Theo and Gregg returned to the flat about one AM after exploring Kelly Street, having met Lauren for bit of nosh at the Kelly Street Diner (some of the best greasy food this side of the South) and again, more shopping (one could wonder if Gregg was even straight?). Theo knew from his vast experience that an angry beaver is to be left alone and not fingered… I mean played with… wait… basically don’t touch the beaver!
Having discussed their reason for having been punted from the flat and Betsy’s mad interest in becoming a stripper, Lauren decided it was in her best interest to join Gregg and Theo in their endeavours for the remainder of the evening… thus returning with them to the flat.
So a bit more back story about Laruen, before we return to the angry beaver plotline. Yes Lauren and I go way back, but, Gregg and Lauren copped off a few times awhile ago but after the third or fourth… maybe fifth… they realised that they are definitely not dating material for each other and decided upon being mates. Thankfully, there are no hard feelings on either side and since then, they have become the best of mates. Also, Gregg told Betsy this right before they hooked up the first time because by that point she had met Laruen and was becoming rather fond of her. What’s in the past is just that… the past.
Right, back to the beaver.
Gregg, Theo and Lauren crept up the last flight of stairs to listen for any music or screaming.
“Maybe she danced herself into a coma?” Gregg said with a chortle.
“Maybe she went to bed already and dreams of stripping are dancing in her head?” Lauren added.
“My guess, she feels like an arse for going all Dalek on us earlier.” Theo concluded with a brilliant use of Dr. Who terminology.
Theo slid his key into the lock and sniffed. “I smell muffins!”
“But I thought the gays were impervious to the scent of muffin?” Laruen asked with a smirk.
“Not fish muffins, blueberry muffins. This can only mean one thing. She feels like shite and baked through her grief for us.” Theo, a la Sherlock Holmes, derived.
“Mmm, I love me some muffin.” Lauren added.
Both Theo and Gregg turned around and look at her with perplexed looks.
“What? Muffins rock!”
Theo opened the door and with a rush Betsy ran up and hugged him.
“I’m so sorry for acting how I did. I let the competition consume me and I lost sight of this whole thing just being fun. Can you forgive me? I baked muffins.” She said through tears.
“Since you baked muffins I can forgive you. But for only that reason!” Theo said with a smile.
“Wanker!” Betsy retorted as she ventured into the kitchen and retrieved the warm, fresh-baked, blueberry muffins.
You know you’re thinking about muffins now aren’t you? I can wait while you go get some! Lauren is spot on – MUFFINS ROCK!
Betsy returned to the living room to find that Lauren, Gregg and Theo had disappeared up to the terrace. Balancing the muffins on one hand she joined them.
“So how is your routine coming? I see you have returned the living room to its rightful state.” Gregg asked.
“Well, I have a few good moves, but the guilt of being such a bloody git began to sink in and I lost my concentration. And as you can see I felt brilliantly guilty.” Betsy said sitting down on the terracotta tiles lacing the terrace.
“Yes, four dozen muffins is a lot of guilt… but not as much at that one time when you baked five cheese cakes, muffins, chocolate covered fruit and made ice cream.” Theo said laughing.
“What the bloody hell do you do?” Lauren asked as her curiosity was getting the best of her.
“It was a science and agricultural homework assignment and I accidentally set fire to Lady Rabbit’s green house.” Betsy said as shame and embarrassment comsumed here, though it was over ten years ago that this happened.
“She burned the whole place down… to cinders! Theo added while laughing.
“Hey, thanks for reminding me, you wanker!” Betsy said and took a muffin and ground it into his fur.
“Gross! Now I need a shower.” Theo got up and tried to get as much muffin out of his fur as possible.
Lauren, Gregg and Betsy couldn’t help but laugh hysterically.
“Funny! I’m showering and I am using your comb to get all this out!” Theo said and sulked down the stairs.
The three of them just kept on laughing.
