Mr Cool
I’m sure you are under no surprise, is that the expression? I was munted and slept right through. Wednesday Morning? I know that should mean something to me. Middle of the week, I believe. Or it once was. How quickly the slide had happened this time. Not even a week and look at yourself Joshy boy.
The best tux in existence, couldn’t bring back, “Hello there, I am Josh Grant.” No amount of varnish was going to make that come true this morning.
I headed out into the kitchen, I had half a morning woodie, it felt nice moving up and down with the movement of my leg. It seemed like a morning just like any other morning. And if just to reiterate the 9 to 5 gypsy curse, I was awake at 6am. Lovely.
But I’d slept from 10am yesterday. My head spun. I was having trouble grasping this concept, do I need to tell you?”
Daniel was yet to get up.
I was just not in the mood for I’m-sorry-I-played-with-your-boyfriend’s-wazza. It won’t happen again. I promise.
I got juice from the fridge and poured a glass.
Just quietly, I was thinking, like, about time. I was beginning to feel a disgrace to all the gay men who have come before me. I’d never hit on one of Daniel’s straight friends. My gay stripes were seriously in doubt.
They had a meeting to discuss it. The gay agenda.
So, Carl hey? I wanted to have a joint and whack off over him again. Who’d have thought?
I got muesli from the pantry. I got milk from the fridge.
What does he mean Daniel had never mentioned that I was gay. That can’t be true? Surely? My cool big brother. Everything was in rethink. The things I thought I knew, it was apparent, I may not know at all. Had he really turned into somebody who I didn’t know.
6.45. I fish shorts and a tshirt out of the dirty washing basket in the laundry. I get socks to. I find my ipod and my keys in the kitchen. I head out into the crisp morning air and jog slowly up C Street. It is cool and crisp and the lighting is on dim. The birds are chirping. A flock of them fly over head and are suddenly squawking loudly above me, then the cheap retreats.
Michael Jackson’s Escape plays in my ears. I like it. I don’t think it is a Frankenstein at all.
I jog down to Hoddle Street. I jog back up Victoria Parade to Nicholson Street. The streets are quiet, the traffic is sparse heading into the city. The air burns in my nostrils and my throat and on my tongue.
A black cat crosses my path. A Chow runs beside me for a moment and then retreats, which was kind of surreal, I have to tell you.
I gasp for breath back in my kitchen, as I confirm on the mantle clock that I’d been gone for an hour.
I spoon mouthfuls of over-soaked muesli that now resembles porridge, into my mouth, then immediately wonder why I was doing that.
I find a hoodie in the laundry and I put it on. I think I am endlessly going backwards and forwards to the laundry, when I go for a pair of track suit pants. There is only a pair of Daniel’s, I put them on anyway. I try to measure the pushed out crotch space compared to how I filled them. I pull the waistband out and in several times as I head back to the kitchen.
What would Freud say about me wanting to always look down my brother's pants. Some times, when I am doing the washing, I hold his running shorts up and just sometimes they are still in the shape of him. I just gaze at them, noticing where all the bulges are.
I get peaches from the fridge and spoon quiet a few into my bowl.
Then “cool (and I would do parenthesis in the air) bro", showed his face. In the mutual space, granted, thank the universe. He is dressed, which can only be good. Washed. Shaved. Ready for work. About to leave, by my reckonings.
I munched my muesli silently. Well, I was kind of straining it through my teeth by that stage, but we don’t need to go into that.
The machine whirred as it made his coffee.
I said nothing.
He got the milk attachment from the fridge.
“Have all the ‘lads’ gone.”
“Yes.”
“You are the last one?”
“I said yes, didn’t I?”
He cleaned the milk attachment. He put it back in the fridge. Coffee complete.
“You know what I don’t understand?” He raised his hands in the air and then backed up. “You know something, I don’t want to know.”
He headed out the back door with the coffee in his hand. A few moments later I heard the roller door make a clunk noise. His car started up a moment later. It clicked as reverse was selected. Two quick revs and the noise of the motor drifted away.
He left for the hospital.
The roller door whirred down and clicked when it was fully closed.
You know what I don’t understand, I believe, was the statement.
There was nothing that happened that was beyond the grasp of a relatively bright twelve year old – maybe that twelve year old would have to grow up with two daddies? – and here was Doctor Daniel having an existentialist crisis.
Oh big deal, I touched his buddy’s wiener. It was nice too. Carl has a great cock. I wouldn’t have picked Carl, if you had asked me, but it was great watching the brain/penis blood ratio so, so change for the better. He’s one hot, uninhibited boy, I reckon he’d be up for everything.
So his buddies know that he did a homo thing. Big deal. The more of them who know that more of them are doing it, there will be more of them doing it. It is only logical.
I want to fuck Carl's arse.
The best tux in existence, couldn’t bring back, “Hello there, I am Josh Grant.” No amount of varnish was going to make that come true this morning.
I headed out into the kitchen, I had half a morning woodie, it felt nice moving up and down with the movement of my leg. It seemed like a morning just like any other morning. And if just to reiterate the 9 to 5 gypsy curse, I was awake at 6am. Lovely.
But I’d slept from 10am yesterday. My head spun. I was having trouble grasping this concept, do I need to tell you?”
Daniel was yet to get up.
I was just not in the mood for I’m-sorry-I-played-with-your-boyfriend’s-wazza. It won’t happen again. I promise.
I got juice from the fridge and poured a glass.
Just quietly, I was thinking, like, about time. I was beginning to feel a disgrace to all the gay men who have come before me. I’d never hit on one of Daniel’s straight friends. My gay stripes were seriously in doubt.
They had a meeting to discuss it. The gay agenda.
So, Carl hey? I wanted to have a joint and whack off over him again. Who’d have thought?
I got muesli from the pantry. I got milk from the fridge.
What does he mean Daniel had never mentioned that I was gay. That can’t be true? Surely? My cool big brother. Everything was in rethink. The things I thought I knew, it was apparent, I may not know at all. Had he really turned into somebody who I didn’t know.
6.45. I fish shorts and a tshirt out of the dirty washing basket in the laundry. I get socks to. I find my ipod and my keys in the kitchen. I head out into the crisp morning air and jog slowly up C Street. It is cool and crisp and the lighting is on dim. The birds are chirping. A flock of them fly over head and are suddenly squawking loudly above me, then the cheap retreats.
Michael Jackson’s Escape plays in my ears. I like it. I don’t think it is a Frankenstein at all.
I jog down to Hoddle Street. I jog back up Victoria Parade to Nicholson Street. The streets are quiet, the traffic is sparse heading into the city. The air burns in my nostrils and my throat and on my tongue.
A black cat crosses my path. A Chow runs beside me for a moment and then retreats, which was kind of surreal, I have to tell you.
I gasp for breath back in my kitchen, as I confirm on the mantle clock that I’d been gone for an hour.
I spoon mouthfuls of over-soaked muesli that now resembles porridge, into my mouth, then immediately wonder why I was doing that.
I find a hoodie in the laundry and I put it on. I think I am endlessly going backwards and forwards to the laundry, when I go for a pair of track suit pants. There is only a pair of Daniel’s, I put them on anyway. I try to measure the pushed out crotch space compared to how I filled them. I pull the waistband out and in several times as I head back to the kitchen.
What would Freud say about me wanting to always look down my brother's pants. Some times, when I am doing the washing, I hold his running shorts up and just sometimes they are still in the shape of him. I just gaze at them, noticing where all the bulges are.
I get peaches from the fridge and spoon quiet a few into my bowl.
Then “cool (and I would do parenthesis in the air) bro", showed his face. In the mutual space, granted, thank the universe. He is dressed, which can only be good. Washed. Shaved. Ready for work. About to leave, by my reckonings.
I munched my muesli silently. Well, I was kind of straining it through my teeth by that stage, but we don’t need to go into that.
The machine whirred as it made his coffee.
I said nothing.
He got the milk attachment from the fridge.
“Have all the ‘lads’ gone.”
“Yes.”
“You are the last one?”
“I said yes, didn’t I?”
He cleaned the milk attachment. He put it back in the fridge. Coffee complete.
“You know what I don’t understand?” He raised his hands in the air and then backed up. “You know something, I don’t want to know.”
He headed out the back door with the coffee in his hand. A few moments later I heard the roller door make a clunk noise. His car started up a moment later. It clicked as reverse was selected. Two quick revs and the noise of the motor drifted away.
He left for the hospital.
The roller door whirred down and clicked when it was fully closed.
You know what I don’t understand, I believe, was the statement.
There was nothing that happened that was beyond the grasp of a relatively bright twelve year old – maybe that twelve year old would have to grow up with two daddies? – and here was Doctor Daniel having an existentialist crisis.
Oh big deal, I touched his buddy’s wiener. It was nice too. Carl has a great cock. I wouldn’t have picked Carl, if you had asked me, but it was great watching the brain/penis blood ratio so, so change for the better. He’s one hot, uninhibited boy, I reckon he’d be up for everything.
So his buddies know that he did a homo thing. Big deal. The more of them who know that more of them are doing it, there will be more of them doing it. It is only logical.
I want to fuck Carl's arse.
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