I was trying to help Blake weed out his less-than-stellar associates.
BLAKE: This is the guy I hook up with on Wednesdays.
Okay, maybe my wording was a little fancy.
ME: Why only on Thursdays?
BLAKE: That's when his girlfriend visits her dying mother.
ME: I'm not even going to touch that one.
After we went through his Facebook, the next step was to help him evaluate who he spends time with on a regular basis.
I had him print out photos of all his friends and write down how he feels about them next to their pictures.
ME: Why does this photo have 'hot hot hot' next to it?
BLAKE: Um, are you not looking at him?
ME: I wanted actual personality traits, Blake.
BLAKE: So I should have written 'yummy?'
ME: Do you know anything about any of these people?
Silence.
BLAKE: I know most of their first names.
It was time to raise Blake's expectation.
ME: This is going to be fun.
BLAKE: Really?
ME: Of course not, but we're going to do it anyway.
Sometimes life is like an episode of Clean House--and you just need to do a yard sale.
ME: Does that person contribute anything to your life?
BLAKE: Tons.
ME: Aside from sex and booze?
BLAKE: Okay, nothing.
ME: Then they're out.
By the time we were done, Blake had one photo left.
BLAKE: But this is your photo.
ME: And you wrote 'lame dumb poop' on it.
BLAKE: I didn't think you'd actually read that...
ME: It's okay. I've been called worse.
It looks like it's time to get Blake new friends.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Thou Shalt Play Nice
It was the first time I was having all the boys sit down to dinner together.
BLAKE: This is just like the Housewives reunion!
I should have known better.
I thought maybe they could all get to know each other better, and help become a support system for each other.
BOWIE: Before we begin, is this twinkie high?
BOONE: Yo, I'm not a twinkie. I'm straight.
BOWIE: Of course you are, you're not the cute one.
Byron was looking uncomfortable. I told everyone that he was also straight, and was just looking for ways to become more open.
BOWIE: You want to be open?
BYRON: Um, yes.
BOWIE: I think I can help with that.
ME: Down, Bowie.
BLAKE: Oh my God! Your name is Bowie? That's wicked Gossip Girl.
BOWIE: Are you even a person?
Blake looked like he'd been slapped--which, he pretty much was.
BOONE: Why don't you back off?
BOWIE: Why don't you talk less?
BYRON: You know, I probably shouldn't even be here.
BLAKE: Um, I'm totally a person.
BOWIE: Why do you have two straights in this experiment? Isn't one token enough?
I could see it was a mistake to bring a pork chop (Byron) so close to a tiger (Bowie).
ME: Byron, you do have that thing to go to.
BYRON: What thing?
ME: The colonoscopy.
Hey, I had to come up with something.
BOWIE: There goes my appetite.
BOONE: Well, you did just eat a small child earlier.
BOWIE: You can suck my left--
ME: Okay, dinner's over!
Blake tugged on my sleeve, pointed at Bowie, and whispered--
BLAKE: Are you going to teach him not to be mean?
The tall orders keep on coming.
BLAKE: This is just like the Housewives reunion!
I should have known better.
I thought maybe they could all get to know each other better, and help become a support system for each other.
BOWIE: Before we begin, is this twinkie high?
BOONE: Yo, I'm not a twinkie. I'm straight.
BOWIE: Of course you are, you're not the cute one.
Byron was looking uncomfortable. I told everyone that he was also straight, and was just looking for ways to become more open.
BOWIE: You want to be open?
BYRON: Um, yes.
BOWIE: I think I can help with that.
ME: Down, Bowie.
BLAKE: Oh my God! Your name is Bowie? That's wicked Gossip Girl.
BOWIE: Are you even a person?
Blake looked like he'd been slapped--which, he pretty much was.
BOONE: Why don't you back off?
BOWIE: Why don't you talk less?
BYRON: You know, I probably shouldn't even be here.
BLAKE: Um, I'm totally a person.
BOWIE: Why do you have two straights in this experiment? Isn't one token enough?
I could see it was a mistake to bring a pork chop (Byron) so close to a tiger (Bowie).
