Homo Me, Homo Me Not
Chapter 1: Meet the Homo-Lover
To me, the world's population is divided up into three parts.
Stupid, normal, brainy?
Okay… I know it was random.
Number one, the normal people.
What's exactly normal anyway?
I'm not going to go all philosophic on this. That's for the people like Socrates and the feared and hated Pythagoras, the inventor or philosopher of the Pythagorean Theorum. Ooooh… you evil man…
Anyway, the normal people are… the people who don't care about the weird and interesting things in the world. The people who are content with their lives and will not trade their picket fences and 2.5 kids for barbed-50 foot walls and a Rottweiler.
As if that made sense.
The world is filled with 'normal' people. You're normal, right?
Don't look at me like that. I know you aren't.
Have you ever tried to stuff 34 M&M's in your mouth in one go?
Or what about snorting baby powder?
Have you ever tried to read (waggles eyebrows) porn?
Wait… isn't that normal?
What is normal anyway?
Oh please don't mind me. I'm off my rocker.
If I had one… I've never had a rocking chair in my life. Cause I think I broke one… maybe…
That's not the point.
The point is… I suppose 50 of the world is full of normal people. People whose names are Joe, Sara, Mandy, Tim and the equally boring names. Oh wait… Sam! Yeah!
Normal people have many different categories, but I'll talk about that later.
Cause I have to introduce you to… MY GROUP!!!
I belong in the 'Homo-lovers' category.
The name says it all.
I love homos. Gays, lesbians, bi-sexuals, the people.
I once read the back of this book that said… 'Could my life be worse? My mom just announced that she is gay. Gay. With her girlfriend…'
Forget the first and the last part.
It's the middle part there.
The writer is calling a lesbian, gay.
Is that even allowed in the same-sex world?
It's like calling a bisexual a nun… or priest.
Oh wait… I'm drifting off the topic.
So the thing is… I admire and accept homosexuals.
WAIT… Now that was wrong.
I WORSHIP homosexuals.
They are my gods and goddesses. Whenever I walk past a gay guy, I always get these little sparkles in my eyes. I don't actually see them, but my too-serious-to-actually-be-a-person friend, Lis, said that.
Actually, she said that I was 'wearing the stalker gleam again. Complete with the speck of drool and never-blinking eyes.'
I like my stalking. Thanks.
Wait… since when do I stalk?
Maybe I was doing it sub-conciously.
Oh shit. I misspelled it.
Hehe. Yeah! Now that's good grammar.
I mean, good spelling.
Oi! My god! Rett Walker! Oh my fucking bitches! He's here!
I put on my stalker gleam and the speck of drool appeared at the corner of my mouth and my eyelids immediately froze.
Rett is wonderfully gay.
He came out a few weeks ago.
And I can't stop giving him longing looks every time he walks past me.
Oh my god! He's coming here!
I mean, he's walking over here!
Heart attack! That cock-sucking mouth just opened! I think I'm going to faint!
I'm stuttering. Does he notice this?
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help noticing that you were looking my way for quite some time now."
Oh my god. Is he hitting on me? That can't be right! Isn't he gay? How dare he! How dare he become straight!
He was quite taken aback by my slightly furious look. But that didn't stop him from continuing cautiously.
"Like I said… I'm sorry, but if you… umm… are harboring some interests in me… I'm afraid I have to decline."
What the hell does that mean?
" Because… you see… if you haven't heard already… I'm gay."
The G-word! It was uttered by the lovely-looking cock-sucking mouth in front of me! I could die from utter happiness!
I think I squeaked.
"Umm… are you okay?"
"NO!" I brightly squealed. "I'm not harboring any… whatever you were saying. But I'm delighted that you're talking to me! Can I ask you something very very important!?"
I say rather excitedly.
But since when is too much of anything bad?
You can never have too many slashy-lovers, homosexuals, sex and lots and lots of chocolate, right?
That is so me.
"Are you a bottom? And who's your current boyfriend? And do you know anymore gay guys in here? And how many times a day do you have sex? And what position do you prefer? And-"
"I-I… I don't have a boyfriend." The sentence was said politely. But he was talking just like when I go ballistic on other people. I mean, he talks like other people when I go crazy.
Am I making sense?
And am I not ballistic all the time?
Defeated tone. Loud wheezing from imaginary balloon.
"B-But I like this guy… It's just that he's not interested in me."
"Oh my god! You are SO cute! Who is he?"
My, my. Aren't I the bimbo?
