A/N: This little piece is directed towards my 'Stop Stalking Me' readers, who've waited an incredibly long time for an update. This is about 90% dialogue, so if you're not particularly interested in works that are purely dialogue or practically purely dialogue, this might not be for you. If you are however, please enjoy.
21 Conversations with a Sexual Deviant
Eli Masterson had finally been convinced to move to Massachusetts by his sister. He'd always been a New York City man, all about bright lights, beautiful women, fast cars, and a perpetual fear of ever crossing the street. Yet now, Eli was living in a pastel colored suburb, filled to the brim with happy, morbidly obese squirrels, twisted trees with tire swings and of course, noisy, snot-nosed children chasing after an ice cream truck. Just what he always wanted.
Sweat dripping from his brow, Eli struggled to lift his glass coffee table off of his truck bed. His muscles strained with effort, but if he could just hold it for a little bit longer, he could drop two of the legs down and push the table the rest of the way.
"That's it, that's it. Just a little bit more…"
With a scream, Eli jumped, successfully dropping his glass coffee table and causing it to crash into hundreds of small, glittering little pieces.
He stared at it.
"Oh my… It looks like your coffee table's broken. It was so nice too. That's a real shame," the same voice murmured sorrowfully. "Oh well though, I'm Timothy, your neighbor. It's nice to meet you!"
Eli simply turned towards the voice, only to see large green eyes staring directly back at him. Timothy, or so he said his name was, was standing right next to him with a grin on his face, a bright pink lollipop in his hand. His hair was a bright, bubblegum pink that was arranged in a feathery mowhawk. He wore neon pink leopard skinny jeans and a white t-shirt which Eli believed depicted a giant smiling rainbow holding a teapot. Timothy had to be about 15 or 16.
Had Timothy not been a child, Eli was veritably sure he would have picked up one of larger pieces of his coffee table and cut his throat with it.
Forcing a smile, Eli held out his hand and took a step away from the individual who had caused him to break his coffee table and seemed to want to invade his personal space. "Pleasure to meet you, Timothy," the 27 year old said with about as much forced cheer as he could manage.
Timothy did not shake his hand, but instead sniffed at his neck with a moan. "You smell like a delicious trash bin of sexual desire."
"Ok then Timothy, I think this is the last time we'll ever be speaking to one another ever, ever again. Thank you and goodbye now."
Eli then slowly backed away and walked into his house before smelling his armpits. He hadn't showered since yesterday, but he thought no one would have noticed. Looking out the window, he saw Timothy picking up a piece of broken glass and licking it provocatively.
Yep, moving here was a mistake.
Two weeks after the Timothy incident, Eli left the house to meet his sister at lunch only to find the boy sitting on his porch.
"...Hello. Why are you on my porch?"
"I got some gum at the grocery store, I was wondering if you wanted any."
"That's very, very kind of you but, no thank you I'm about to go have lunch."
"Oh that's alright, I didn't really want you to eat it, I thought maybe we could just make out with one another and pass it around."
"Do you like cherry flavored gum or watermelon?"
"Timothy, if you don't get off of my porch right now I will call the police," Eli deadpanned.
"Handcuffs, eh? Naughty."
The Bird Bath
The third time Eli encountered Timothy was in his own back yard.
"Timothy, you know part of me really doesn't even want to ask, but why are you in my bird bath, naked?"
"I'm not naked actually, I'm wearing my boxers."
"Oh well that's a relief-"
"I can take them off though if you want, but I don't think the both of us can fit in here. But maybe if you sat directly on top of me-"
The glass door slammed.
Timothy pouted. "You know, that sort of recklessness is the exact reason why your coffee table was broken!"
On a rainy day in October, Eli met Nicole. She was beautiful and self-assured with an up and coming salon she ran with her sister. Her eyes were like molten chocolate and her equally brown hair was full and lush, feeling like heaven in between his fingers.
Sadly, he didn't have the foresight to go to her place instead of his.
"I usually don't do this," she clarified before she hungrily devouring his mouth with her own.
"Neither do I," Eli panted as he broke the kiss, forcing his key into the lock.
Nicole smiled, before grabbing his face as the door swung open.
"Oh my God! Why is there a naked child lying on your couch?"