ME: Byron, you do have that thing to go to.
BYRON: What thing?
ME: The colonoscopy.
Hey, I had to come up with something.
BOWIE: There goes my appetite.
BOONE: Well, you did just eat a small child earlier.
BOWIE: You can suck my left--
ME: Okay, dinner's over!
Blake tugged on my sleeve, pointed at Bowie, and whispered--
BLAKE: Are you going to teach him not to be mean?
The tall orders keep on coming.
Thou Shalt Sneer No More
Bowie was definitely going to be my toughest student.
BOWIE: So if I help you win this bet, you'll split the money with me?
So I may have offered him up some initiative...
ME: If you still want the money after the process, sure.
BOWIE: Ohhh, I'm going to want the money.
ME: You may feel that becoming a better person is payment enough for--
BOWIE: Yeah, yeah, what do I have to do? Adopt an orphan or something?
Step one with Bowie was going to be something simple.
ME: No more sneering.
BOWIE: Beg your pardon?
ME: You sneer at people. It's not nice.
BOWIE: And you know all about nice?
Apparently, someone's never read my other blogs.
ME: Why don't you try smiling?
BOWIE: Why don't you tickle my--
ME: Half the cash!
BOWIE: Ughhh--I only make faces when I have to.
ME: Which is how often?
BOWIE: Um, like now, because you're being a moron.
Baby steps, baby steps.
ME: Let me say something sort of...um...
BOWIE: Stupid?
ME: Interesting! And I want you to just listen and not judge me.
BOWIE: Okay fine. Do I have to--
ME: You don't have to smile. Just try not to look disdainful.
BOWIE: Let's get this over with.
Phrase #1: My boyfriend is so amazing. I don't see him much because he lives in Seattle, but I'm sure he's not cheating or anything.
Bowie looked like a monster was trying to climb out of his throat. Still, he kept the poker face.
Phrase #2: This guy totally wants me. He texted me last week and said he didn't want to talk to me anymore, but he's just playing hard to get. It's so obvi.
I saw Bowie's hands grip the table we were stiting at and go white--but no facial expression.
Phrase #3: How does this shirt look?
BOWIE: I CAN'T! I CAN'T DO IT!
This was going to be fun.
BOWIE: So if I help you win this bet, you'll split the money with me?
So I may have offered him up some initiative...
ME: If you still want the money after the process, sure.
BOWIE: Ohhh, I'm going to want the money.
ME: You may feel that becoming a better person is payment enough for--
BOWIE: Yeah, yeah, what do I have to do? Adopt an orphan or something?
Step one with Bowie was going to be something simple.
ME: No more sneering.
BOWIE: Beg your pardon?
ME: You sneer at people. It's not nice.
BOWIE: And you know all about nice?
Apparently, someone's never read my other blogs.
ME: Why don't you try smiling?
BOWIE: Why don't you tickle my--
ME: Half the cash!
BOWIE: Ughhh--I only make faces when I have to.
ME: Which is how often?
BOWIE: Um, like now, because you're being a moron.
Baby steps, baby steps.
ME: Let me say something sort of...um...
BOWIE: Stupid?
ME: Interesting! And I want you to just listen and not judge me.
BOWIE: Okay fine. Do I have to--
ME: You don't have to smile. Just try not to look disdainful.
BOWIE: Let's get this over with.
Phrase #1: My boyfriend is so amazing. I don't see him much because he lives in Seattle, but I'm sure he's not cheating or anything.
Bowie looked like a monster was trying to climb out of his throat. Still, he kept the poker face.
Phrase #2: This guy totally wants me. He texted me last week and said he didn't want to talk to me anymore, but he's just playing hard to get. It's so obvi.
I saw Bowie's hands grip the table we were stiting at and go white--but no facial expression.
Phrase #3: How does this shirt look?
BOWIE: I CAN'T! I CAN'T DO IT!
This was going to be fun.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Thou Shalt Quit Smoking
My first time with a straight boy didn't go the way I planned.
Wow, I need to revise that statement.
