od, I love television. You can sit for hours, on your fat ass, on your fat couch, and the entertainment just comes right to you in five minute doses thankfully compartmentalized by commercial breaks. I was watching The New TNN aka The Only Network for Men aka SpikeTV, MXC had ended and I was trying to figure out what to watch next when some ratty ass guy came on screen. “It’s me,” he began. ”I’m Dick and welcome back to Straight Eye for a Queer Guy.” Ooh, this sounds good. “T’day we’re gonna go butch up some fag named Sebastian.” Roll montage of four guys in flannel shirts and holy jeans drinking beer, kicking things and hitting each other. Trendy theme music. Title screen. Then the show began: “So, Sebastian, you’re gay, right?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” Yes, he was. And he looked it. He wore a pink frilly shirt and some of those acid washed jeans. You know, the ones with the weird color blotches everywhere. He also had buckles on his shoes.
“Well, we can fix that,” Dick was saying. ”And why did you want to be on the show?”
“Well,” Sebastian explained, “gay has just become so hip. Everyone is doing it. And I don’t think I want to live a television network propagated stereotype.” He gestured as he spoke, flopping his hands around at the wrists.
“Right.” Dick was looking Sebastian up and down, sizing him up, considering the job at hand. “Ok. First rule: don’t talk so fucking much. Grunt if you have to, but none of those big words. Got it?”
“Ugh,” said Sebastian. They both had a chuckle at that. “Oooh, I like that. So macho.” The gay man grunted gutturally like a Ugluck the caveman claiming the best female for himself.
“There you go.” Dick smiled, perhaps there was hope for Sebastian. “Why talk when a nod or grunt will do? And a nod or grunt will always do, especially when some chick wants to know how you feel. Now, let’s go take a look at yer pad.” The two stepped through into a living room decorated art deco style. Bright walls, funky furniture, the works. Dick wrinkled his nose in the disgust that accompanies unfamiliarity: “First question, Sebastian, what’s the funky smell you got going on in here?”
“That’s not a nasty smell,” Sebastian protested, “that’s my jasmine-mint scented cand… what the hell is that man doing to my ficus?”
Across the room, a fat man with a beer in his hand stood with his back to Dick and Sebastian. His pants were around his knees. His tightie-whities sported a nice brown skid mark, probably cultivated carefully over the past few weeks. “If you mean that little tree, then don’t worry, that’s Bob, our interior decorator. He’s just taking a leak. That should help with the smell.”
“What about my candle?” Sebastian asked.
“Yeah. So, that’s gonna have to go, too.” Dick picked the candle up and chucked it through a window. Window shattered, Dick didn’t notice, he went on with his craft: “What’s all this you’ve got hanging on your walls?”
“You mean the art?” Sebastian stood next to a framed print of what must have been the result if some kid who ate paint chips all his life had vomited.
“You mean the art?” Dick repeated mockingly. ”No, I mean the crap. No man hangs anything on his walls except boobie pictures.” He tore one of the pictures off the wall savagely, tossing it on the floor. “This is all gonna have to go… except her. Who’s that chick?”
“You mean Judy Garland?”
“Yeah, she’s kinda a babe. She can stay... Oh, God, but that Streisand bitch has got to go.” Dick and Sebastian left Bob to finish the re-decoration of the living room. Bob looked up to the task. He had finished with the ficus and was holding his pants on with one hand. Too drunk to fasten his belt. He staggered across the room, kicking the coffee table as he passed it by. The fat fuck (straight fat fuck) flopped down on the couch and flipped on the TV. Sports.
Dick and Sebastian entered the bedroom. “Now, meet Jesus. He’s gonna be picking yer clothes today.”
Jesus greeted the two with a nod. “Hey, Sebastian. Why don’t you try on these pants and shirt.” He offered up a pair of blue sweat pants and a green t-shirt.
Sebastian took the clothes, eyeing them distastefully. “But, they clash…”
Jesus slapped Sebastian across the face. “Don’t ever let me hear that word from you again.” Shock and awe were written across the gay man’s face. His eyes began to glisten, filling with tears. “Oh, stop it.” Sebastian cried. “Be a man, you fucking pan…
The screen went blue and my television squealed annoyingly, “Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeee – This station is experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by…”
“…ineless wreck. Look at yourself, all crying and sh…”
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeee – We’re having some more difficulties, so just chill.
“…And we’re back.” Dick was on camera again. Smiling. “Looks like we were having some difficulties with one of the cameras. It’s fixed.” Sebastian, stood in the background, puffy eyed and sniveling but wearing his new outfit. “Now, let’s see how Sebastian and Jesus are doing…”
Jesus was explaining to Sebastian the finer points of male attire. “…You see, most men are color blind, we’re just too proud to admit it to any chicks. The only thing that separates men from… well, from gay men, is that you can tell red from green… That and you like buttsex, I guess.
“Ugh.” Sebastian was getting better at grunting.
“Haha, now you’re getting it.” Dick clapped Sebastian on the back. Hard. Like a Man. “Let’s move on into the bathroom to see what we can do about that hair.”