"No! Ok, wait I can explain. That's my neighbor alright?"
"Oh, alright so that makes your clear pedophilia ok?"
"No! I mean, he's crazy!"
"He means that I'm crazy about him, you hair-dying hussy. Now Eli, we've run out of lube, so I hope you're alright with peanut butter with honey. In retrospect, I feel like everything will taste better," Timothy supplied before dipping his finger in the peanut butter jar and licking it clean, slowly and sensuously.
"Ow! Nicole, what was that for?" Eli demanded, rubbing his sore shoulder where a heavy purse had just hit him.
"You are disgusting!"
"No, wait! Nicole! Come back! I can explain. Please! I-he's- you! For God's sake he's insane; no one would use peanut butter as lubricant!"
His words seemed to only further push the nail into the coffin.
Expletives and Explanations
Eli was taking out the garbage the next time he saw Timothy.
"You know what? I'm not even going to ask why the hell you're in my trash can right now, because I just don't care anymore, alright? I don't care! I don't want to play your sick little game, ok? So listen to me and I want you to listen very, very closely, ok?"
"No matter how many times you show up in my bird bath naked, on my couch naked, on my porch naked, in the grass naked, dry-humping my goddamn garden gnomes naked, I will never ever like you! You know why, Timothy? Because I don't like men!"
"I like women. I like breasts! I like huge gargantuan breasts; fake ones, real ones, it's all the same to me. I like to put them in my mouth and suck on them, alright? I like titties. I like titties a lot. You know another thing I like? Vaginas. Wonderful, wonderful vaginas. So, if you don't have a vagina, I'm never, ever going to have sex with you, ok? Ok?!"
"Hey, Eli…I was uh, wondering if I could maybe borrow some eggs, my wife's baking my son's birthday cake and uh…no eggs…but if you wanna maybe keep talkin' to that trash can that's cool too. I mean, I like vaginas, so yeah…"
"No, it's ok, Bob. Let me grab those eggs for you. I've just realized this trashcan I've been talking to has its iPod in its ears. Hasn't heard a word I've been saying. Yep, I'll go get you some eggs and then I'm just gonna sob, I'm gonna sob into my pillow until I'm dead.
"Ok, long as the eggs get in there," Bob laughed nervously.
Timothy popped his head out of the trash can. "I honestly have not been naked in over half the places he just listed right now. Show's how much he pays attention. Oh and Bob, all the eggs he has are brown, make sure that's right for the recipe.
Bob, lovely man that he was, just stared.
Talking to Mother
Eli simply couldn't take it anymore after watching the moving van roll away with Bob's likely terrified family inside. He decided that he should speak to the woman who had born the bane of his existence and force her to do something about her child.
He rang the doorbell.
Timothy's mother answered. "Oh hullo, you're from next door aren't you? Pleasure to meet you, I'm Dina and you are?"
"Eli, I'm your neighbor, Eli, the one your bastard child has been harassing for nearly two months. He keeps showing up at my house, naked. He's scared away a woman I wanted to have sex with and he's made some of our neighbors move away. You need to do something, or I will call the bloody police and watch them drag your son across the yard in a straightjacket. Do we have an understanding?"
Apparently they didn't, because the next thing Eli knew, he had a black eye.
It was Halloween and Eli was sneering. He hated Halloween. He hated children. He hated people who knocked on his door and asked for things. He hated candy. There was really nothing about this holiday he liked, except that ugly people were forced to wear masks.
His doorbell rang. He ignored it. It rang again. He ignored it. It rang twenty more times. He thought about stabbing the person on the other side as he pulled upon the door.
"What the fuck are you supposed to be?" he snapped at Timothy.
"Your anus. See, I'm inside of it. Get it?"
Eli slammed the door closed and ripped out the doorbell wires for good measure.
"Do you not like it? I made you one too… I'll just leave it on the porch."
Eli had given up and decided to sell his house so that he might be free of Timothy. He'd called his real estate agent and best friend, Arnold, to check on the house while he was at work, because for some reason, he wasn't getting any calls about the listing.
"Yeah…I think I've figured out why the house isn't selling."
"Why? It's in great condition and only I know about the crazy neighbor."
"Uh, are you sure about that?" Arnold asked.