"C-Can we continue this s-somewhere else?"
"No problem! Here's my number! Call me later, okay? 5 o'clock!"
"5-5 o'clock…O-Okay. Thanks. I have to go now."
He seems relieved.
"See ya! Bye!"
He left, curiously looking at the piece of paper in his hand.
Maybe he's freaked out by me.
I tend to do that to a lot of people.
"Gawd… that was annoying. Nice choice of friends, Lansing."
"Shut the fuck up Butthead."
"You too, bitch."
"Why, thank you."
I turned around on my heel and left.
Now that was annoying.
As you probably notice, that bastard, Battade. Jasen Battade (a.k.a. Butthead) does not fit in any of the earlier mentioned groups. He is actually a prime example of the third and last category.
The group of bitches and bastards that are so narrow-minded, their brains can actually fit through a needle hole. They don't have to necessarily be Catholic or Christian. But they're the bullies that pick on the people who aren't 'normal'.
And since when are gays and lesbians 'abnormal'?
They aren't worth living in this world.
Once I become the president of the United States, I'm going to ban all homophobic marriages and promote same-sex marriages. Fuck you Bush. I'm your alter ego and here to rule the world.
I'm going to personally wipe out all the homophobic communities, throw them into concentration camps and spray, no, pour lots and lots of bleach on them.
See if that'll hurt.
Urrrrggghhh… I HATE HOMOPHOBES…
Oh well… see ya!
Chapter 2: Meet the Homo-Phobe
What the hell did that bitch just say?
Oh hello voice in my head. Who the hell are you?
-:The voice in your head, duh.:-
Oh okay. I'll just imagine I don't have one.
So… homophobic bastard.
Sounds pretty insulting and rather cool.
But since it's directed at me. It's not. I rather prefer the 'Butthead' one than this one.
If I recall correctly, 'homophobic' means to be scared of homosexuals.
Am I scared of them?
Gays don't scare me. I scare them. Not the other way around. And besides, I already freaked off all the guys who try to hit on me… (shudders)
Not that I hate homos, but I merely, dislike them. I made the mistake of stumbling into gay club once… it was horrible. For once, I regretted my dashing good looks. Oh holy mother of god, why, why do you grant me with these handsome features?
I'm not making any sense.
"Dude. Are you going to lunch? Cause I'm starving." A toneless voice spoke up behind me. I can feel eyes rolling.
"Matin, you freaking scared me! Oh, I'm frightened!" This sarcasm. In case you didn't know.
"Pussy. If I can still recall, you, of all people, still sleep with the light on."
"I do not. Wimp."
-:Character is blanking out… beep beep beep:-
"… Jase? Are you okay?"
"That's supposed to be your cue to go… 'I'm not a fag!'" My evil evil best buddy/dude Matin Roisers sneers lightly in an amazing high-pitched voice.
"Woah… dude… you never told me you were trying out gayishness."
"Nope. Physically not possible. You can't fuck yourself off… it's logically unreasonable and damned impossible to do. Sure, you can technically fuck someone, or are you telling me to wank off?"
"Dork. Get rid of the gay-ass earring. Tiger-eyes do not match your hair."
"Look who's calling me gay-ass."
"Shut up, wanker. I never claimed to be ungay-assy."
His right eyebrow rose up. "You you're admitting you're not 'ungay-assy'? What kinda idiot uses that kinda word."
"Apparently I do. And yeah, cross my heart with a Sharpie and poke my eye with a pencil. I'm not."
"So you're saying you're gay-assy?"
"Yeah… that's what you said. Two negatives in a sentence makes a positive my friend. Do you even pay attention in Literature?"
"Urgh…" I stomp off, Matin trailed behind me amusingly. "Hey! Watch out!" I screamed. Ugh… no… shouted. Guys don't scream.
"U-ummm… I-I'm sorry… I d-didn't s-see w-where I was g-going…" A timid voice stutters from where he had accidentally elbowed me.
I turn to look at the person.
It was the Rett guy from earlier. He was fidgeting like hell, staring nervously at me, clearly afraid to break the wavering eye-contact between us, yet at the same time, scared and frightened at my, I was sure, unrelenting and emotionless glare.
"Cut it off Jase… He's almost peeing in his pants, for god's sake." Matin, who had been leaning against the lockers a few moments ago, watching us, spoke up calmly as if he said things like this everyday. "And besides…"
I twisted sharply to face him, waiting for him to finish the sentence. His face held a little amount of amusement and a cocked eyebrow, but the rest was just plain and devoid of feeling… damn ice prince.
