Polarizing

By Jem Morgenstern

Jason was on his bed with his arms and legs stretched to each corner. His mind was blank, he was running out of savings, he was feeling poor. His search for a job wasn’t leading him anywhere. This was due to his dwindling will to survive and his professional ineptitude. His lack of willingness and lack of respectability had always hindered his success, and he was beginning to consider putting his best foot forward in resolving those issues.

Then, the phone rang. It rang again. He thought about ignoring it, but decided it was best to see who it was before letting it go to voicemail. He pulled it from his pocket and took a look at the caller ID. It was Michael.

Michael’s calls never take less than an hour, so he went back to thinking about ignoring the call. It rang. It rang again. It rang again. It wouldn’t be long before the opportunity to make his decision would expire. He decided to answer.

“Hey, Michael.”

“Took you awhile to pick up, what are you up to?”

“Nothing much. I was just getting out of the shower. You called at just the right time.”

That was a lie, but it was believable enough.

“Cute. Well, I’m glad you’re finally picking yourself up. I can help you find a job, you know.”

“It’s fine, Michael, I can handle that on my own.”

That was a lie, and it wasn’t as believable as his last one.

“It’s been a bit.”

“I know it has. I’m still collecting myself. I’ll get around to it.”

They both knew that this topic wouldn’t bring them anywhere interesting, but neither of them were sure how to change the topic, although michael was eager to find an opportunity to swing the conversation over to the story that gave him reason to call. There was a pause.

“Well, okay. I’m always willing to help you out though, just so you know.”

“Thanks, Michael,” he realized ending his sentence here would give their conversation another stiff pause, “what’ve you been doing?”

This was the opportunity Michael needed to tell his story.

“Well, I’m just todd in my flowery, thinking about the bona cartes from the night before funting my omi-palone corybungus, slapping my eek, giving me a good zhoosh. He was dolly rough trade. I met him down over at Charlie's, where I'd downed a bit of schlump and I was getting desperate for charver or to at least plate a good chicken. Looking about the bungery, there were a few too many bijou twinks for my taste, so I was about to give up on my cottaging, but I glanced around another time and I saw him, this gorgeous hoofer with a real nice basket. Real butch though, so I got a bit worried he might be naff, which wound up to have some partial truth. I think he must’ve caught me ogling ‘cause he walked over to me as I was lost in his thews and asked me if I’m so. I let him know and then we got talking. As we settled into it, he put his famble on my lally, which always gets me stirring. Onward. He told me he’s bibi and that he’s had more experiences with palone, but the last one he was with was a vogueress and the stench put him back on omies for a time. Turned out she was a palone-omi anyway. They got on so well at first because they could cackle on about being bibi. Then, after he bumped her out ‘cause he was sick of her vogue stench stucking on his clobber, she did some more thinking on it and found she really liked the willets and clevie more than cartes in her clevie. After talking over her awhile, he told me about a barney he’d gotten in over at a bung closer to his lattie ‘cause the omi there caught onto rumours he might be blue. For some time, he stopped cruising because he was too afraid to. He’d heard about Charlie’s from a dilly boy he picked up maybe about say dooey days after the barney and so here he was. I put my yews back on his basket while we were cackling on. He was real pleased with that. He moved his stimps wider, flexed his thews, rubbed the bump on his strides. I was getting tender for some trade. He knew it too, so he invited me over to the cottage for a better view. All dally, he was. He got me a glass of vera lynn on the way and nudged me on with his luppers right on my dish. Right as we got in, we were yanking on each others’ kaffies. Finally got to see what I’d been ogling under the clobber all night. Fortuni. Frankly, maybe the single most gorgeous lucoddy that will ever grace my own. Bone as big as I like it. We went straight to it. Well, bent, I guess..."

Michael laughed with pleasure for a solid second over his own joke before he continued.

"...I was giving him some good hada, but it wasn’t long before he flipped me and bent me down for uros. We overlooked the cumdrum, but we got the candy cane wet enough to bugger easily enough. He was such a man. I never felt more like a bucket boy in my life. Though I really did enjoy it, I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed I hadn’t had more of a chance to brush my teeth. I talked myself up as an artiste and I was excited to draw the curtains and defend my claim a bit. Whatever. The browning was excellent, he gave me his number, and he wants to stick me with his butcher knife again. In the meantime, it gave me plenty to imagine while I beat off. I’m hoping to suck some cream off his cob the next time. Loved feeling it in my cheeks, but there’s not much better than letting it pop right in the oven.”

“I barely know what any of that fucking means, Michael.”

Will

By Jem Morgenstern

Will

She's so stupid. She's so fucking stupid. I'm disgusted. I really am. None of it's valid. Single mothers are in completely different situations. They have nothing to do with gay parents. She's completely biased against women because that's what her religion has told her is right and it's disgusting. She didn't even bother arguing against male gay parents. I'm sure somebody would have brought it up, if she hadn't wasted the entire half hour bashing women raising children together. Kids don't need a man to lead them. Women can be leaders. That's something that she talks about all the time. She's so active, when it comes to women's rights. How could she not trust women to raise children? Her argument is so full of holes and contradictions. She's just trying so hard to find things to backup her shitty views on gay couples. I'm so fucking pissed. She...