“But I spent hours on this hair.” Sebastian put his hands to his disheveled coif.
“It looks almost like you just slept in it.” Almost like he slept in it. It was clearly gelled in all the right places.
“Thank you.” Sebastian smiled, “that’s the look.”
“If you spend hours trying to make your hair look like you didn’t spend hours on it, you’re gay.”
“But I am g…” Sebastian began.
“We’ve got one day and you’re not making this any easier.” Dick glanced into the shower. “Oh my God, what the fuck is this shit?” He lifted a small plastic bottle. Looked expensive.
“That’s my exfoliating facial scrub,” Sebastian snatched the bottle, cradling it delicately in his hands.
“You don’t need exolfating fecal scrubs.” Dick was collecting all the various bottles and tubes and containers in Sebastian’s shower. “It looks like a chick uses this bathroom, minus the hair balls.” He dumped the self-care products into the waste basket. “Men use, at the most, shampoo, soap - and get the bar, none of that pretty smelling goo - and maybe toothpaste.” Dick lifted the toilet seat. Left it open. “This toilet seat should be up at all times as well.” Whipping out his schlong, Dick dribbled a little on the seat of the toilet. “There, that should do it, now we’re getting somewhere. The only other thing in this bathroom should be some porn, right here, to read while you take a dump. And maybe a wet towel. Don’t hang it up though, just toss it on the floor. And leave it there, dammit!”
“Oh, I can do that!” Excitedly, Sebastian took a plush towel down from its hook behind the door and threw it to the floor. He threw like a girl, flopping his wrists.
“That was good, but let’s practice a few more times. Wet towel is key tossing. Toss it like you don’t care where it lands… There that’s good.”
Jesus piped in: “You should shower maybe once or twice a week. Anything more than that and you’re going to smell too much like a girl. You want people to be able to smell you before they see you. That’s Man-presence. And when you shave, miss a few spots and don’t forget to give yourself a few nicks. If you’re not bleeding when you’re all done, you did it wrong.” Sebastian was nodding excitedly. “It helps if you never change razors… and use those cheap Bic disposable ones, none of this Mach 3 crap.” Jesus picked up Sebastian’s razor as though it were a wet diaper and tossed it in the open toilet.
“Let’s go see how Bob is doing with the decorations,” Dick led Sebastian back into the living room. Beer bottles stood emptily on most every flat surface. Most of them seemed to have been emptied by Bob himself. Now that’s dedication to your craft. Pizza boxes on the coffee table. Dirty clothes on the couch. A slowly spreading yellow stain around the ficus. Bob lay sprawled on the couch, passed out. Sports-casters loudly called the plays of the game on television.
Sebastian freaked, “Oh my God! Someone, call the police! Someone broke in and trashed the place!”
Dick chuckled. Bob stirred, vomited on the floor, mumbled something about ‘big ‘ol titties’ and lay still. “Don’t worry, we fixed it up for you. Looks like Bob’s doing fine in here. Let’s go see what Chuck is fixin’ for food.” Dick and Sebastian moved into the kitchen. Sebastian was silent, maybe being straight was too much for him.
They were greeted in the kitchen by a sweaty fat Man in a dirty white apron. Looked like he could easily have worked at some truck stop diner in Idaho. “Hello, Sebastian. I’m Chuck. I’m gonna show you how to eat like a Man. First, let’s take a look in your fridge.” Chuck opened the fridge. Frowned, “ok, your food is way too fresh. What I’m gonna do is turn down the cooler.” The fat Man reached into the fridge and made an adjustment to the temperature. “Now, everything should spoil in a few days. Resist your natural desire to throw it out.”
“When do I know when to throw it out, then?”
“You’ll know,” Chuck explained. “Usually, someone will see it all moldy and nasty and shit in there and do it for you, if it gets bad enough.”
“Oh, I see.” Sebastian was trying to remember all these tips and tricks. So much to learn in just one day.
Chuck moved to the counter where he had laid out some food stuffs. “I noticed a lot of foreign sounding food in your fridge. Foy Grass and Merlotte and Caviere and that sorta crap. Men eat American, so, today we’re making microwave hot dogs.” He tossed two Oscar Meyer wieners into the microwave. Not on a plate, not on a paper towel, just directly on the floor the microwave. Saves on dishes that way, I should remember that. “After they’re nice and plump, I like to put onions, ketchup, mustard and chili-from-the-can on top.” Chuck showed Sebastian an already opened can of Hormel chili. “Remember, chili has beef in it. If it doesn’t have beef, it’s no chili, so don’t buy it. When making hot dogs, you don’t need to warm the chili up, just scoop right out of the can with your fingers and kinda just spread it on.” Chuck demonstrated, licking his fingers clean when he had finished. “There you go,” he offered a dog to Sebastian, “try it out.”
Sebastian carefully took a bite. Chewed. This was Man food. He nodded his approval and smiled.
“Well, Sebastian, looks like you’re on your way to becoming a Ma…” I didn’t watch the rest. I can’t watch any show for more than about five minutes. That’s why I’m glad I have so many channels.
Copyright © 2003