BOONE: Dude, I'm not quitting smoking.
ME: Can I at least get you to quit saying 'dude?'
Boone seemed to be stagnant. Lots of plans, lots of ideas, no outlets, and one big obstacle.
ME: All you do is get stoned.
BOONE: Is this a problem?
ME: What is it you want to do with your life, Boone?
BOONE: I like writing.
A writer?
One of my fellow kinsmen?
Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.
ME: How often do you write?
BOONE: Like...never.
ME: Never?
BOONE: Nope.
ME: That's like saying 'I'm a painter. I just haven't painted anything yet.'
BOONE: I've been busy!
Busy? We were in his apartment. The Hangover was on the television. There was a cricket playing a violin somewhere.
ME: Busy doing what?
BOONE: Enjoying myself.
ME: How often do you smoke a day?
BOONE: Um...
ME: More often than you write, right?
BOONE: Write right?
ME: So--
I grabbed his arm, got him off his couch, and put him down at this desk.
ME: When you're done writing, you can smoke.
BOONE: How much do I have to write?
ME: Let's say ten pages.
BOONE: About what?
ME: I don't care. As long as it's something.
BOONE: Can I write about smoking.
ME: If that's what it takes.
I left him there with his thoughts.
Okay, maybe that's not the best idea--
But it's a start.
Wow, I need to revise that statement.
BOONE: Dude, I'm not quitting smoking.
ME: Can I at least get you to quit saying 'dude?'
Boone seemed to be stagnant. Lots of plans, lots of ideas, no outlets, and one big obstacle.
ME: All you do is get stoned.
BOONE: Is this a problem?
ME: What is it you want to do with your life, Boone?
BOONE: I like writing.
A writer?
One of my fellow kinsmen?
Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all.
ME: How often do you write?
BOONE: Like...never.
ME: Never?
BOONE: Nope.
ME: That's like saying 'I'm a painter. I just haven't painted anything yet.'
BOONE: I've been busy!
Busy? We were in his apartment. The Hangover was on the television. There was a cricket playing a violin somewhere.
ME: Busy doing what?
BOONE: Enjoying myself.
ME: How often do you smoke a day?
BOONE: Um...
ME: More often than you write, right?
BOONE: Write right?
ME: So--
I grabbed his arm, got him off his couch, and put him down at this desk.
ME: When you're done writing, you can smoke.
BOONE: How much do I have to write?
ME: Let's say ten pages.
BOONE: About what?
ME: I don't care. As long as it's something.
BOONE: Can I write about smoking.
ME: If that's what it takes.
I left him there with his thoughts.
Okay, maybe that's not the best idea--
But it's a start.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Thou Shalt Come Out
My first lesson with Byron didn't go very well.
BYRON: I'm not gay.
Some might say it didn't "go" at all.
I invited him to meet me at Andrea's so we could get down to business.
BYRON: I like girls.
Business is slow.
ME: Byron, I saw that guy come out of the bathroom at the party.
BYRON: He was just showing me how to use the shower.
ME: Really? I've never seen a house where the shower didn't work unless two guys were having sex in it.
BYRON: I'm out of here.
He stood up to leave, but that was when the waiter showed up with our drinks.
If there's one thing a closet case won't do, it's leave a room without getting drunk first.
BYRON: Maybe I can hang out for a little while longer, if you promise not to bring up private stuff.
ME: Um, okay.
I was going to have to take a different approach.
Little did I know that approach would be Brad.
BRAD: Hello boys.
ME: Brad, if you're here to sabotage--
BRAD: Give me some credit, Kevin. I'm actually here to help.
BYRON: Do I know you?
BRAD: Kinda. You're screwing my boyfriend.
Uh oh.
ME: Since when do you have a boyfriend?
BRAD: One of my boyfriends. He's screwing one of my boyfriends.
BYRON: I don't know what you're--
BRAD: Apparently you like to get drunk--drunk with big air quotes around it, by the way--then call him up and have him sneak in your dorm room where he helps you with your identity crisis.
BYRON: I don't--
But I could see Brad was telling the truth. That meant Byron was in big trouble. Brad treats his F-buddies like an only child treats his toys.
