Excerpt from “Walt Loves the Bearcat”
He had never known any kind of love at all. He was the crazy one, the different one, the wrong one.
Too much. Had he ever let another soul near his heart who hadn’t uttered those words?
And the award for phrase most heard throughout his lifetime goes to … You’re too much.
All these years, his cocky-one-minute, feel-like-shit-the-next-minute ass had never dreamed of a satisfactory retort. And drawing blanks was a rarity for his sharp-witted mind.
And you’re never enough! No, I’m just right!
Re-write! the editor upstairs would demand, flinging the weak pages in the air.
“I’m way too much for anyone with a shred of decency to wanna be seen with.”
You see, buddy, I’m a big fat ugly infected faggy nasty dirty sick man. I have sex with fags. I am one of the fags.
Sure, if I’m glowing, people start looking at me with stars in their eyes. Yeah, I can glow like dat. I got dat.
I can whip this body into all kinds a hella shape in the blink of an eye. I can go from fat ass to badass, and the whole world buys it. Just give my obsessive-compulsive, bad fat ass a couple of months to exercise, hold the food.
I can do whatever the fuck I want sometimes. Sometimes, I’m the king of the world. Sometimes, I’m even big league. Until it all vanishes, sometimes so instantly, I can literally feel it leaving my body.
I’m way too much for anyone with a shred of decency to wanna be seen with. Oh, sure, all golden and cool and dreamy on the outside. And I talk one cool and dreamy game. True? I got skillz. I also got loneliness.
I also gotta get off this cliff.
Watch your step. Make sure you’re around for the show. Some kind of newfangled fireworks, skylights.
Can’t you see all the stars in the night sky? Look up. Unless you think you’re gonna lose your balance.
I wanna go home but I don’t know where home is.
Can’t see your way clearly?
Can’t see a damned thing.
Try seeing a blessed thing.
Not even the skylights. They’re not shining, just gleaming, can’t see clearly now, can barely see, can barely remember …
—from Walt Loves the Bearcat
by Randy Boyd