike path that circled the edge of the field. It didn't loop around and connect, it simply ended giving way to a patch of trees and shrubbery. This interested me because it wasn't as though they were fixing the path and would return later, but instead this was brand new, and the extent of the construction. I'm always mystified by the missing logic behind these decisions. The lack of foresight and planning had to be evident during the development stages, and yet here it was, in front of us and palpable.

I released the plane while Erik concentrated on making sure it stayed up. It didn't and while we walked to go pick it up from its very artful nose dive, my nephew acknowledged my conversation starter,

"Wouldn't it be weird? If someone was walking? And they got there? And just got stuck?" When my nephew gets analytical (as eleven year olds are wont to do) he begins to speak only in questions,

"Like, they were just riding their bikes one day? And got to the end? And didn't know where to go?" I nodded, it was very poetic and I wondered if these were the things Shel Silverstein also contemplated.

"Yeah, that would be weird." I said as I pondered the severity of this specific situation. Is it possible to be stuck when there's no one to tell you where to go? I was positive it was, I'd seen it many times., but while I didn't know if my nephew knew that, I did know I never wanted him to find out.

"But I think it would be okay. They would figure out a way, or they would turn around, right?" He looked at the sad little plane on the ground and nodded slowly,

“I hope so." He picked up the plane, frowned, and showed me its flaw,

"It's the nose! Every time it hits the ground, the nose goes up and makes it so it doesn't fly straight. Nick always puts tape on it which makes it heavier so it won't fly.” I smiled slightly at the mental eyeroll Erik gave his brother and knew that somewhere Nick felt it.

“Why would you do that? If you know that it won't fly if you weigh it down? Why would you weigh it down?" I shrugged and adjusted the tape to make it functional, and a little less bulky.

"I don't know, why would you make a path that just ends? Or better yet, why would you walk it?" I became the official thrower and released the plane again. This time it caught a very generous gust causing it to weave and bobble haphazardly with the breeze. My nephew tried valiantly to maneuver the plane into some sort of flight pattern which somehow turned into "accidentally" aiming the plane towards his aunt Stacey. He laughed and laughed as I screamed and ducked out of the way. It was very North by Northwest.

"You're a good thrower." He said to me as we successfully completed three more crashes.

"Thanks buddy, you're a good pilot when you're not trying to mow me down."

"It was an accident!" I teased and strangled him a bit before wrapping my arms around his as we walked back to the car.

"Stacey look!" Erik pointed and I looked to see a man on a bicycle riding quickly towards the end of the path.

"Oh wow, I wonder what's going to happen!" I exclaimed. Erik smiled and his eyes grew to twice their size,

"I don't know, should we warn him?!" We contemplated this as the man got closer to the end and grabbed each other's hands waiting for this poor cyclist to reach his fate. He pedaled faster and faster gaining momentum and suddenly, at the very end of the path... he turned. He began biking on the grass until he got to the other side of the field and pedaled off into the proverbial sunset.

My nephew dropped my hand and looked up at me expectantly, I shrugged and shook my head,

"Huh. Well I guess that's one way to get past it!" He looked at at me, and I at him and we both began to giggle uncontrollably. There was nothing really more to say, so we just laughed instead of talking and loaded up to make our way back home.  It felt like only a few fleeting moments, but I realized we'd been there for hours as I watched the sun begin to set in the summer sky.  Though not as big as his wedding will be, nor his graduation; these little instances, these events that can only be correctly defined as passages of time, are how we will remember each other in our hearts.  And I like that.  I like knowing that someday when Erik is out flying planes with his son, or taking some lazy Sunday off to go to the park, that he'll remember the time he and his Aunt Stacey found out what really happens when the sidewalk ends. 

Still smiling, Erik watched the path disappear as we drove away.

"I'm glad he made it," He said. He looked at me and I nodded and watched as his eyes sparkled in the coming moonlight.

"Yeah, me too."
















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Gaiety Sniplets: Tracks Nine & Ten


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Track Nine:

And AgainCollapse )








Track Ten:

And Again.. repriseCollapse )





Interlude: It's Okay

It"s OkayCollapse )

AHHHHHH!!!!

I HAVE TO WRITE 11,744 WORDS TODAY!!

I MUST WIN!

CHEER ME ON!!!!

AHHHHHH!!




I realize the novel will be no where near completed, but I want this 50,000! And then December will be my NaDecWriSomeMo month!

YAY!