Nobody gets to play with them but him.
This may not sound fair, but since Brad refuses to be one of my students, there's not much I can do about it.
BRAD: Here's the deal. Kevin's going to try and help you come out the right way. If you let him, I'll back off--mostly because then you won't be a challenge, and my boyfriend will lose interest.
BYRON: And if I don't let him?
BRAD: Then I get to out you--and that's a lot more traumatic. Trust me.
With that, he picked up Byron's drink, downed it, and stood up.
BYRON: That was my drink!
BRAD: It's no fun when people steal from you, is it?
And he walked away.
Byron looked at me with a mixture of fear and rage in his eyes.
ME: Sooo...shall we begin?
Hey, don't judge me. I have a bet to win.
And now, so does Byron.
BYRON: I'm not gay.
Some might say it didn't "go" at all.
I invited him to meet me at Andrea's so we could get down to business.
BYRON: I like girls.
Business is slow.
ME: Byron, I saw that guy come out of the bathroom at the party.
BYRON: He was just showing me how to use the shower.
ME: Really? I've never seen a house where the shower didn't work unless two guys were having sex in it.
BYRON: I'm out of here.
He stood up to leave, but that was when the waiter showed up with our drinks.
If there's one thing a closet case won't do, it's leave a room without getting drunk first.
BYRON: Maybe I can hang out for a little while longer, if you promise not to bring up private stuff.
ME: Um, okay.
I was going to have to take a different approach.
Little did I know that approach would be Brad.
BRAD: Hello boys.
ME: Brad, if you're here to sabotage--
BRAD: Give me some credit, Kevin. I'm actually here to help.
BYRON: Do I know you?
BRAD: Kinda. You're screwing my boyfriend.
Uh oh.
ME: Since when do you have a boyfriend?
BRAD: One of my boyfriends. He's screwing one of my boyfriends.
BYRON: I don't know what you're--
BRAD: Apparently you like to get drunk--drunk with big air quotes around it, by the way--then call him up and have him sneak in your dorm room where he helps you with your identity crisis.
BYRON: I don't--
But I could see Brad was telling the truth. That meant Byron was in big trouble. Brad treats his F-buddies like an only child treats his toys.
Nobody gets to play with them but him.
This may not sound fair, but since Brad refuses to be one of my students, there's not much I can do about it.
BRAD: Here's the deal. Kevin's going to try and help you come out the right way. If you let him, I'll back off--mostly because then you won't be a challenge, and my boyfriend will lose interest.
BYRON: And if I don't let him?
BRAD: Then I get to out you--and that's a lot more traumatic. Trust me.
With that, he picked up Byron's drink, downed it, and stood up.
BYRON: That was my drink!
BRAD: It's no fun when people steal from you, is it?
And he walked away.
Byron looked at me with a mixture of fear and rage in his eyes.
ME: Sooo...shall we begin?
Hey, don't judge me. I have a bet to win.
And now, so does Byron.
Thou Shalt Cleanse Thy Facebook
My first lesson with Blake involved Facebook.
BLAKE: Oh my God! Are we going to compare mutual friends?
This was going to be a bloodbath.
ME: No, we're going to delete friends.
Crickets...
BLAKE: I'm going to have to cry and then kill you.
Since it was clear that Blake's life was full of drama, I thought the first place to clear away the social debris was the social network.
ME: Blake, your Facebook is a magnet for trouble.
BLAKE: What are you talking about?
ME: You have four relationships, four break-ups, a feud with some guy named 'Stoney Joe,' and nineteen passive aggressive statuses with hearts all on the same day of newsfeed.
BLAKE: That's called a life, K-Broc.
ME: That's called we're hitting the restart button.
BLAKE: WHAT?!?!
I decided to take things slow.
First we defriended everyone that Blake wasn't actually friends with--
BLAKE: NO! Not Taylor!
ME: You like Taylor?
BLAKE: I loathe Taylor.
ME: So why are you friends with Taylor?
BLAKE: Keep your friends close.
