Join us every Thursday for another short story from a Kossack with a tale to tell, fact or fiction. One which will both inform and entertain.
And join us on Mondays at 5pm Pacific for poetry from the left where we scream our dissatisfaction with the status quo in verse or worse.
The best laid plans of mice and men...
I wanted to write something completely original and new for this, but life got in the way. You know how it is...
So, instead you will get some excepts from a novel I am working on. I'm still toying with the voice and plot details, so descriptive details are still a little sparce. The basic plot involves a guy who is sucked into a job as a companion for lonely elderly people. Through this he learns a little about this, gets sucked into a mystery, and maybe finds a love interest.
So if you will indulge me...off we go past the fold. Hope you enjoy the pieces...
Somtimes I feel like I'm the star of God's sitcom. Not just any sitcom, but one of those insane 80's pilots that never got picked up because it was too strange a concept. I think God just loves to sit back and watch me lose my head in the craziness.
Not to say I'm completely not at fault. I made my bed, and I have to lie in it. That doesn’t mean I won’t wash the sheets from time to time. Always good to lay a fresh set.
If I’ve lost you, it is perfectly ok . I’ve been pretty lost myself. The good thing about being lost is you can be found…but I’m getting ahead of myself.
I’m not one of those people who can start at the beginning, just because I’m not sure exactly where the story starts. I could start telling you about my earliest memories, but I don’t want to really bore you with things that are not important to the story. I’ll try to stay on track, but I’m sure I’ll have to backtrack because I’m always forgetting something.
So anyway…the best place for me to start would have to be the morning after I lost my job. I had a great job, but the new district manager was a wee bit of a dick. He claimed to be a born-again Christian, but I think he forgot to finish getting born as his head seemed to be firmly up his ass. Anyway, my boyfriend at the time decided to call the store and complain that I wasn’t coming home. It was inventory for heaven’s sake…you can’t just leave on a whim until finished. Well, Rick just didn’t get the hint, so he called over, and over, and over. When the DM got there to review the numbers, Rick called 17 times in 30 minutes. So, of course, because of this the DM found out I was gay. The reaction was just lovely. Even though the inventory numbers were normal, he decided to fire me because they weren’t…quote…up to standard…unquote.
Rick handled the news with grace. By which I mean he was gone before I woke up in the morning. It takes some grace to pack up your things, and most of my jewelry, as well as clean out my bank account, all without waking me up. I discovered he was gone because of the shoe polish on my kitchen floor. Not only did he leave me a lovely message saying “Goodbye broke-ass. I never loved you” or something to that effect, but he killed any chance for me to get my deposit back.
So, what does a broke queer do when his lover leaves him and he barely has enough gas to get him to the next corner? Well, this broke queer begs his Aunt Libby for money.
Aunt Libby burned through men, but didn’t burn through the money they left for her. In her youth, she was a figure of beauty, but not a shrinking violet. She is still very intense in her advanced age, so much so that few people from the family will visit her in the retirement community. She doesn’t pull punches, she would just punch you in the stomach instead. I loved her low tolerance for bullshit and her amazingly accurate bullshit detector. I wish I had the ability to sniff out half as much BS as she does.
Anyway, Aunt Libby never gives out money freely. She always needs to belittle you and make you feel even worse than you already do. Most people don’t understand why she does this, but I figured it out. She drags you lower so you can realize your mistake and hopefully not make it again. When you hit rock bottom, you can only look up.
Anyway, when I called her she acted like she was disappointed I called, but I could tell she was happy underneath the biting commentary.
Later on after dinner with Aunt Libby
Of course, after all that Aunt Libby got me enough to keep the apartment for a few months. She does care, even if she has a talent for sucking the little self-confidence I have left when I come crawling for help.
Anyway, after leaving the building, I heard a man say, "If you are desperate for money, I got a job for you." I look to the left and see a muscular man smoking a cigar. He looks to be only in his early 40's, but I found out later he was in his 60's. His eyes were an intense blue that pierced me like an icicle. “I have a business and it looked to me you have the talents I need. Anyone who can sit that long with a woman like Libby has a talent I sorely need.”
“What kind of business is it?”
“I provide a service to people of advance age, especially ones where the family has thrown them aside. Not all elderly people are shoved in retirement homes, you know. Some are just ignored in their own homes. The families either don’t care, or are too busy with their own concerns to care.”
“That sound expoitive…thanks but no thanks.”
“It isn’t exploitive. You aren’t doing anything but keeping them company and giving them some human interaction. You are bringing them a little bit of joy to their lonely lives.”
“Still sounds exploitive. Thanks, but I’ll find another job.”
“C’mon. This is easy work. You will get 80% of the fees charged. All you have to do is be their companion for a little while.”
“Like a prostitute...Yeah. Thanks but no thanks.”
“Please…You are a queer. I’m sure you’ve slept with someone for money or gifts before. I know I used to…even did porn for awhile in the late 70’s and early 80’s. The beauty part is…you are a companion with no sex.”
“Still makes me feel weird. Let me think about it.”
Just a couple of scenes...let me know what you think.