Tom and I were running sprints with the rest of Denver’s Gay Rugby team across Cheesman Park. This was awhile back but, I’ve been forgetting to blog about it, probably because I was suppressing it.
We’re hauling ass down the park as fast as we can to get to the grove of trees, at this point my lungs have filled with some sort of deadly fluid, and as I staggered to the tree line two homeless gay youth step out from doing the nasty. The one with the nasty burn on his lip exclaims loudly,
“What is this? A fat camp!”
Tom turns to start something, and I think yeah, don’t f%$k with Tom. Quickly I realize that Toms wanting to rumble with the teenage prostitutes would normally mean I’m his backup, but since my lungs had collapsed. He was on his own.
“Damn Tom *gasp* I’d say I got your *gasp* back but, I’m going to die now *gasp* so your own your *gasp* own.“
It’s a turning point in your life when gay- teenage- druggie prostitutes can call you fat, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them.
My life as it has been lived with dignity.
well, we are glad you didn't die
ReplyDeleteIf it helps, one day those teenage pros will be fat, breathless old men too!
ReplyDeleteMate - you should have a radio show.
ReplyDeleteOh - and again....... stop being so damn cute..... killin me here.
Did the Mutant just call me fat and old? Damien, tell him I was being facetious. He'll think old when I throw him over my shoulder and carry him off in to the Melbourne forest.
ReplyDeleteStevie, would I do something that nasty? Hmmm, I probably would, however you should probably be aware that I find you an Atlas-like model of masculinity and... hang on a minute, what did you just say about proving your abilty? YOU'RE FAT N OLD, FAT N OLD, FAT N OLD!!!
ReplyDeleteRight, now come get me! The forest awaits!