ME: And defriend your enemies.
BLAKE: Ugh, I hate slash love slash wanna punch you.
ME: Slash your friends list, then we'll talk.
By the time we were done defriending and removing embarrassing posts from his wall, all he had was--
BLAKE: My favorite movies and a wall post from my grandma.
Well, it's a start.
BLAKE: Oh my God! Are we going to compare mutual friends?
This was going to be a bloodbath.
ME: No, we're going to delete friends.
Crickets...
BLAKE: I'm going to have to cry and then kill you.
Since it was clear that Blake's life was full of drama, I thought the first place to clear away the social debris was the social network.
ME: Blake, your Facebook is a magnet for trouble.
BLAKE: What are you talking about?
ME: You have four relationships, four break-ups, a feud with some guy named 'Stoney Joe,' and nineteen passive aggressive statuses with hearts all on the same day of newsfeed.
BLAKE: That's called a life, K-Broc.
ME: That's called we're hitting the restart button.
BLAKE: WHAT?!?!
I decided to take things slow.
First we defriended everyone that Blake wasn't actually friends with--
BLAKE: NO! Not Taylor!
ME: You like Taylor?
BLAKE: I loathe Taylor.
ME: So why are you friends with Taylor?
BLAKE: Keep your friends close.
ME: And defriend your enemies.
BLAKE: Ugh, I hate slash love slash wanna punch you.
ME: Slash your friends list, then we'll talk.
By the time we were done defriending and removing embarrassing posts from his wall, all he had was--
BLAKE: My favorite movies and a wall post from my grandma.
Well, it's a start.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Thou Shalt Start The New Semester
Life begins at parties.
You know who said that?
BRAD: Me.
Brad. That's right.
BRAD: And someone else, but who cares?
He'd talked me into going out on a Wednesday night to some house party in the PC area.
ME: I'm not sure why I let you talk me into this.
BRAD: What's wrong?
ME: It's midnight on a Wednesday and I'm just arriving at a party.
BRAD: And?
ME: Brad, we're not in college anymore. We're in our late twenties.
BRAD: You're in your late twenties. I'm a sparkling nineteen.
ME: Is that the ecstasy, the alcohol, or the bitterness talking?
BRAD: A combo of two, now--
Brad suddenly had a devilish smile on his face.
ME: There's another reason I'm here, isn't there?
BRAD: Remember when you said you'd give me a chance to win some of the money I lost to you back?
ME: You mean when I transformed four little ducklings into glittering duckettes?
BRAD: That's right.
ME: Brad, I'm a little too busy to be taking on--
BRAD: Too bad. I have four boys inside this house who all need a mentor.
ME: Are they tied up in different rooms?
BRAD: Damn, I didn't think of that.
ME: So I meet these boys and then decide if--
BRAD: No, no, no. You accept the mission. You find the boys. You fix them by the end of the semester--
ME: Which school?
BRAD: Let's just say December.
ME: And you pay double?
BRAD: Or you do.
I was tempted, which means I said--
ME: How do I find them?
More of that devilish grin.
BRAD: Look for the purple ribbon.
. . . . .
The house was packed.
I only met my first pupil, because he spilled his drink on me.
BLAKE: Oh my God! I am so sorry!
I immediately noticed the red ribbon tied around his waist.
ME: Are you somebody's present?
BLAKE: Some cute drunk old guy gave this to me.
ME: That would be Brad, and you are--?
BLAKE: Blake. Is he your friend? Because I'm sort of dealing with Daddy issues because my father was really absent during my childhood. Do you want a drink? I'd get you one. You seem nice. Sorry about the spill. Want to take off your pants? Haha...Sorry, that was lame. But if you want to make out, I'm very sexually progressive.
ME: I'm...wet.
BLAKE: In a hot way?
ME: In a wet way.
BLAKE: Haha...you're amazing. Do you think this could be fate?
ME: I think nothing about this was unplanned. Is there a bathroom in here?
BLAKE: Yeah, but, ugh, people were making out in it. I mean, good for them. I'm probably just jealous, but like, everybody needs love, you know? And I really have nobody in my life since my last boyfriend left. It's just--
ME: Hold that thought, Blake.
