(Funny thing about hurricanes, even if they dont hit you directly , they stir things up in nature and cause havoc of a different kind. You see, I have a snake in my pool – must have lost his way during the last go round – hes taken up residence in the lounge chair at the bottom – I cant decide if I should let him go or hope he dies of chlorine poisoning – if I let him go ***** get his friends to come back with him and hang out and party. If I let him die, his friends will come to claim the body and snake wakes are pretty rowdy so I guess Ill lose either way. I dont know what kind he is – I know hes not your garden variety because I dont have a garden. Then theres the field mice – the field is a mile away and still they find their way to our neighborhood. And the gator in the creek behind the house is making me think my fence isnt big or strong enough.
I think Ill keep the windows boarded up until next week sometime. Looks like our area will be spared once again, but I kinda like it in the dark, tomb-like atmosphere created by the boards. We addicts seem to feel more comfortable sneakin around doin our thing when we think no one can see us. Im having computer troubles so I hope this gets out – another hurricane related problem I guess . . .)






Shorts was on his way over to my place, picking me up and heading to the Tuesday at the Hospice show. He was right . . We needed to discuss the trip and finalize plans even though we had plenty of time.

I was looking around the bedroom for my rubber hand – probably going to pull a dry run prank in the car on the way over just for a little screaming practice. Ill put the hand in the trunk, sticking half way out. Inevitably, someone will pull up beside us and make a cutsy remark like Are you missing a hand? Then Ill hold up my handless arm to them say oh my gawd youre right, Ill scream, Shorts will scream, the people in the other car will scream and the people driving by us will probably call 9-1-1 to report a disturbance of road rage.

Anyway, I found the hand in the drawer of the night stand and once again came upon the napkin with an e-mail address on it. I seem to recall Shorts saying something about fans of the Show writing stories about L characters, how did he put it, to keep the love alive in between episodes. I taped the napkin to my computer and decided to check out the site – sounded a little more than interesting.

I hear Shorts beeping his car horn out in my driveway. One final look around the room, around the house, to make sure I have what I need. I take a deep breath before walking out the door because I know we will touch on two subjects about the trip that I do not want to discuss but need to be resolved.

OK lets go . . .weve got a trip to plan and a show to do . . .

Hi baby, I hop into the passenger seat, lean over and kiss Shorts on the cheek as I run my hand through his freshly moussed hair. I wipe my sticky fingers down the front of his black tank and wink at him before he can say anything nasty.

Whats the show today?

80s stuff, he replies. But were adding a few really new songs – Cry Me a River and that one by Nina Sky. Darryl has that one nailed and it should be fabulous.

What about the video? I ask Every show ends that same way no matter what the theme. Shorts puts together a video of photographs that staff members take each week of the patients. Its set to Bette Midlers FRIENDS . . . Oh, you got to have friends (picture, picture, picture, ), the feelings oh so strong (picture, picture, picture) you got to have friends (picture, picture, picture) to make the day last long ( ***)

Before the song is over everyone is shoulder to shoulder swaying and singing and hugging and laughing and crying and singing – – its just so ***** awesome.

The video is good this week – we only lost three patients and the staff made sure they had plenty of photos of them so it will be a nice tribute.
Good, I like the video. You do a nice job of putting it together.

Girl, speaking of putting things together, this trip is going to be wicked and you need to start getting excited.

(~~The man is a moron, the thing is 8 weeks away – Ill have plenty of time to get excited~~)

I know, guy, but we have to get TWO things worked out before I say YES. One is Smack and Two is your dad

Smack is Treys dog – an Italian greyhound standing about a foot and tall with that heroine chic skinny ribs-showing kinda look – – even though he eats more food in a day than I could consume in a week, this creature looks like hes being starved. Because of his thin appearance – that heroine-chic look – he was named SMACK – that wasnt his name before but thats what we call him.

Shorts got him as a gift from one of the patients at the hospice – some really old man who rescued the dog from the pound. The dog was devoted to the old man and took quite awhile getting used to Trey and his oddball lifestyle. Smack seemed to be a happy guy except around me – – he never smiled or barked or played when I came by. He just followed me – like a stalker – no matter where I went or what I did – there would be that skinny piece of wanna-be-big greyhound trailing me –watching me — giving me the creeps.

I wouldnt have minded it so much if thats all he did – – I felt for the little guy – – losing his master after being left behind at the shelter by someone who just didnt want him– abandoned twice – – I wasnt that insensitive. But I just couldnt take that THING he did to me — ALL the time..

We cant take Smack with us, Shorts, I tried to come up with some believable reasons. Well probably getting jobs, well have to leave the mini winni unattended for long periods of time. Plus he eats like a frickin pig and he wont leave me alone. He cant go.

Girl, shut your trap about the dog – hes going and YOU are just going to have to get used to him. I think he does what he does because he likes you but doesnt really know how YOU feel. That thing he does his just his way of showing affection. Besides, I know you really like him so just get over your pathetic self.

Trey, honey, sweetie, knucklehead, FARTING on someone is no way to show affection.

Smack the stalker would follow me every where and when the opportunity presented itself, that thin little piece of skinny ***** would ever so nonchalantly look me in the eye, lift his leg as if he were going to pee, and let a little toot. He would wait about two seconds for my reaction then trot away – waiting until I moved to my next destination. He would then repeat the process — stalk me — look at me — leg lift — toot — retreat. WHAT THE ***** WAS THAT ALL ABOUT??? HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO GET USED TO THAT??

Enough with the drama, Lefty, the dog goes. Make friends, make conversation, make a deal with him, whatever – the dog goes. And you better start showing him some love – third time may not be a charm for him, he could go Cujo on you. Now about my dad.

Fine, if the dog goes, then your dad knows. Thats MY demand in this trip preparation.

Must I keep reminding you that this TRIP was your idea, whether you remember or not. And Ill tell my dad when we get back. Deal?

Deal, I guess since it looks like this is another discussion I wont win.

We were getting close to the hospice so our conversation pretty much ended on the compromise of the dog and the dad. Shorts was getting into performance mode which meant he was done chatting and starting to do breathing, concentration, and musical exercises. Youd think he was getting ready to go on stage at the Met or Carnegie Hall – what a stooge!

I was happy about the compromise — you see Shorts has the HIV virus — has had it for over six years. But just two months ago things took a turn for the worse and he has developed AIDS. Even with all the advancements in treatments sometimes the disease wins and we both know that time is a precious commodity not to be wasted at this stage.

He wants me to take care of his dog and I want him to tell his dad how sick he is – thats the deal. Well, actually his dad knows because I am a spy, a liar, a betrayer of trust. But I need for him to make amends and get me out of the middle.

So I suggested the trip to fulfill his L Word obsessive fetish – thats where we are – planning a trip to Canada to get our asses on tv. And with any luck, Shorts and Shane will have a meaningful conversation — about what – only god knows for sure.


T b c . . .