Some people actually have a burning desire to be famous, have their face on the big screen, their names in lights, ever immortalized on film. Me, I kinda found acting by accident and just did it because it was fun and people thought I was funny.

I was quite the shy one in grade school. All my friends knew I could be counted on for a silly yet cool prank, but all my teachers thought I was the perfect little student, so quiet, so respectful. One day while in Mrs. Lazars fourth grade class I was asked to repeat a comment I had whispered under my breath about her hairdo. I thought I would cry when called out on the carpet, but I knew I had to comply. When the class erupted in hysterical laughter at my cruel critique, for which I was truly remorseful, I was stunned by the reaction and a comedienne emerged.

A burden I have reluctantly borne for years especially since my home life was not the most fun place to be. Nothing abusive or anything like that – my parents were just so old acting – lacking in any meaningful sense of humor. I think they had kids because it was the appropriate thing to do in the corporate world my dad ruled. I wasnt unloved or neglected – they just didnt GET me or my jokes. My father would shake his head and often wondered where I came from and who my real dad was.

The highlight of my life with father had to be the time he yelled at me to bring him some coffee as he sat in his Lazyboy reading the Sunday paper. I whispered to my little brother and older sister to watch as I walked slowly and cautiously carrying the cup of steaming hot coffee. Unbeknownst to my stoic old man, the cup was empty. But as I called to him and said heres your coffee I pretended to trip and spill it all over him. He was so surprised by my maneuver that he jumped backwards and fell off the chair as it titled up and over !! When nothing came out of the cup and he realized his children had played a joke on him (our unctrollable laughter was probably a dead give-away), he didnt laugh or smile or grin or even acknowledge my most excellent move . No, he simply put us time out or what was the equivalent of that back in those days which was throwing us in our respective rooms with a rosary !! To this day Im not sure what I was supposed to be praying for.

Of course I was voted Most Humorous in high school and participated in many of the school plays if they were comedies. I wasnt much of a singer and I danced like a white girl so I passed on the musicals. After college and once established in a community pursuing a career, I got involved in local theatre, again seeking out the comedies and an occasional drama just to stretch my abilities. Still, no burning desire to head to Hollywood – it was just a hobby.

No, my career path was one of service to others – no matter what the job. All that Catholic school upbringing pounded into my brain to pursue something rewarding instead of narcissistic or financially profitable.

Despite the career choices I have made along the way, I have never really found my true calling and continue to make decisions on what I want to be when I grow up. My problem is Im not growing up very quickly. Ive always lived my life as if it were one big clich, responding to situations with lines from movies and words from songs. Im not very original but people who dont go to movies or listen to music or grasp the English language think I am clever. My friendships are not based on sexuality, gender, social status, political beliefs or appearances

To be a friend of mine you better you have a sense of humor and be able to quote a film or two, a song or two or accept the fact that I do — a lot And you better get it what ever the it of the day is.

(Someone commented on one of my first series of stories with the line Youre killing Smalls and when I read that I wanted to meet her and marry her!! I knew that woman got it.)

I never underestimate the studpity of the general public since I work with them on a daily basis. But every once in a while someone will surprise me with a clever and witty response to the obvious sardonic and sometimes sarcastic view of my world. I like those people immediately even if I never see them again. I wish the world had more like them – more like you FAN FIC writers – masters of linguistics – word wizards – story spinners – tantalizing tale tellers.

And speaking of my world, my best friend in it is Trey Short and honest to god that is his name. The third and youngest (and smallest!) child born to Millie and Ernest Short. His parents had a way with names for sure — their number one child was maiden, middle boy was Deuce and third -times-the-charm- my good buddy Trey.

Ya see Shorts is a midget, not really, but he is so little he could be one. More like a jockey I guess because there is nothing medically wrong with him really – he just stopped growing . (There probably is something wrong but that is his explanation – just stopped growing) When he is wearing those red stilettos he has for his drag show he probably stands a good 410 maybe 4 6 barefoot. The guy is a mental mess with more issues than Life magazine – understandable considering that name, his size, his gayness. Hes skinny, cute as a button and the biggest whining drama queen this side of Nathan Lane in Bird Cage. He has his short spiky hair professionally high-lighted and wears a goatee all the time. His signature outfit is a black muscle tank top and tight white jeans. An ever present pair of silver hoop earrings dangle from his left lobe and there is no mistaking this ***** is *****.

I met him after the accident when my career choices had suddenly become more limited. I had lost my desire to be a professional again. The hospitality industry was always a favorite of mine – waiting tables and tending bar being two of my preferred choices. Shorts was busing tables at a local beach resort where I was working. It was a job that I thought was beneath him and told him so. I said he had a talent – a gift from God which he was wasting -that he should listen for the Word , look for the Signs , feel His touch. He told me that the only time he felt the presence of God was when he listened to the tunes of a Broadway musical. I fell in love immediately -instant and lifelong friends.

Shorts was an excellent chef. His father was a well-known restaurateur in town and owned a number of family dining as well as fine dining establishments. Shorts had grown up in the business and could have had a job in any one of his fathers places running the kitchen or managing the entire operation. But he wanted nothing to do with his father or his familys businesses. He just wanted a job to make a little cash – he was majoring in theatre at the local community college and was going to pursue an acting career – he was just paying the bills right now before graduation and heading to LA.

That was ten years ago and we are still best of friends today. We have always been able to talk about anything and this guy really gets me and the meaning of life from a born and reared Catholic perspective. The only subject off limits is his family, especially his relationship with his father. Im quite positive there was never any kind of physical or sexual abuse – I work for his father now in one of his casual dining places on the pier and actually like the guy. Hospitality industry workers change jobs as often as mothers change the diapers of their newborns so it was no big deal for me to leave the place where Shorts and I met and end up working for his old man. Mr. S was intensely business-oriented and spent little time belittling his children or employees in any way. Which made the father / son relationship thing so much more of a mystery to me even though it really wasnt any of my concern.

Ernest wasnt happy Shorts was ***** – what parent is actually happy about it. But he tried really hard to accept the fact and often talked to me about homo stuff because he knew I was a *****. He didnt understand the ***** part but he did understand the torment his son experienced and the injustices he suffered because of his physical stature as well as his sexual preference ( he did seem pretty oblivious to the whole name thing !) He was glad his son had a friend like me.

It was more Shorts fault the two didnt communicate. Not being a mariebradnt type or anything like that, I used to think that maybe it was a matter of self-image and that Shorts thought of himself as unworthy of his fathers love somehow – that maybe he was a disappointment in his successful fathers eyes. I dont know; we werent allowed to discuss it. His dad was a bonehead and often said some insensitive things, but he loved his son and hated the fact that they were estranged. Mr. S liked having me around to keep him informed – an act I often thought of as love not betrayal.

One of night after meeting for drinks in one of the late night beach bars, our conversation as usual, turned to television and the new L Word series which had debuted a few weeks earlier. Shorts and I were both regular viewers of ***** as Folk – -me just someone who liked to watch, but Shorts – a fan with an obsession for Emmett. He would rant and rave endlessly abouthow much he and Emmett had in common and how he could SO relate to the character, blah blah blah . I listened because it was the polite thing to do.

But when our talk centered around L and he began the same incessant chatter, not about Emmett, but about SHANE, I knew he needed more help than I could ever render . . . .

TBC . . .