I glanced back at where I remembered Rett was supposed to be… to notice the empty spot occupying his recently evacuated place. Damned bastard… he took advantage of my distraction with Matin to-
"You asshole!" I suddenly shouted at him. "You let him get away!"
"Woah… calm down boy… why are you so worked up over him anyway?" Matin just asked in his infuriating calm tone. "I thought you said that you weren't interested in guys?"
"Yeah. Precisely. I was going to ask him about what that Lansing was planning to do. But you had to distract me to save him so that he could get away. Nice work Prince Charming… but are you sure he's the right Cinderella?"
"I don't have a Cinderella and I certainly don't want one. I'd rather have a Cinderfellow thanks."
Oh my god…
"EEEEEEEEEEEEKK!!!! YOU'RE GAY!!!!???"
-:Very gayishnessy Jasey. My god… I love these made up words… they sound so stupid.:-
Chapter 3: Meet the School's Resident Gay
Ah… shit… Today just could be the worst day in my life…. Boohoo…
Scrambling over the annoying benches that were in the way, I quickly dashed to the little clump of trees beside the duck pond. Once I reached my little sanctuary between all the long feathery leaves and sharp twigs, I dropped my books and fell to the slightly dirty and damp floor, panting and wheezing for needed breath.
Fumbling weakly, I dug out the small little object in my pocket and raised it up to my mouth.
Yes. An inhaler.
Of all things that God had granted me, besides my obviously wrong direction down the path of sexual orientation, he had given me squeezy lungs. I quickly shot down a few sprays, still sickened by the medicinal taste of the acidic liquid. Ew…
When my coarse breathing had calmed down, I flopped myself on my back and gazed idly into the waving leaves above me.
But I didn't really see them. All I could feel, or remember, were the piercing and intense stare of those brown eyes, searing into my skin. Those killer eyes. Sigh…
Closing my eyes, I allowed this shred of imagination take me to places I've visited once or twice before in my dreams… Heaven…
Fucking god… lunch's over… fuck fuck fuck fuck…
I quickly grabbed my books and headed for Chemistry on a mad dash… Argh… of all the times to fall asleep…
Skidding to a stop right in front of the whiteboard, the late bell suddenly rang right after my terrific save from falling to the floor. I closed my eyes, my head hung low, waiting for the reprimanding rant from Mrs. Sanders… ugh… boring name. C'mon… where's punishment when you expect it?
Instead… a sole pair of hands started clapping from the silent group of peers I believed were staring at me relentlessly, waiting for the same thing I was. But the pair of hands never stopped… they were… unrushed, calm, confident… admiring.
Before I could raise my head up to look, a couple more hands started clapping too, and soon, the whole class was applauding thunderously, some good-natured jeers and whistles… I through this all, I just stood there, clasping my books tightly to myself, blushing furiously through this all…
Oh god… please kill me now…
"Mr. Walker… please… go back to your seat…" Ms. Sanders stammered out, apparently freaked out by her usually quiet class's outburst. I just nodded meekly and meandered my way through the crooked rows of desks. The other students had finally calmed down, though some guys patted me on the back and complimented things like, "Good save there…" or "Why don't you try out for the baseball team next season?"
Yeah right… you wanna see me have a coughing fit in the middle of the field?
I just thanked them softly and shyly in my usual way and made my way to my thankfully empty desk pushed to the side of the class. I sank down carefully onto the hard plastic surface of the chair and started tidying up my books and stationary.
"Nice you see you again." A sardonic voice spoke up idly behind my head.
And the devil strikes again!!!
"U-Umm… u-uh… H-hello M-Mat-t-tin…" I stutter softly, but refused to look at his face resulting in me looking out the window, turned halfway to him, halfway to the teacher, whom I was blissfully ignoring.
"Hello… uh… what's your name?" He said amicably, dropping his head down onto his folded elbows, bringing his face impossibly close to my ear.
Uuh… wait… what!?
He doesn't know my name!?
How the holy fuck did that happen!?
Oh god… (pitifully wails)
"R-Rett-tt W-Walk-ker…" I mumble softly, my stuttering worsening due to my mental anguish and humiliation… yes… humiliation and total embarrassment.
He doesn't even know my name!
"What?" He probed on, unaware of my upset look.
I cleared my throat uneasily, "R-Rett… W-Walker…" I still stutter a bit… but at least it was better.