"Yes, I'm fucking sure! Why, did someone come to pick up a flyer while he was there?"
"Well, no, no one has come to pick up a flyer all day since I've been here, but that might be because the kid literally jizzed in the document holder and has been performing a strip show on the sign post for the last hour and a half. I'd turn my face away, but I'm honestly too amazed by what I'm seeing."
"Should we put this on YouTube?" Arnold asked after a long moment.
Eli slammed himself in the head with his cell phone.
Yet Another "Date"
"You want me to do what?" Eli's sister asked incredulously, looking at him as if he were insane.
Eli gave a loud sigh as he slammed his coffee cup down, meriting strange looks from the people all around them. "How many times do you want me to repeat this? I need you to pretend to go on a date with me to get this freaky little kid off my back."
"Michelle, I wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't desperate. For God's sake, the kid jacked off in a document holder to force me to stay there. He's insane!" The desperate man exclaimed, pulling at his own hair.
Michelle sighed. "Alright, I'll do it, but just so you know I think this is really weird. Like Freudian weird."
Frankly, Eli didn't give a shit because he was so happy to finally, finally have come up with the perfect plan to get rid of Timothy. "Thank you, Michelle. Really, I mean it. Now I need you to change into this so he thinks you gave me a blowjob in the back of the car."
"Is this a stripper's dress?"
"No, it's a hooker's."
Eli made sure he looked beyond intoxicated as he twirled his sister across his yard, laughing loudly in the hopes of attracting Timothy. That was to say, if Timothy wasn't already running around naked rubbing Eli's cranberry jelly all over himself, because yes, he had done that already.
"Oh baby," the man exclaimed loudly. "You make me so hot, I can't wait to get you out of those clothes, again."
"This is disgusting," Michelle hissed as her brother grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer.
Eli stepped on her foot and she gave a little shriek. "Shut up, we have to make this look real if we want this to work," he hissed.
Michelle rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah sugar bear, I know how much you like those golden showers. Get that door open and let me douse you!"
"Fuck you, that was one time in high school and I told you I regretted it," Eli growled before he approached the door and pushed Michelle inside. "Just so you know," he yelled loudly. "I have a psychotic neighbor that wants me to fuck him. Is that ok?"
"Long as you're wearing a glove, there'll always be enough of Sherry to love." Michelle winked.
The door slammed closed behind them.
"That was the most ridiculous line I've ever heard."
"Well I wanted to say that all that mattered to me was your huge donkey dick, but I changed your diaper once and unless something has drastically changed..."
"Shut the fuck up."
Michelle piled into her car after her brother had forced her to stay over at his house for two hours and make monkey noises while jumping on his bed. She was tired and her hooker dress smelled funny. She put her keys into the ignition and looked up, only to see a kid with pink hair in front of her car.
Eli looked at his phone for the fiftieth time in the last hour. Michelle must have been home by now, so why hadn't she called. What if? What if that deranged fucker next door hadn't just tried to scare her off, what if he killed her? What if he was dancing in his sisters remains to the lasted pop song and daydreaming about ripping his clothes off?
His phone rang and he had never felt so relieved.
"Oh God, Michelle, I was so scared…"
"You should be ashamed of yourself."
Eli frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I talked to the kid when I was leaving and he asked me if we were actually a serious couple. Poor little thing, he was crying. He really likes you, you know. I think he just has problems expressing himself, but despite the weird clothes and the hair, he seems like a nice kid. You should stop talking to him like he's a dog and just talk to the kid."
There was an awkward pause.
"You…You're… Judas! You Judas!"
He hung up on her and firmly decided that he would never talk to his sister ever again or at least until it was her birthday.
Two weeks after the failed date incident and a week after receiving a calendar in which Timothy dressed as different "sexy" fruits and vegetables, Eli woke up sick. He was miserable and feverish and was barely able to pick up his phone to take off from work, but somehow he found the strength and then he promptly passed out for six hours.
At the sixth hour, he felt something cool against his forehand and woke up.
"Why are you here?" Eli croaked out.
Timothy, fully decked out in a frilly candy striper dress, with the back cut out to show his ass giggled. "I'm taking care of you, silly. That's what people who are in love do."
"We're not in love."