About forty minutes later (ten minutes to get the muffin out of his fur and thirty to use up as much hot water as possible in case Betsy needed a shower), Theo returned to the living room, clean and muffin free (as every gay bunny should be… the muffin free part that is… who wants to be clean when being dirty is so bleedin’ fun?). Betsy, Gregg and Lauren were reminiscing about embarrassing events to which baking occurred.
“All better now?” Betsy asked.
“Indeed. And there is no more hot water, thank you very much.” Theo responeded going into the kitchen to make himself a coffee.
“Cheers mate, but I showered earlier because I know you fancy a long shower.” Betsy retorted.
“Right then!” Theo turned back to his coffee.
“Pissy bunny.” Betsy said, again thinking it was under her breath but unfortunately, Theo’s hearing was impeccable.
“I heard that mangy beaver… in more ways that the obvious.” Theo finished his coffee and joined them in the living room.
Turning to Gregg, Betsy asked, “Gregg dear, care to chime in on that accusation?”
“Indeed. I can attest to the unmangy quality of said beaver. For like your first birthday cake…”
“You can stop right there mate!” Theo interrupted.
“So,” Betsy said as she placed her hands on her lap and turned to Theo. “I think we all know what time it is.”
“Two o’clock in the morning?” Lauren responded.
“Well that and Theo’s cocked up love life. I agreed earlier that later I would give you the opportunity to obsess upon this recent development. The floor is yours.” Betsy said as she looked at Theo with the eyes of a deranged therapist.
“Blimey! I had completely forgot… honestly. I was having so much fun this evening that I forgot that I was going to obsess upon Hadrian.” Theo had truly dissolved himself into the festivities of hanging out with Lauren and Gregg all evening.
“Who’s Hadrian and why did I have to wait until now to hear anything about this?” Lauren asked from the edge of her seat.
“Theo, can I?” Betsy asked turning to Theo for permission.
“By all means.” Theo granted her the spirit stick of storytelling.
“Right, backtracking just a bit. Being an idiot, Theo tripped and sprained his arm.”
“I know this bit… fast-forward to the good stuff.” Lauren excitedly asked.
Betsy retold the story of being in the hospital, Hadrian having been called away on an emergency, the pharmacist assuming Theo was coming onto him, the busy signals and Theo all but giving up on Hadrian. Betsy can weave an exhilarating yarn on most any topic. You should the adventures of her colonoscopy!
“That’s fucked up mate.” Lauren succinctly put.
“I know right? Who in the bloody hell doesn’t have call waiting these days? Or a phone that will go to voicemail? What the fuck is wrong with men? Anyone?” Theo asked as his body remembered the sting of Hadrian.
“I have a theory.” Gregg interjected.
“I’m all ears.” Theo eagerly responded.
“Right you are on that one!” Betsy interjected with a giggle.
Gregg sat up and adjusted himself in a professorial manner in respect of the enlightenment he was about to bestow. Lauren, Betsy and Theo leaned in with great antici… pation (get the reference?).
“Throughout history there have always been four types to the males of any species. The stouche, the gouche, the LAD and the extremely rare honourable decent version. The stouche and gouche are two of the same derivation… the straight douche bag, a.k.a. stouche and the gay douch bag, a.k.a. gouche. These two types are the most common and we can instantly oberseve this type for they are rife in society. So far, I am quite certain that Hadrian is a gouche, but this could simply be an occurrence of miscommunication… only time will tell on this one. Most men fall under these two catagories with varying degrees of douchiness. I myself have fallen prey to the stouche behaviour from time to time.” Gregg relayed to the group.
“I hope said behaviour is something in the past.” Betsy said as she laid her head upon his lap.
“I would love to say ‘tis, but I am quite sure I will have stouchey moments. Just let me know when I am being stouchey and we can talk it out.” Gregg assured her.
“It’s weird seeing you in a relationship. I assumed I would be the first one.” Theo said looking over at them being intimate and picturing his head in Hadrian’s lap (you know you would too!!).
“I know, right?” Betsy said turning her head and looking over and Theo. “Continue please.” She said looking up at Gregg.
“Now, the extreme form of the douche bag is the LAD, which stands for, Lying Arsehole Douche bag. Truthfully, this should be LADB but most people seem to think that douche bag is one word since it’s only one object, thus it’s been reduced to LAD. I have observed many men having LADish moments but there are truly only a few where this is their primary form of personality or being if you will. Take your people Theo, the homo’s. You have Fox street and Fox has been synonymous with a type of excursion or event or behaviour or pretty much a substitution for a noun, verb or adjective, e.g. – ‘I went foxing last night’. You’re people have taken the LAD moniker and added Fox to it, thus a Foxy LAD is an extreme form of the gay version of a LAD which, brilliantly I might add, has seeped into the breeder world and thus Foxy LAD is now synonymous with the extreme form of a male entity.” Gregg continued.
“If I may interject…” Theo said.
“By all means.” Gregg replied with a mock bow.
“I have come to believe that being a Foxy LAD is the normal base personality for my people. From experience I have gleamed this to be most true. Take Brad for example. He cheated on me with his then girlfriend, lead me on, only to break my heart, return to her then flaunt it in front of me for the rest of the school year. It all makes perfect sense now.” Theo’s revelation gave him peace. To approach the meeting of guys from this perspective, one’s expectations are never dashed. Should a man prove otherwise (which RARELY happens), then it’s a blessing.
“From what I have heard from Betsy and yourself, I know for certain that Brad was the Lord of the Foxy LADs and should I meet him, if you’ll permit, I would gladly kick the shite out of him or, weather permitting, push him off a building and say that he slipped in the rain.” Gregg asserted.
“Why are all of you talking so posh?” Betsy asked.
“I do believe, my dearest cup of cake, topics of intense depth and thought require said potificatorial mannerisms with which to convey the idea’s at hand.” Lauren replied.
“Excellent use of the English language there Lauren. Please, if you will permit, colour me impressed.” Gregg responded to her with a bow of his head.
“Freaks, the lot of you.” Betsy said and arose from Gregg’s lap and went into the kitchen. “Doth anyone findeth themselves within the grips of hunger?” She asked with a pompous flair.
Gregg looked at Theo and Lauren. “I do believe that consensus is accurate. Servant beaver, would you please conjure up some nibblies and champ.” Gregg asked from across the room.
“Conjure this.” Betsy said under her breath as she grabbed her beaver. “Well, we ain’t got shite in da fridge. Anything open at this hour for delivery?” She returned to the living room.
“My dearest cup of cake, for we dwell in the Big City, there are always options at this late hour.” Gregg replied. “There are many destinations within walking distance I believe would welcome our patronage.”
“I concur indeed.” Lauren added.
“Only if you stop talking like Elizabethan freaks.” Betsy said as she grabbed her lightweight summer jacket.
“Actually it was more Nineteenth Century… were it Elizabethan there would have been more eth’s at the end of every word.” Gregg replied.
“Whatever. I’m hungry. Let’s away!” Betsy said as she walked out of the flat and down the stairs.
“I do believe that we are more within the grips of a moody beaver than that of hunger, don’t you find?” Lauren asked Gregg.
“Indubitably!” Gregg replied.
Theo, Gregg, and Lauren bowed to each other and broke out laughing.
“Chivvy on freaks!” Betsy yelled from the ground floor.
Without realising it, Theo left his mobile on the kitchen counter where he placed it upon returning home. The message light was blinking.
The din that permeated the Kelly Street Diner was a cacophony of sound and scent… intense and flamboyant conversations mixed with the greasy scent of sausages and bacon, the soft hum of lovers mingled with the sweetness of pancakes and syrup. There are many diners in the Big City but the Kelly Street Diner always has a line at most times of the circadian revolution.
Being that is was Saturday, The Kelly Street Diner was packed around this time of night with weekend revellers, underage goth kids that were are stoned out of their minds and can only afford coffee and those intense artist insomniacs. Gregg, being close mates with the French Peacock host girl (no, they didn’t sleep together. I know you were thinking that from the picture I have painted of Gregg but trust me, he is that rare type of decent man), was able to use that in order to gain a table faster.
“Back again mon petit chou?” Miette, the French Peacock asked.
“And this time I bring my girlfriend.” Gregg replied.
Betsy, Theo and Lauren all stared at Gregg, mouths dropped. He turned around just in time to see them.
“What?” He asked, stunned.
“Your girlfriend?” Betsy asked. She didn’t know whether to be elated or shocked.
“I just said that didn’t I?” Embarrassment flooded into his system.
“Yeah, ya did. Not that I am in any way upset.” Betsy replied.
Theo and Lauren followed the French Peacock to the table and did their best to peruse the menu and not gawk at Gregg and Betsy still in the doorway staring at each other in disbelief.
“Right, what do you think about it them?” Gregg asked terrified of what the answer might be.
Betsy looked at him and then at the ceiling and pondered this new development. “Upon intense scrutiny of proposed idea, I do find myself rather enamoured of the idea. I do believe, if you will permit me saying so, that you now find yourself in the company of a girlfriend.” She turned back to him and smiled until her cheeks hurt.
“This is most wonderful news.” Gregg replied as he grabbed and her kissed her. “Attention, this beaver is now my girlfriend!” Gregg yelled to the entire restaurant.
Applause erupted and Gregg and Betsy responded with the most proper bows (and posh golf claps).
“Aw, that’s so sweet.” Lauren said while sticking her finger in her mouth and making the ‘gag me’ gesture.
Theo chortled. “At least they don’t have sex at the flat so I don’t have to listen to it… nothing more disturbing than a hole-digging gopher pounding a wood eating beaver.”
“And thank you so very much indeed for that wonderful image!” Lauren said.
Gregg and Betsy joined them at the table and picked up menus.
“I think you’ll do fine tomorrow night. The spotlight seems able to find you anywhere.” Theo retorted.
Theo did feel a tiny sting with their blunt announcement. What was the point of Hadrian giving me his number if he hadn’t planned to answer his phone, Theo thought to himself.
Why are most men one, or more, of the categories listed above? Most fall under the first three, and the final category is truly the rare breed. From perusing many online profiles (for research purposes mind you) everyone seems to be looking for the same thing – a relationship. Yet, all are quite willing to treat you like shit, lie to you, lead you on then reject you without any reason why. To add insult to injury, they will then flaunt their new paramour (who they most likely are simply using for sex) in your face. After said rejection, most men have this amazing ability to forget they were even talking to you in the first place. This compartmentalisation can be frightening. You didn’t serve their purpose so you no longer exist to them.
This doesn’t make any sense to me. But then again since most men are some derivation of douche bag, this make complete sense. My thought it this – you complain about wanting a relationship and when the possibility of one presents itself, someone willing to step up to the plate and see this idea through, you freak out! WTF (which is an acronym for What-the-Fuck-you-stupid-bloody-arsehole-douche-bag-wanker-fuckwit-I’m-going-to-lie-to-the-police-and-have-you-deported-then-shoot-your-entire-family-while-you-are-forced-to-watch…WTF just fits better on the tongue when you say it)
You whinge and whinge on and on until you’re horse about wanting to be in a relationship yet are completely unwilling to do anything about it. From that viewpoint, I should just give up since all the men I have met fall into this category. There were so many days, before I met John, that I would have loved to walk into a café and shoot all the lying fuckwit gay men. But, apparently killing people for fun is illegal, yet killing someone in self-defence isn’t. At the time I had yet to think up a plausible reason for the self-defence route – what, guy stole my coffee? Could go pretty far on that one since people in the Big City are particularly obsessed and snobby about their coffee… but the judge could simply counter with asking me why I just didn’t order another one but instead shot twenty men. And responding that they deserved it since they were Foxy LADs didn’t seem an appropriate excuse… an understandable one since most people know a version of this type… but.
I think there should be schools or camps or something that men these days are required to attend or face being humiliated and shot by me (as a creative type, I can assure you that I will think up some brilliantly insane ideas). Obedience training is definitely in order here… and I would LOVE to be the ring master.
I would beat all you arseholes into submission!
And that is why I am simply a writer and not the leader of a country. Then again, my country would be populated with decent monogamous men who respect other people. My own personal jury seems to still be deliberating on this issue (run a country or remain a writer).
Why are gay men whores? Why do all of you use people for sex? Everyone seems to treat everyone else like meat! I shower everyday and I still haven’t found a barcode on my body denoting that I am meat. I am a Persian cat, not a bovine lummox like the lot of you. Before John, I gathered that since I would never allow anyone to treat me like meat, my sex life was pretty much null and void. I would venture to the house of ill repute (that would be a sex house to all you nimrods) and still not get laid. As if the buffet didn’t even want me to eat from it. After awhile I came to the belief that I was simply invisible… too ‘something’ or not ‘enough’ for anyone. Thus I became a writer. I never had to leave my flat and could escape the world. Which, if you ask me, is a rather healthy viewpoint.
That was until I bought this building and gave Arnie the café… course I laid down a rule that no LADs would be allowed. Some of you are rather cunning in your disguises. Blending in perfectly with the outside world so as to fool anyone. But I know who you are… I can see through that thinly veiled masque you wear. You may fool that twelve year old twinkie but I know what you are!
And by twelve year old I don’t in any way mean paedophilia. I just think that anyone under thirty and over eighteen is a twelve year old. Stupid, immature with better skin than me! So I am ageist. When you hit thirty-six then come talk to me about hanging out with a twenty-one year old. Cute for like five seconds then you just want to punch them!
I am not a daddy nor looking for one. John is a bit younger than I, he’s thirty-one, but he treats me with the greatest respect. Yeah he does like a bit of clubbing from time to time as do I, but he always goes home with me. Come to think of it, I haven’t really talked about John much. But that, my friends, is saved for another day.
“As much as it pains me to say, I think you should just let him go.” Betsy said to Theo as she perused the menu.
“I know. It’s just… there was intention there. I felt it.” Theo said staring off into the air surrounding them.
“Sometimes, there is. As much as I believe most men to fit into one or more of the categories, I do believe that deep down more of them have the best of intentions at the start, but their own hang-ups, if you will, end up getting in the way… or if they are with a gaggle of gouches, peer pressure consumes them. That said, there are a few that revel in douchey behaviour.” Greg said as he put the menu down and looked at Theo. “Like I mentioned earlier, this may just be an occurrence of miscommunication.”
“You’re probably right, but I am just confused and frustrated.” Theo said. “I understood people in Blue Hollow… whether I agreed with them or not, I knew who they were… while here it’s all smoke and mirrors. Most of the inhabitants of the Hollow I have known most of them since I was born. How they walk, what they eat, dress like. Yes, there were a few bad seeds at school but not even close to the level I have seen here. But then again, things move a bit slower in the Hollow. We have the wooing process… etiquette and gentlemen. The Big City guys are all driving SUV’s and appear to delight in the hit-and-run… present company definitely excluded mind you.” Theo picked up his menu and distractedly looked for something he felt like eating.
“Things move a lot faster here. I moved here years ago as a kid and it took me some time to feel like I fit in. Lu was the first person I met and we have been friends ever since. And look at us… in almost two weeks you have a group of friends, Betsy has a boyfriend, and you have already had the score of a potential relationship cross your path. That’s far more than most people who were born here ever find. So you’re actually scoring rather well.” Lauren added while reaching across the table and grabbing Theo’s hand. “So I think, my dear bunny, you need to simply pull your bunny head, out of your fuzzy arse and snap out of it! I am not going to enjoy my meal with some mopey bunny wallowing in self pity!” She added with a smile.
“I like you!” Betsy said smiling.
“I know, I know, I know! It’s just…” Theo said shaking his head.
“Intention is a powerful drug little bunny. We have all fallen prey to its spell many times over. Even the toughest man will never be immune to intention.” Gregg interrupted Theo full knowing where he was going with his thought.
“Sorry for being mopey.” Theo replied.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about Theo. We have been through far worse that this, and in a year from now, you’ll look back and think – why did I even spend a second feeling sorry for myself.” Betsy said putting the menu down and turning to Theo as she hugged him. “And anyway, his penis is probably really tiny and my bunny needs a man who can satisfy him, not pick the food out of his teeth with.”
“Gross!” Theo replied smiling.
From that point on, they ate, laughed, retold more embarrassing stories from their childhoods… all bringing them closer as friends. Yes Hadrian passed across Theo’s mind with a tinge every time throughout the night, but all he had to do was look around and feel safe and comforted in this new Urban Family he and Betsy stumbled into.
The blue of the night sky was being chased across the sky by the fiery orange of the morning sun as Theo, Betsy, Gregg and Lauren left the diner.
“Um, what time is it?” Betsy asked as she looked up into the morning sky.
“It be seven-thirty AM.” Gregg replied.
“We were there for four hours. Damn that flew by.” Betsy brought her head down from they sky.
“What now?” Theo asked.
“I have to get home and get some sleep.” Lauren interjected. “Thank god I live in Lu’s building and it’s only five blocks.”
“You want to come over?” Betsy said nuzzling up to Gregg.
“If it’s ok with Theo.” The tiredness was creeping up on all of them.
“Fine. I just better not hear anything.” Theo retort with a stern face.
“Oh, you’ll hear everything… and you’ll like it… you filthy bunny.” Betsy said stumbling.
“I certainly hope that’s the sleep talking.” Theo said as he hugged Lauren. “you’re coming to her show tonight?”
“I wouldn’t miss it!” Lauren countered. “Sweet dreams all of you!” With that, she turned and walked over to the café building.
“Night!” Gregg answered.
“I think I am going to take a walk in the park. Clear my head a bit.” Theo said as they made it to their building.
“Don’t wallow to much… not very healthy.” Greg replied and he and Betsy walked up the stoop.
“Just need to work it out and pass it on through… like constipation.” Theo giggled.
“Well, you have fun unloading your thoughts! Be careful though, it’s day enough where there will be the morning joggers but still quiet enough for the lurkers.”
“Thanks mate… I may just got to the café then.” Theo said and walked off.
Intention truly is a powerful drug. You see someone in a café and when it goes beyond the basic flirting… a few glances to actual intentional flirting with purpose… you are hooked and drugged before you realise. Everyone wishes to be love… to be found attractive… to be wanted. There are times people simply engage in sex just for the feeling of another’s hands upon them… basic physical contact. But, like all drugs, too much can seriously warp your perceptions and self-control.
Common sense and the heart rarely see eye-to-eye. Common sense dictates that from experience, that man flirting with you is probably a stouche or gouche or Foxy LAD… yet your heart still believes that there are decent males out there and decides to jumped head first into the game of flirting. Little do you know that you just jump into the shallow end of the pool and smashed your head upon the tile floor. As wonderful a heart can be, they are also capable of immense stupidity. Like SERIOUSLY bad decisions that are based on abso-bloody-lutely no fact whatsoever. But it’s the heart after all… the one muscle that even after a few breaks, still believes in love.
Which can be a good thing or a bad thing. The Jury is still out on this one!