Dual
RIP Karl 1991-2014
He is Kevin. Five four, hunched over in the painful to behold posture of one born into cerebral palsy; a crack baby adopted by Texans. Immortal sparse orange neckbeard. A stench that reaches far and wide; pungent as any skunk.
He is Jack. Five eleven, buzz cut, snake eyes harbouring a cruel dispassion. A recent arrival at one month in. Some of us know him. A tarnished reputation. We met him at NIBH, eons ago. Now he's here.
My room. Night. Jack corners me. "Hey Karl, wanna have gay sex?"
No Jack, oh please no. "No, but Kevin does.."
Later. Jack and Kevin are in my closet. Alan walks in looking for them. The man appears a combined charicature of hawk and turtle. Hawk nose overlooked by bland glasses, bald head atop all. Always the yellow sweater. He works the night shift, and does two things: Count food and watch us sleep. A bagel is missing. The guilty party will be discovered and will be terminated. Alan will make sure of that.
Where are Kevin and Jack? he asks. In the closet. Alan walks through the bathroom, opens the walk in closet's door. A sound of dismay. What are you two doing?! Go back to your rooms!
Jack was pitching. The morrow. Rosa. Kevin and Jack are on a five foot. Kevin talks about an erotic encounter. Jack denies.
Time goes on. Kevin calls Jack his bitch. No, Kevin. You're his bitch, you silly boy. Jack is roused to anger. Again and again, Kevin pokes the bear, until finally his hibernation breaks. He throws a glass of water on Jack.
Jack retaliates in kind. Lex talionis. Hammurabi would be proud. Kevin grabs a fireplace poker, his tortured posture giving the pose an oddly comical subtext. Limping, Kevin chases Jack. They go outside. Around the house. Kevin screams that he'll slit Jack's throat. Jack comes back inside and we lock Kevin out. In despair, Kevin walks down the driveway towards Dodd. He'll try to find solace with the girls. Jack, determined not to fall prey to his lover, goes to the donkey barn and gets a pitchfork. He plans to impale Kevin if he comes back.
Bye Jack. Bye Kevin.
He is Jack. Five eleven, buzz cut, snake eyes harbouring a cruel dispassion. A recent arrival at one month in. Some of us know him. A tarnished reputation. We met him at NIBH, eons ago. Now he's here.
My room. Night. Jack corners me. "Hey Karl, wanna have gay sex?"
No Jack, oh please no. "No, but Kevin does.."
Later. Jack and Kevin are in my closet. Alan walks in looking for them. The man appears a combined charicature of hawk and turtle. Hawk nose overlooked by bland glasses, bald head atop all. Always the yellow sweater. He works the night shift, and does two things: Count food and watch us sleep. A bagel is missing. The guilty party will be discovered and will be terminated. Alan will make sure of that.
Where are Kevin and Jack? he asks. In the closet. Alan walks through the bathroom, opens the walk in closet's door. A sound of dismay. What are you two doing?! Go back to your rooms!
Jack was pitching. The morrow. Rosa. Kevin and Jack are on a five foot. Kevin talks about an erotic encounter. Jack denies.
Time goes on. Kevin calls Jack his bitch. No, Kevin. You're his bitch, you silly boy. Jack is roused to anger. Again and again, Kevin pokes the bear, until finally his hibernation breaks. He throws a glass of water on Jack.
Jack retaliates in kind. Lex talionis. Hammurabi would be proud. Kevin grabs a fireplace poker, his tortured posture giving the pose an oddly comical subtext. Limping, Kevin chases Jack. They go outside. Around the house. Kevin screams that he'll slit Jack's throat. Jack comes back inside and we lock Kevin out. In despair, Kevin walks down the driveway towards Dodd. He'll try to find solace with the girls. Jack, determined not to fall prey to his lover, goes to the donkey barn and gets a pitchfork. He plans to impale Kevin if he comes back.
Bye Jack. Bye Kevin.
