Page 35 - Some Dance to Remember

Some Dance to Remember 5

to the boy, “is a star especially in her own home. Now bug off, Evan-
Eddie!” Then in her sweetest virginal voice she said, “Hello. Backstage.
Blue Moon.” She paused. Her voice hardened. “I should have hoped it was
you. When the fuck are you going to get me something?”
“It’s not her agent,” Evan-Eddie said to Ryan. “It’s her dealer.” He
scrutinized Ryan. “You are her sister, aren’t you?”
“Put in your contacts, dude. I’m her brother.” Ryan loathed the gen-
der-fuck mother tongue of Sodom-Oz where brother switched with sister
and he came out she. “And keep your pronouns straight.”
“I have such a hard time keeping anything straight. I’m a poor little
fag.” He tentatively touched Ryan’s leather jacket. “I’m not a heavy-duty
Mister Man like you. I mean I prefer to do my mother’s act.”
“Call your shrink,” Ryan said.
“Who do you imitate? Your big, butch dad I’ve heard so much about?”
“The only one performing an act in our family,” Ryan said, “is Mar-
garet Mary.”
“Honey,” Evan-Eddie said, “we’re all acting.”
“Except,” Ryan said, “when we’re reacting.”
“I love your act,” Evan-Eddie said. “You, a leather queen from Fol-
som Street. Your sister, the Acid Queen of the Castro. Ain’t you a pair of
parodies? You write leather filth. She sings dirty on stage. You must come
from quite a family.”
“Actually,” Ryan said, “we’re cannibals.”
“Margaret Mary said you were Catholic.”
“Catholic cannibals.” Ryan moved in on the boy, half threatening,
half teasing. “We go to mass and communion and eat the body and blood
of Jesus Christ. Then we eat little boys like you.”
“Oh, stop it, Mister Man. Pinch my tits. Make me cum.” Evan-Eddie
pushed both hands together in his crotch and ooched over, pursing his
lips, shaking his luxurious blond hair, making little squealing sounds.
Margaret Mary caught sight of the pose. She held her hand over the
receiver. “Who is he, Ry? Who’s he doing?”
“Fuck,” Ryan said, but he couldn’t resist their little game. He looked
at the undulating boy. “Marilyn Monroe. Seven Year Itch. Holding down
her skirt.”
Margaret Mary signed him thumbs-up.
Evan-Eddie blew him a kiss. “Be my daddy?” he said. “You’re tres fun.
You’d love to spank me.”
“Don’t be perverse.”
“You sound exactly like my father. He hasn’t spoken to me since I was

©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
HOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK