Gay Gun and a Limited Shelf Life
Less for more is hammered in as the modern day anthem for the average consumer. Where what you paid three years ago for a particular product or service now costs twice as much and you get a whole lot less of it. Products have a built in expiry date. That blender you bought should last 3 years with moderate use. Where as the blender your mother bought has lasted 30 years and will probably last forever. Products that last are rare. Manufacturers cared little for the environmental fallout from this sort of greed and like your mother's blender will never change. Just the way it is. Everyone accepts it. Not much point in thinking about it.
Less for more and more or less he felt less than more. Robert was an average guy standing 5ft 10in weighed in at 160lbs and was Gay. His average looks took him to average places. He worked as a Housewares Manager at a prominent department store, lived in a one bedroom apartment and drove a Honda Civic. On holidays he did average activities. He spent Christmas with his family, Easter with his family and once a year he would go to Cuba with his friends Matt and James, who were also average. They didn't talk much. Not much to say. Just the usual average talk that everyone has everyday. He spent his weekends with Matt and James. On Saturday night they would go to the Gay Village ate dinner at Zelda's and went to one of the local dance clubs. They looked at all the buff boys and said nothing. All were single and only James had a steady boyfriend that lasted for 6 weeks about 2 years before. Neither Robert, Matt or James had been with anyone sexually for almost one year. While on their previous vacation in Cuba they got drunk with some locals who wanted money and alcohol. In return the Latinos gave the boys blow jobs and only James had anal sex. James was so afraid that he contracted AIDS from this encounter that he openly wept when his doctor told him that his test results for HIV were Negative.
These three reflected perfectly the culture which had made them. The staunch politically correct and rule oriented environment known as Toronto Canada. A city where every act of expression seems to be against the law. To reach out and touch someone is forbidden. So they touched no one and no one touched them. No point in thinking about it, so they didn't.
At 32 Robert followed the weekend routine without question. After all it was the things to do. Robert had always found safety in routine. Anything unpredictable was never considered and always avoided. He supposed that Matt and James were the same.
As another Saturday night arrived the three had joined one another on the patio of Zelda's. It was a beautiful warm evening. The village was in full swing. Chatting boys in tank tops, shorts and sandals were everywhere. Robert, Matt, and James felt a certain excitement. They had just ordered dinner and were enjoying a few drinks. Summer drinks full of mixed fruit and coloured liquor. It reminded them of being at the resort in Cuba. Suddenly Robert paused from his sip to listened. He had noticed a distant sound. As it continued it became clearer, sounding as a finger nail would scraping across a blackboard. Bewildered, he asked his friends if they heard it as well. Matt and James strained to hear but noticed nothing. Robert attempted to shrug it off and continue with his drink. However, the sound continued. With each passing minute it seemed to become closer and more shrill. Finally Robert placed his cocktail back on the table. Wearing a puzzled annoyed expression he looked at the others. They in turn looked back. Robert muttered, "What the fuck is that anyway?" Matt returned the comment by sheepishly replying, "What are you talking about?" "That damn sound, that horrible sound, don't you hear it?" Matt and James looked at one another and then at Robert. Confused, they motioned back a "no". He was hearing it so clearly, but as he looked around the patio no one else seemed to . Robert slouched back into his chair and then immediately leaned forward. A cool sweat was forming over his body. He felt embarrassed and tried for composure. Matt leaned into Robert and placed a quiet comment that only the three could hear, "I think you have had too much to drink". Matt furthered by introducing some camp humour. All at once the noise stopped. Like a persistent pain that finally ceased Robert felt relief. His moment of panic was over. He gathered his composure and laughed at Matt's silly joke and claimed that the work week had been particularly brutal and probably another drink was exactly what he needed to let everything go. The boys smiled and carried on as before.
The meal arrived. With cutlery in hand they were just about to dig in. Again, suddenly without warning that same screech thrust itself into the evening once again. This time sharper and more powerful than before. Now sounding more like a howling cat. It was directly behind Robert. The force of it caused him to let go of his fork and knife which flew across the table onto the patio floor. The other patrons looked over and as Robert looked at Matt and James and all the people staring at him, he knew in an instant that this horrible sound was meant only for him.