Grinning from ear to ear, Timothy pulled out a thermometer. "Fine, we're in lust. Now roll over so I can take your temperature the old fashioned way."
There was nothing to do other than sob.
In Which the Police Are Involved
When Eli woke up from his sickness and felt distinctly uncomfortable, he decided that he wasn't going to play this sick game anymore. It was time to get rid of Timothy permanently.
That was to say, he called the police and demanded that an officer, if not the whole damned department, come down and talk to his neighbor about boundaries.
Upon Officer McDuffy's arrival, however, Timothy had acquired a whole new look.
"Is this some kind of joke, sir?" the officer asked, not in the least bit amused.
"He didn't…He wasn't dressed like this all the times before!" Eli spluttered.
Timothy gave a sigh as he pressed his hand to his chest as if hurt. "I just don't understand these accusations, officer. Why would I, a future man of the cloth, be attempting to molest an older man?"
That's right. Timothy was dressed up as a priest. Or well, a priest in training.
The cop glared at Eli. "I hope you realize there's a fine for false reports."
The only thing that Eli could do was pay it.
"God be with you, young man."
The Ice Cream Truck
After the cop incident, Eli didn't see Timothy for awhile and so he assumed that his life was finally going back to normal. He went Christmas shopping for Michelle and his parents before he came home to settle down with a nice mug of cocoa and some chocolate chip cookies. Even he could admit that there were a few benefits to domestic living.
The sound of an ice cream truck kept him out of his revelry though and he rose from his chair. "The fuck kind of ice cream truck runs on Christmas Eve?" He gazed out of the window and nearly dropped his mug from shock. Timothy was driving the ice cream truck…and waving at him.
Pulling the curtain closed, he wondered if he could just slip down to the basement and hide there until morning, but he had tried that before and only came back from hiding to find pictures of penises stapled to the walls. Better to face it head on.
He went outside and stood in front of the truck. "Do I even want to ask?"
"I got a job for Christmas! I'm the ice cream man!" Timothy said excitedly, his bubble gum pink hair poking out from underneath his pristine white hat.
"Well I don't want any ice cream, so what are you doing in front of my house?"
"Silly, it's nearly Christmas so I wanted to get you a present. Look at number 38."
He was afraid, but he had to know. Immediately, he wished he hadn't looked. "Timothy, that is not appropriate. For the hundredth time, what you're doing is not appropriate!"
Timothy looked confused, even as he sucked on his ice cream bar. "Why?"
"You can't name a penis shamed ice cream bar with coconut filling, the "Eli Special." But Timothy already had and Eli had to walk away before he ordered an ice cream cone to stab Timothy in the face with.
"You know," the pink haired boy called after him. "They're actually selling very well."
The New Year had come and gone and perhaps Eli was being stupid, but he assumed that Timothy would just move on after being continuously rejected. He hadn't seen the pink haired little fucker since the ice cream truck incident, although he did come home to find the "Eli Special" in his freezer the day after Christmas. So when his doorbell rang, he didn't expect the worst. But there he was.
"Hello!" Timothy grinned.
"Do you know who I am?" The pink haired boy questioned, separating his fingers.
"You're Spock. Why are you dressed up as Spock?"
Literally twirling in excitement, Timothy wiggled his Vulcan eyebrows. "There's a convention in town and I'm going with my mom. We both love the show. She's going as Nurse Chapel."
"And why are you telling me this?"
Timothy made a serious face as he came further into Eli's personal space. "Captain Kirk, I have entered into Pon Farr, the Vulcan mating cycle. I must mate or I will have to yield to my primal urges and die. I require your sexual assistance to continue on as First Officer. If I may, it is your penis that I require."
"Timothy, if you do not get away from me I will tase you. I will tase you and I will enjoy it immensely."
"Is it set to kill, stud?"
He was sitting at his computer at work when a pop up window appeared. He tried closing it, but the x button just made more and more appear, so he was forced to accept the window. An ad for a new social networking site using avatars appeared. The graphics were actually impressive and Eli was bored, so he decided to click on the demo.
His friend, Carter came up behind him. "What are you looking at?"
"Don't know. It's some new site that's up I guess. I think it's for social networking. I'm gonna check out the demo until I get the files back that I need, care to take a look with me?" Carter shrugged and Eli pressed play.
"Dude…that looks like you. Oh my God…Oh my God, are you, are you fucking that little pink haired kid? Jesus, you've got him twisted up like a pretzel! Are you…Dude, you are licking his ass crack from the front?!"
Eli closed his laptop. "I can…explain…"
"Dude! What was that site called? It was totally personalized! I'm gonna see what it brings up for me!" Carter ran over to his own desk.
Well, that went better than he thought it would.
The Business Proposal
Something had to be done. Eli couldn't risk Timothy ruining his life anymore. He couldn't move, he couldn't date, and now he wasn't even safe at work! There had to be something, anything that he could do to make the weirdo leave him alone. He just couldn't figure out how on his own, so he called Arnold to help him.
"I'm not sure how much I can help you considering I've actually seen the kid's balls, Eli." Arnold was laughing despite his apologetic tone.
Glaring, Eli leaned closer across the table. "Look Arnold, I'm desperate. The kid named an ice cream cone shaped like a penis after me and then he sends me a link on the internet where our two avatars have sex! This has to stop and I'm drained. I've yelled, I've cried, I've begged. Nothing fazes this kid."
Arnold frowned. "Wait, he can drive a public vehicle and registered for a site online? Eli, I'm not sure he's a kid. I mean, sure if he was sixteen he could have a permit, but in order to drive a commercial vehicle he has to be at least eighteen."
His heart began to race. If Timothy wasn't a kid, then he could deal with him the old fashioned way, which meant that Eli could break his nose and get away with it. "I just always assumed he was a kid. I mean, you saw him, he's so small. He's like a little elf child."
"I can find out for you. I know a guy who's a private detective; he can find this shit out easy. But, it's gonna cost you a little bit. You know my wife's ugly sister?"
"Oh no," Eli groaned.
"Oh yes," Arnold said with a grin. "You're going to have to take her and the fungus on the top of her feet, and her giant mole out on a fabulous date in which you are going to pay for a gluten free, hypoallergenic, vegan meal. Avery expensive gluten free, hypoallergenic, vegan meal."
"Why do that when I can take Timothy home for free?"
Arnold took a big bite of his chocolate soufflé. "Because ugly or not, Martha won't kill you while you're sleeping."
The files were printing on Eli's desk and the man stared at them as he took a long drag from his cigarette. Finding out the truth about his neighbor, the truth that could literally set him free, had made him nervous and so he'd picked up the old habit again. The slender stick fit perfectly between his fingers as he took another deep breath. At last, the final paper rolled out of the machine. He picked up the pages as he tipped the ash of his cig into the trashcan. His chest seemed as if it might explode as his eyes roamed over the document.
Timothy was twenty-one and Eli saw red.
Storming out of his house, Eli sneered as he saw the pink haired boy out on his lawn in a squirrel suit, jutting his hip out suggestively. "So I've noticed that you've been able to resist all of my previous advances, that's alright, because I've finally realized what makes you tick. You're into furries, right? And well, if you like the real thing, I've got a real squirrel in my bag and it's ready and willing to be put into all sorts of places."
All that was placed in anything was Eli's fist into Timothy's eye. The boy yelled out as he fell backwards, grabbing at the stricken area with a look of fear and bewilderment on his face.
"You can stick that squirrel up your own ass, you little fucker!" Eli shook the papers into Timothy's face. "I know you're not a kid. This entire time you've had me played, made me think that there wasn't anything that I could do to get rid of you because if I touched you, I'd be assaulting a minor. Well get the fuck up, bitch, cause it's on!"
The man that had made Eli's life a living hell for almost a yearr made no efforts to get up, but simply looked up at Eli in fear. For some reason that he couldn't explain, that just made the older man angrier. "Come on, get up! You have humiliated me and made my life a total hell from the day I met you." Angry tears streaked down Eli's face. "You tried to take all the power that I had away and I'm going to make you pay for it, so get up. Get up!"
Struggling, Timothy made it to his feet, but instead of facing the man he had stalked for nearly a year, he ran. He ran and he did not look back. Eli watched him, speechless, until he gazed down at the papers. "I won," he we said in slight awe. "I won." Wiping the tears from his eyes, he went back inside of his house, cigarette and papers in hand.
The Last Conversation
Several weeks had gone by and there had not been one sighting of Timothy. Once, he had seen the boy—no, man's—mother, but she had simply given him a cold look and gotten into her car. His life was back to normal, there was no weird deviant kid following him around anymore. He came home, watched some television, got ready for the next day and then he went to bed, nothing exciting and no one was naked. Rubbing a hand over his face, he yawned. His life was boring, but it was better. Wasn't it?
There was a knock at the door and when he answered, Timothy was there but it was not the Timothy he knew. This man had dark hair that fell across his face in soft curls and was wearing a completely normal black v-neck sweater and jeans that were a little too large. There was no makeup, no jewelry, and no animal print or rainbow anything; there was just a man who wouldn't look him in the eye.
"Hi. I know, I know you don't want me here but I just came to say…to say I'm sorry. I know you hate me, but I just wanted to explain myself." The young man took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest like he wanted to protect himself. "I have-had, I guess, a social anxiety disorder. I couldn't talk to people like everyone else seems to. It was like, every time I tried to open my mouth, nothing would come out and I just couldn't connect to people."
Tears had begun to trickle from Timothy's eyes. "My mom tried everything, but eventually there wasn't anything she could do, so she kept me home and away from everybody else. But then I learned a way to connect to people and maybe I shouldn't have learned to use it the way I have but, I've seen people use sex as a way to communicate and be close to people. I thought maybe I could do that too and I thought since you were new, since you didn't know me as the kid that was all kinds of fucked up, maybe you could like me."
He coughed as he wept. "I knew it wasn't the best relationship, but at least it was something, the first substantial something that I've ever had. And talking to you made me brave enough to talk to other people and I was scared to let that go, so I wouldn't let you leave or push me away and now you hate me for that. But I'm sorry. I really am, Eli. I'm sorry."
"You really expect me to believe that?"
Smiling sadly, Timothy shook his head. "No, but I had to say it and I promise I'll never bother you again." He stepped off the porch and stuck his hands into his pockets. "But if it means anything, I never lied to you about my age. You never asked and if you had, than you wouldn't have had to hire someone to know the truth."
And that was the last time Eli spoke to a sexual deviant.
And the Facts were…
Michael Priss was an asshole and he had been arrested about eight years ago for physical abuse to his wife and his son. The majority of the abuse was performed on the child, which included both beatings and long periods of isolation, in which the boy was not allowed to receive contact from his mother or any form of sustenance other than water. Priss' son was also suspected of suffering from sexual trauma, not at the hands of his own father, but of his uncle who had a record of inappropriate conduct with minors.
Priss' arrest inevitably stemmed from concern on part of the state that his son did not have any school records from independent home school programs or otherwise. Additionally, during yearly doctor visits, the young boy's doctors grew increasingly concerned with his lack of any sort of social prowess and he was referred to a psychiatrist who prescribed medication for social anxiety and inevitably became a key witness in the trial after the boy confessed the abuse to him.
That boy's name was Timothy Priss and he currently lived with his mother at 443 Sweeton Road, right next door.
Ashamed, Eli covered his face. He couldn't look at the papers anymore.
Timothy was just a kid after all, a really hurt kid who used the only other way someone had connected with him as a tool to develop relationships with others. He should have listened to him when he came to the door… He should have tried to talk to his mother rather than yell at her. He should have done and shouldn't have done a lot of things.
Michelle had said there was more to it, to Timothy, than what he was seeing but he had ignored her. Cursing her empathetic nature, he had even cut contact with her for a week. Not even for a moment had he even considered what she had said and now…
"What the fuck am I gonna do?"
To Timothy, an Understanding
Biting his lower lip, Timothy slowly tied his laces on the bottom of the stairs. His mother passed by and shot a concerned look his way but said nothing. She'd been doing that a lot lately, ever since he'd dyed his hair back to its original color and had shoved all of his colorful clothes into a box underneath his bed. That stupid shrink had said he should dress in a way that showed his personality if he found it hard to communicate with others but it hadn't worked. Nothing had changed…
Placing the white triangular cap on his head, the somber man prepared to go to work driving the ice cream truck. Today might be his last day. His confidence was shaken, after Eli and after avoiding looking at the mirror every day to keep from seeing a black eye that took him back to horrible places. Timothy wasn't sure if he liked having to talk to little kids about what ice cream bar or cone they wanted anymore. He wasn't sure if he liked talking to anyone.
Sighing, he approached the truck…only to see a piece of paper taped in front of the crossed out 38 special. Wary now, he shot a look towards Eli's house but the man didn't seem to be there, judging by the lack of a car in the driveway and the fact that all of the window curtains were closed. Maybe it was just nothing, he thought, but found that his hands shook as he picked it up anyway.
When I first met you, you broke my favorite coffee table and said something about my smelling like a sexual trashcan. And then you were everywhere, on my porch, in my birdbath, on my couch, in my trashcan. It seemed like nothing would ever get rid of you. Not when I went out on a date with my sister or when I tried to move away. No matter what I did, you'd show up, even if you were dressed up as an anus or a squirrel or Spock or the ice cream man, or even a priest. Shit, you even showed up on my laptop. But I never asked why, I never really talked to you and I never saw the good.
No one's taken care of me when I was sick since I was in middle school and even though I can't say I appreciated the dress…It was…
There were so many things crossed out and erased that Timothy could barely read what was there, but only one word mattered anyway.
Now I want to talk about the last time you came to my house with a costume on, the one of the boy with dark hair that trudges around and doesn't smile half as brightly. I know you're more creative than that, you suggested peanut butter as lube. Peanut butter, man. Who thinks of shit like that? So what's up with this new look that's so basic, so far from extraordinary? It's not you and if this is my fault, then I have to apologize because I didn't think I'd punch the creativity right out of your eye, and I'm sorry for hitting you. I'm sorry anyone has ever hit you.
Maybe it's fucked up. Maybe I'm fucked up, but I'll just say it. My life is boring. You made it worthwhile and gave me stories upon stories to tell. I want to be able to tell more. I miss you, kid. And I'm sorry.
On another note, if you do decide to come and bother me again, I swear I'll talk to you this time. Really talk to you, the way I should have all along.
But I will always prefer vaginas.
He had heard of people crying and laughing at the same time, but he had always only participated in one or other. Now he was doing both so hard that his jaw hurt from laughing too hard and his head hurt from the intensity of his tears. The house next door beckoned towards him and he folded the note in his pocket before throwing his cap to the floor. The kids could wait.
"You know, this "Eli Special" isn't half bad," a voice sounded from behind him and Timothy jumped to see Eli leaning out of the window of his truck, a half eaten "Eli Special" dripping in his hands. The man gave it a slow suggestive lick, dragging his tongue up from the balls to the end of the shaft. "Is my penis made of caramel?"
More tears dripped down from his face. "Yes, it's my favorite."
Eli raised a brow. "Really? Mine too."
"You really shouldn't do that, you know?" Eli said in irritation.
Timothy looked up in surprise, his now blonde hair with pink streaks sweeping along his forehead. "Why? I thought you liked it?"
"Why would anyone like their guest to sit on the floor rather than the couch?"
Shrugging, Timothy grinned as he pulled at his knees until his legs were crossed. "I like the floor. I like it on the floor too," he murmured suggestively.
Rolling his eyes, Eli gave the younger man a tap on the head before he plopped down onto his couch, popcorn in hand. "Shut up and turn on the movie, you little asshole."
While Timothy was distracted, Eli pulled out a gift wrapped box from underneath the couch cushion. He tapped the youth with it.
"What's this? It's not my birthday, it passed already."
"I know it's not your birthday. It's our anniversary. Today is the first day I met you. It's also the anniversary of my coffee table's death."
Timothy sighed. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"
Very carefully, the blonde boy started to unwrap the present. "It was ugly anyway," he muttered. Finally free of the wrapping, he stared down at his gift. "Thanks?"
"No problem, you go crazy with that. It'll make all of your sexual exploits taste better."
Timothy stared down at the tub of peanut butter. "You mean it'll make all of our sexual exploits taste better? It is our anniversary," he purred seductively.
"Not unless you have a vagina," Eli said impassively.
"Well how do you know you don't like men unless you try to be with one?"
"Shut the fuck up, Timothy."
"You know you like it."
Even though he probably shouldn't have, Eli smiled.