Michael

She's stupid, I know, you've said. She is so fucking stupid. We're still in the South.We're in fucking Texas. You're in Texas, you can't really expect much.

Will

I'm disappointed. I thought she...

Michael

She's not different. She's nice, but she's not different. She's just as bad. It's disappointing, I know, you've said that. You've said just about everything you can about this and every similar thing to have ever happened before. I know how you feel. I feel the same way, but you have to understand that it just is that way.

Will

It needs to...

Michael

Yeah, it needs to change, I know, Will, we talk about this all the time. You say the same things. I know. I want it as badly as you do. I want it to be normal. I want to talk about love without lying about who I want to love or who I do love, Will. It will change. Maybe not soon, but it will.

Will

We need to leave. I don't want to be here. I can't stand it. I really can't.

Michael

We can't leave yet. In a few more years, we will. We will, Will.

Will

We Michael, Michael.

Michael

Yep, as soon as we can.

Wilfred

By Jem Morgenstern

Janette

Wilfred is the one good thing that’s come from me. I haven’t given charitably, I haven’t helped one person selflessly, and I have never swerved or hit the brakes for a dog in the road. No, sir, I just keep driving; if they don’t get out of my way, they are going under my tires. I’ve hit too many dogs for me to count, just with the car I have now and it’s brand new. Wilfred is the one good thing that’s come from me and all I did was give birth to him. I didn’t treat him nicely, I didn’t teach him good manners, I didn’t make him a good kid; all I did was give birth to him and I hardly struggled with that one bit. The nurses there said it was the easiest birth they had ever assisted. I was only in labor for one hour: took half an hour to get to the hospital, took ten minutes to find parking, took ten more minutes to get into the room, took five minutes to get me all adjusted, then it just took him five minutes to pop out of me like a cannonball. I didn’t feel one thing when he flopped out of me; I just sat there heaving and pushing for five more minutes, until I finally caught  one of the nurses was saying, ‘Stop! You’re done! You’re done! The baby’s out! If you don’t stop pushing, you could shit all over the place’ and what happened? I shit all over the place. I looked over to the nurse and she had this face on with a frown and a sigh. That nurse had been through this too many times and she was sick of it. After it was all done, my first instinct was to just get out of the bed and walk out of the hospital. I didn’t even think about the baby. I sat up and started scooting myself off the bed and the nurses weren’t paying much attention to me, so I could have gotten myself out of there with no problem, but I started feeling all woozy and I decided it would be best to lie down for a bit. I fell asleep. Next thing I remember is the nurses waking me up to show me my baby. I kept saying, ‘No, I want to sleep’ and I slapped their hands away, but they kept insisting that I needed to wake up and hold my damn baby. I sat up, took a glance at my baby and said to them, ‘yeah, that’s great. That’s my baby, thanks.’ The nurses all rolled their eyes at me and told me to hold my damn baby. I took him in my arms and the nurse - the one who told me not to shit all over - asked me what I wanted to name it. Her voice was all monotonous and you could tell she had a long day.

Dr. Eve

Continue, what did you choose to name your baby?

Janette

You know very well what I chose to name my baby, I’ve told this story a thousand times. The only name I could think of was Wilfred because that’s the name of the dog I had when I was little and I don’t know why I was thinking of him, but I was, so I said ‘Wilfred’. The nurse asked me, ‘is that spelled with an i or an e?’ At that moment, I couldn’t believe her. Who would ever spell Wilfred with an i? I thought about that for years after that, but then I met another kid named Wilfred and he did spell it with an i. Anyway, then, after all those boring hospital procedures and formalities, I took my baby home.

Dr. Eve

Tell me about Wilfred. Why did he leave?

Janette

His father wasn’t going to be raising a fag in his house, so he kicked him out.

Dr. Eve

Have you been able to contact him since he left? When did he leave?

Janette

No, I haven’t heard from him since. He was only about thirteen, so a little more than ten years ago, I think. You know, from a very young age I should’ve known he was gay. On special occasions, we would go with his grandma to this jungle themed restaurant that had all these fancy decorations, people dressed up as jungle animals, and some chiseled high-divers in speedos. Wilfred would always want to go watch the divers. I’d always be talking about crushes I had on celebrities like Keith Urban and Toby Keith and Wilfred would say to me ‘those boys are ugly. Why don’t you like cute boys like Duncan Sheik or Gavin Rossdale?’ That kid knew what he was talking about. He always did. I should have known that it was coming. When he told me and his father that he was gay, I didn’t really care. I was fine with it. I didn’t care what he did, as long as it didn’t cause any trouble for me. His dad, on the other hand, did care. His dad was furious. He told Wilfred to leave the house. I didn’t do anything about it. Wilfred left and I didn’t say anything to him. I watched him pause at the door and stare at the knob for a good while. He was thinking. He knew that he would never be coming back, if he left. He knew that he could be hurt bad, if he stayed. He left. He didn’t have anything to stay for. I didn’t give him anything to stay for.

Dr. Eve

Would you like to see him again?

Janette

More than anything.