Okay, so clearly, a drama queen. That was going to be tricky, but not impossible.
When I got to the bathroom, I noticed a red ribbon tied around the doorknob.
One of the boys in here must be--
RANDOM GUY: Um...someone's in there.
The random guy who just popped out was still zipping up his fly when he warned me against going in.
ME: Yeah, I figured as much.
Was this guy my second student?
I had my answer when he took off, and a minute later another guy popped out looking really ashamed.
ME: Are you okay?
GUY: Yeah, I was just using the bathroom. What's your problem?
ME: I don't have a--
VOICE: Byron!
That was when this adorable girl appeared, and grabbed Byron's sleeve.
GIRL: You've become the worst date here.
BYRON: Sorry, Kat.
KAT: I'm only teasing, By. You know how much I love my boyfriend.
ME: Is your boyfriend here?
KAT: Yeah, this is him.
ME: I see.
KAT: Who are you?
ME: I'm Kevin. Did you know--
I saw Byron look at me with pleading in his eyes.
ME: --that koala bears are incredibly fertile?
KAT: Oh great, a zoology major.
With that, Kat took off with Byron following after her.
She calls him 'By'--how appropriate.
Once I wiped down my jeans in the bathroom, I found a note scrawled in lipstick on the mirror.
And nobody has better lipstick penmanship than Brad.
"Up the Stairs. Second Door on the Left."
If I walked in on any sort of spanking, the bet was off.
In fact, when I walked into the room, all I could see was red ribbon covering the bed.
ME: Went all out on this one, huh Brad?
VOICE: Are you Tony?
I turned around to see a jittery guy with tattoos staring at me like I was about to do a magic trick.
ME: No, are you Tony?
BOONE: I'm Boone
ME: You're kidding.
BOONE: No.
ME: Who's Tony?
BOONE: This...guy...I'm waiting for.
ME: Oh my God, are you soliciting?
BOONE: What does that even mean?
ME: Are you waiting for a prostitute?
BOONE: No!
ME: Oh, thank God.
BOONE: I'm waiting for my dealer.
Annnd we're done.
ME: You can't give me a drug addict, Brad!
I called up Brad from my cell phone while sitting on the staircase as people puked mere feet from my head.
BRAD: He's not a drug addict. He only smokes pot.
ME: That's still more than I do.
BRAD: Which is probably why diamonds are forming in your ass as we speak.
ME: I'm not dealing with a gay pothead.
BRAD: Great. You don't have to.
ME: So you're taking him off the roster?
BRAD: No kitten, he's not gay.
ME: WHAT?
BRAD: He's my wildcard. A straight boy.
ME: That is--
As I was about to say 'bullpucky,' I felt a red ribbon be pulled down in front of my eyes.
VOICE: Gotcha.
I lifted the ribbon, turned around, and there was--
BOWIE: Looks like my Christmas came early.
ME: Uh--
BRAD: From the sound of it, you just met your last recruit.
I hung up the phone.
BOWIE: I'm Bowie.
ME: Kevin.
BOWIE: Nice to meet you.
ME: Same here.
BOWIE: Sorry if I was a bit forward. Some guy left ribbon everywhere upstairs, so I thought I'd put it to good use.
So he's, what? A slut? Too direct? Same difference?
ME: It's fine, really.
BOWIE: So do you want to get out of here?
Slut.
ME: Actually, I'd like to get to know you. I'm trying to make some new friends.
Four new friends.
BOWIE: Well, I don't really need friends.
ME: Everyone needs friends.
Bowie laughed. It was a...scary sort of laugh.
Then it stopped.
BOWIE: Look, you can either come back to my lovely apartment with me off Hope Street and screw until we pass out, or you can stay here, but considering you look like you got dressed at Savers, you should consider yourself lucky I ever pulled the ribbon over your eyes in the first place.
Uh oh. Dangerous, Will Robinson.