"I can't hear you." He still pushes on. A teasing grin on his face, which to me looks terribly mocking at the moment. All this shame caused by him was distorting everything, even though my numbing mind still knows what's going on, but my body refuses to acknowledge it. Instead, the humorous smile on his face turns into a jeering leer, mortifying me to depths unknown…
…I wish I hadn't woken up at all…
"Rett Walker." I repeat bluntly to his face for the final time, my words ringing true and clear in my own ears as I turned my back towards him. Once I had fully turned a 180 from him, all the pain and hurt I was feeling earlier that was pent up in me was released out like a broken dam, showing this only to those who wanted to, and especially away from his gaze.
Chapter 4: Meet the School's Bad Boy Bully
What the fucking hell? What is wrong with that kid? Of all the nerve…
Ugh… I can't believe it… He stood up to me! A scrawny little nobody stood up to me!
And all I did was ask for his name!
"Hey kid." I hissed demandingly at his hunched back, trying to get him to turn back again.
Huh? Who said that?
Was it… the kid!?
Wait a minute… what the hell did he say? Fuf off?
Who did he think he was!? The Pope!?
"Kid. Look at me." I growled dangerously at his back. He had no right to tell me to fuck off like that. I didn't do anything bad at him at all!
"Don't bother me." Was the short reply, though choked and slightly hoarse.
"What do you mean don't bother you?" I repeated, agitated.
"I meant what I said. Don't talk to me again. Please." His body seemed to freeze after he stopped talking, his gaze fixed blankly at the whiteboard, and I noticed disappointedly that he had edged his chair away from me.
What the hell did I do?
-:Aww… poor Matin.:-
"Jase! Jase!" I hollered after the quickly retreating form in the crowds. Upon hearing my yell, the figure popped back into view, questioning eyes meeting my emblazing ones.
"Yeah? God… Mate, what happened to you?" he exclaimed, thumping me on the shoulder.
"Got pissed off… by a kid." I hissed menacingly at no one in particular.
"Woah… what did he do?" Jase asked genuinely, tugging me along down the hallway to my locker.
"You're not gonna believe it. He told me to 'Fuck off'. Right in my face." I exclaimed loudly, pausing for emphasis.
"The Rett kid."
"May his ashes be buried in the dumpster."
What am I doing?
Had I really sicced the guys on him?
Had I really done that!?
I know he was rude…. Honestly, I don't know why… maybe he just had a crappy day, even though that was no excuse to say that to me.
But then, I hadn't done anything to him, so he deserved it… did he?
After all, just saying 'fuck off' to a total stranger results in a lot of bruises and some broken bones. He deserved it.
No he didn't! He didn't challenge me or threaten me, did he? Did-
He knew it was me, Matin Roisers. Star… whatever. I'm not a star. I don't shine and glitter. I radiate sexuality and meanness… yeah, that's me.
But did he really have to be beaten up? Isn't that a bit too far? Wasn't the beating only reserved for stuck-up pricks and assholes and stupid bastards who really shouldn't live? Is he any of that!?
I guess not… but really! He deserved it! I mean… he's just looking for trouble, with that stuck up attitude and brush off… urgh…
Deserved it, my ass. His life has probably been broken down into little itty bitty pieces due to his massive injuries and the harsh beating on his dignity and pride. He'd probably come back to school, hollow, empty, a shell of what he had been, the fiery vixen you had been bantering with earlier. Even the shy quiet kid you see walking down the hallways, avoiding bullies and mean kids will be gone. He's gonna end up as a ghost, a lonesome spirit… unloved, undeserved… torn up, beaten apart… hurt, ripped.
And all because of you.
You've killed him, Mate. Admit it. Either his soul's gonna be gone, or he's suffering down in that alley, dying, lost, alone and… ooh look! Great! It's raining! Now, not only he's hurt and dying, he's also wet! Is that what he deserved for just being pissed off at you!? After all, you started it!
What did I do?
You totally ignored him, you idiot! You humiliated him, shamed him, embarrassed him, hurt him and you still call it his fault! You sick and ungrateful bastard!
The voice in my head screamed loudly at me, slapping the asshole part of me silly and added a couple of well-needed blows.
As I rose up and grabbed my rain coat, a tremendous 50-foot wave of guilt knocked me down. My throat tightened with regret, shame, guilt.
Oh no… What did I do!?
A/N: My second little idea. Hope you like it. Fortunately, the next chapter is under construction, unlike Not All Perfect.
Review, guys. Motivate me to write.