Gaiety Sniplet
Disc One:Track Eight

Paradox

sk_nanowrimo

The entire week was fabulous. Noah came into town three days after my lunch with D'Angelo and this morning was exactly five days from that. Let me take you through the week,

Day 1: Met Noah at the airport making sure that I was the only one to pick him up. Fucked him in a supply closet that a friend gave me access to. Stole some pilot's wings as a memento while briefly considering the state of airline travel safety. Went and got wasted at airport bar. Ate lots of chicken wings. Met some unnamable star and flirted heavily. Noah may get to be on Leno. Got sucked off for my efforts in taxi ride back to the apartment. Ate dinner with Chantal and Jerrod. Got fucked on balcony. Wrote three chapters while listening to Noah's new songs and praising him endlessly. Noah was jet lagged from the plane and I was jet lagged from the airport so we retired early.

Day 2-3: Got woken up with a hand stroking my cock. Returned the favor. Shower. Breakfast was divine. Noah drove us to the country where we spent the next two days naked and frolicking like gazelles. Howled at the moon. Got caught twice by men in Monty outfits and on horses. Very strange since we were not in Canada. Invited men to dinner. Got invited to cock fight, but declined despite possibility of mistaken entendre. Saw wildlife including but not limited to deer, wolves, butterflies, and an outward bound retreat consisting of rehabilitated former prisoners who invited us to participate in their trust falls. Declined, but wished them the best and promised to write. Hoped they realized to write implied "about them" and not "to them".

Day 4: Returned to civilization. Left again promptly. Went to the local Six Flags and rode and ate. Also went on every ride and stuffed ourselves on caramel apples, cotton candy, and funnel cakes. Threw up after the Spinning Silo. Snuggled with Noah and took a nap in the ball pit to settle myself. Was woken up by possessive security guards and told we exceeded the weight requirement for their ball pit. Had a nice little giggle. Stayed at a local motel, paid cash, and trashed the place. Made pact to never tell Chantal since she used to work in hospitality and would be pissed. Secretly plan to tell Chantal next time that we're drunk. Had breakfast the next morning at a diner and skipped the bill by getting kicked out due to unseemly behavior.

Today was day five after we returned to the apartment to rest. We were lying leisurely in bed when I broke the news. I'm an opportunist with little to no class, in case you hadn't noticed.



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Gaiety Sniplet: D1:T7

For sk_nanowrimo

Disc One:Track Seven
Amusement for our Humility encore

"D’Angelo-"

"Hush and let me finish. So I said,

‘I'm interested in many gay things Heath. You know who my girlfriend is.’ And you said,

‘Yes, your girlfriend. How's that sex going? Oh wait, she’s not giving you any!’" I was a gigantic bitch, I’d forgotten how much.

"Yeah, that was out of line wasn’t it?" I said as I smiled apologetically and crossed my arms,

"But then you told me that het sex –or the lack of it that you were having- was immaterial to me because I didn’t really care. You told me it was not a part of what I want. Then I asked if my gay sex was interesting to you because it was a part of-"

"It was a part of my background."

"And you cut me off in that exact spot, with that exact phrase. You told me that your dad was gay, and that’s when I blew up."

"I did, and it almost was. You thought I meant LeAndrew because I lived with him for all that time, and you said it didn’t count because it wasn’t my entire childhood-"

"And that with that logic, straight was as much a part of my history as gay was with you."

"And when I said it was my real dad I was referring to, that's when you blew up." I got entirely pissed off. I sat straight up and rocked the boat a little. I’ve told you that D’Angelo was very guarded about the information he released about himself, but he had no qualms about the amount he received. I believed in an exchange method and if I confide in you, you better be damned willing to spill some of your own shit.

"You yelled at me Heath."

"You’re damn right I yelled at you." I fucking cussed his ass out; motherfucker this, bitch ass that. I couldn’t stand this seeping shit that he does. He gives a little here, and a little there and suddenly out of nowhere his dad is a damned fag.



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Gaiety Sniplet: Track Six

For sk_nanowrimo

"4... 5... 6... 7-"

"Heath, stop that, you'll make yourself nervous." I quieted down quickly and looked around to make sure that no one else heard my thoughts slip out.

"The elevator will come when it's time baby, don't worry." D'Angelo looked at me with a supposed air of nonchalance, but we both knew that something else was there. The other patrons either became transfixed by our volley, or ignored us completely while sorting out the day's business on their cell phones and PDA's.

"It's just that we're on the first floor, and the elevator was on the fourth floor..."

"Yes?"

"And when I hit the button, to bring the elevator down..."He grinned at me slyly,

"Yes?"

"It fucking went up. Why are you acting like you weren't here, or like, this is the thing that didn't just happen?"

"Why are you treating me as if I wasn't here my dear, or better yet, like I fucking care?" Then he smiled at me sweetly and lightly caressed my face, a man behind us coughed and diverted his attention to his paper. Afterward D'Angelo turned back to the display and watched the elevator come down again as if summonsed,

"See Heath? Here it comes." He looked at me, counting in perfect time,

"9... 8... 7..." And this is what life was like with D'Angelo. Every single fucking day.


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