This guy was no mere slut. He was--
BOWIE: Fine. Stay. But just so you know, I'm going to go home, find you on Facebook, and send every one of your friends a message letting them know you use too much teeth while you're giving head. Maybe next time you'll be a little more humble when a cute guy offers you the night of a lifetime.
--A cobra.
By the time I made it out of the party, the police were already on their way to break it up.
Brad was waiting for me outside on the lawn.
ME: A closet case. A straight stoner. A melodramatic case study. And--
BRAD: Bowie. Ain't he something?
ME: You've got to be kidding me with all this, right?
BRAD: Double or nothing means raising the stakes.
ME: Yes, but you drove the stake through my skull.
BRAD: So you're backing down? Because that means you pay up.
Trying to transform these four guys could give me a nervous breakdown.
ME: Start saving up, Brad. It's going to be an expensive Christmas.
I hear the looney bin is lovely in the fall.
You know who said that?
BRAD: Me.
Brad. That's right.
BRAD: And someone else, but who cares?
He'd talked me into going out on a Wednesday night to some house party in the PC area.
ME: I'm not sure why I let you talk me into this.
BRAD: What's wrong?
ME: It's midnight on a Wednesday and I'm just arriving at a party.
BRAD: And?
ME: Brad, we're not in college anymore. We're in our late twenties.
BRAD: You're in your late twenties. I'm a sparkling nineteen.
ME: Is that the ecstasy, the alcohol, or the bitterness talking?
BRAD: A combo of two, now--
Brad suddenly had a devilish smile on his face.
ME: There's another reason I'm here, isn't there?
BRAD: Remember when you said you'd give me a chance to win some of the money I lost to you back?
ME: You mean when I transformed four little ducklings into glittering duckettes?
BRAD: That's right.
ME: Brad, I'm a little too busy to be taking on--
BRAD: Too bad. I have four boys inside this house who all need a mentor.
ME: Are they tied up in different rooms?
BRAD: Damn, I didn't think of that.
ME: So I meet these boys and then decide if--
BRAD: No, no, no. You accept the mission. You find the boys. You fix them by the end of the semester--
ME: Which school?
BRAD: Let's just say December.
ME: And you pay double?
BRAD: Or you do.
I was tempted, which means I said--
ME: How do I find them?
More of that devilish grin.
BRAD: Look for the purple ribbon.
. . . . .
The house was packed.
I only met my first pupil, because he spilled his drink on me.
BLAKE: Oh my God! I am so sorry!
I immediately noticed the red ribbon tied around his waist.
ME: Are you somebody's present?
BLAKE: Some cute drunk old guy gave this to me.
ME: That would be Brad, and you are--?
BLAKE: Blake. Is he your friend? Because I'm sort of dealing with Daddy issues because my father was really absent during my childhood. Do you want a drink? I'd get you one. You seem nice. Sorry about the spill. Want to take off your pants? Haha...Sorry, that was lame. But if you want to make out, I'm very sexually progressive.
ME: I'm...wet.
BLAKE: In a hot way?
ME: In a wet way.
BLAKE: Haha...you're amazing. Do you think this could be fate?
ME: I think nothing about this was unplanned. Is there a bathroom in here?
BLAKE: Yeah, but, ugh, people were making out in it. I mean, good for them. I'm probably just jealous, but like, everybody needs love, you know? And I really have nobody in my life since my last boyfriend left. It's just--
ME: Hold that thought, Blake.
Okay, so clearly, a drama queen. That was going to be tricky, but not impossible.
When I got to the bathroom, I noticed a red ribbon tied around the doorknob.
One of the boys in here must be--
RANDOM GUY: Um...someone's in there.
The random guy who just popped out was still zipping up his fly when he warned me against going in.
ME: Yeah, I figured as much.
Was this guy my second student?
I had my answer when he took off, and a minute later another guy popped out looking really ashamed.
ME: Are you okay?
GUY: Yeah, I was just using the bathroom. What's your problem?
ME: I don't have a--
VOICE: Byron!
That was when this adorable girl appeared, and grabbed Byron's sleeve.
GIRL: You've become the worst date here.
BYRON: Sorry, Kat.