What Robert had failed to see was those years of soured attempts at relationships and failed expressions of true emotion had created a manifestation that embodied all the resulting energy he had buried. His immediate world began to dim and move away, he planted his hands firmly, palms flattened against the table surface and elbows bent forward. As a roller coast rider would clutch tightly any fixture that would keep him steady, Robert held on. He tilted his head back and to the side. Finally he would see what was creating that horrifying cry. Ignoring the twisted expressions of fear and embarrassment on the faces of his friends he looked. Roberts eyes expanded to take in the view. His body vibrated and sweat poured from his brow. Before him stood what he recognized as a child. A girl child, an angry child with frowning dark eyes. She was looking right at him. Horrified and frozen he was unable to look away. From his mouth came the sound of air. A tainted sound mixed with a slight growl and groan. Fixed eye to eye they became locked in a timeless place where the outside world became dim and muted. This girl, this monster with black teased hair and black eyes looked down. Away from Robert's stare. His eyes followed hers. He began to notice what she was wearing. A loose ill fitted dress with the label sticking out through the top. It said DIOR. Below red shoes attached themselves to her skinny legs and he recognized them as Prada. Black strapless evening wear and Prada. His hands still buried into the top to of the table he moved his head away only this time to remember. Yes, remember a night of costumes and fun in a city full of Halloween. Where he wore such an outfit. He regained contact with the child and moved towards what she carried. In her hand was a large sack. In fact very large. To large for such a small dark girl to carry but nevertheless it was there, clenched in her right hand. The sack was opened and in it lay appliances, old used appliances, computer parts and old clothes and old porn magazines and old greeting cards. Robert saw all this at a glance and recognized each and every article as something that had been part of his life. The appliances were the old refuse of unsold product that had lay on the self of the store he worked in and were discarded. Thrown into the bin out back. They had a shelf life that had expired so they needed to go. The view of computer parts engaged his mind in memories of hours of chat, chat and more chat on line on Gay sites. Where with an open young mind and heart he attempted to connect. As he grew older in the Gay world he wore the debris of disappointment and began to go on line as someone else. He would fake an identity to harass and taunt the cruel Fags that had rejected him so ruthlessly. Like a gun one would shoot between the eyes of a perpetrator he shot his comments across the web. Displaying a picture of such a perfect man, that he knew that he would be forgiven any character defect because he was perceived as "hot". Once entrapped he would return back the hell that was thrust upon his life by those that wanted nothing he had to offer. The clothes the sundry items, the old cards of love from those that knew nothing about that emotion filled the bag. Cards promising love and loyalty forever. From men who's names he could not even recall anymore. The sack was full.
Looking once again into this child's eyes. Deep dark eyes he knew that this was born from him. This creature was his creation. He had no one to blame but himself. A tear fell from his eyes and as his hands let go of their position on the table he collapsed near where his cutlery had fallen. He lay on the patio and suddenly the world resumed. The sounds of people talking, yelling, car horns honking and patio dwellers gasping while his friends Matt and James sat motionless and speechless. Robert looked over and the little girl had vanished. A women came across the patio to help Robert. She alone took it upon herself to assist in anyway she could. The Gays, the waiter, the onlookers looked away and quietly returned to there dinners and drinks. Matt and James stood up to help the women help Robert to his chair. The manager came over and loudly advised Robert that they do not tolerated drunkenness and he firmly asked them all to leave. Matt finally spoke out and said that this was unfair. that they had been coming to Zelda's for years. The manager swiped back with, "You are banned from entering these premises again". Once Robert was back in his chair and on his feet, the women returned to her table. Robert looked at Matt and James. They returned with a look of disgust. James cried, "how could you embarrass us this way". Robert, still stunned, tried to speak but could only make a croaking sound. The manager escorted them to the gate. Matt and James left Robert alone on the street. Still confused Robert began to walk. He walked and walked. He did not look back to see what was behind him. He knew that the village was moving further away with each step. Tears fell from his eyes. He had never felt so alone. Now an outcast, what would he do where would he go? He found his way home. No messages on the answering machine and with the four walls closing upon him he knew that he had a choice. To live or to die. He had been so silently unhappy for so long he did not know how to feel any other way. As he leaned on the window sill looking down he raised his head and looked below. There, again in the dark was that horrible little girl. This time without the sack and to his astonishment she wore a smile. A bright smile. A smile of compassion and love and all good things. Then instantly she was gone. With that smile she had passed on a secret. A silent secret only he could hear. Robert turned to his closet and began to pack. He had been through hell that night but finally was beginning to see it all in a different way. He realized that a man is what he thinks about and becomes only that and nothing more. He suddenly knew he had power. The power to change. He took that power, or at least what he could grasp of it on such short notice and packed a suitcase. Wearing only shorts, a tank top and sandals he placed his bag in the truck of the car and pulled away from the building. In the dark he knew that to drive all his headlights would need to show him was 200 ft in front of him. So 200 feet at a time he would move. If a man is what he thinks about then he would think about other things, 200 feet at a time.
Want to comment on this Short Stories?
Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Short Stories and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
|
 |
|