KAT: I'm only teasing, By. You know how much I love my boyfriend.
ME: Is your boyfriend here?
KAT: Yeah, this is him.
ME: I see.
KAT: Who are you?
ME: I'm Kevin. Did you know--
I saw Byron look at me with pleading in his eyes.
ME: --that koala bears are incredibly fertile?
KAT: Oh great, a zoology major.
With that, Kat took off with Byron following after her.
She calls him 'By'--how appropriate.
Once I wiped down my jeans in the bathroom, I found a note scrawled in lipstick on the mirror.
And nobody has better lipstick penmanship than Brad.
"Up the Stairs. Second Door on the Left."
If I walked in on any sort of spanking, the bet was off.
In fact, when I walked into the room, all I could see was red ribbon covering the bed.
ME: Went all out on this one, huh Brad?
VOICE: Are you Tony?
I turned around to see a jittery guy with tattoos staring at me like I was about to do a magic trick.
ME: No, are you Tony?
BOONE: I'm Boone
ME: You're kidding.
BOONE: No.
ME: Who's Tony?
BOONE: This...guy...I'm waiting for.
ME: Oh my God, are you soliciting?
BOONE: What does that even mean?
ME: Are you waiting for a prostitute?
BOONE: No!
ME: Oh, thank God.
BOONE: I'm waiting for my dealer.
Annnd we're done.
ME: You can't give me a drug addict, Brad!
I called up Brad from my cell phone while sitting on the staircase as people puked mere feet from my head.
BRAD: He's not a drug addict. He only smokes pot.
ME: That's still more than I do.
BRAD: Which is probably why diamonds are forming in your ass as we speak.
ME: I'm not dealing with a gay pothead.
BRAD: Great. You don't have to.
ME: So you're taking him off the roster?
BRAD: No kitten, he's not gay.
ME: WHAT?
BRAD: He's my wildcard. A straight boy.
ME: That is--
As I was about to say 'bullpucky,' I felt a red ribbon be pulled down in front of my eyes.
VOICE: Gotcha.
I lifted the ribbon, turned around, and there was--
BOWIE: Looks like my Christmas came early.
ME: Uh--
BRAD: From the sound of it, you just met your last recruit.
I hung up the phone.
BOWIE: I'm Bowie.
ME: Kevin.
BOWIE: Nice to meet you.
ME: Same here.
BOWIE: Sorry if I was a bit forward. Some guy left ribbon everywhere upstairs, so I thought I'd put it to good use.
So he's, what? A slut? Too direct? Same difference?
ME: It's fine, really.
BOWIE: So do you want to get out of here?
Slut.
ME: Actually, I'd like to get to know you. I'm trying to make some new friends.
Four new friends.
BOWIE: Well, I don't really need friends.
ME: Everyone needs friends.
Bowie laughed. It was a...scary sort of laugh.
Then it stopped.
BOWIE: Look, you can either come back to my lovely apartment with me off Hope Street and screw until we pass out, or you can stay here, but considering you look like you got dressed at Savers, you should consider yourself lucky I ever pulled the ribbon over your eyes in the first place.
Uh oh. Dangerous, Will Robinson.
This guy was no mere slut. He was--
BOWIE: Fine. Stay. But just so you know, I'm going to go home, find you on Facebook, and send every one of your friends a message letting them know you use too much teeth while you're giving head. Maybe next time you'll be a little more humble when a cute guy offers you the night of a lifetime.
--A cobra.
By the time I made it out of the party, the police were already on their way to break it up.
Brad was waiting for me outside on the lawn.
ME: A closet case. A straight stoner. A melodramatic case study. And--
BRAD: Bowie. Ain't he something?
ME: You've got to be kidding me with all this, right?
BRAD: Double or nothing means raising the stakes.
ME: Yes, but you drove the stake through my skull.
BRAD: So you're backing down? Because that means you pay up.
Trying to transform these four guys could give me a nervous breakdown.
ME: Start saving up, Brad. It's going to be an expensive Christmas.
I hear the looney bin is lovely in the fall.
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