Buckley Fuckley

Maybe Buckley shouldn’t've gone out tonight. His new sweater is cute, but it makes him feel fat. His friends are all awful drunks. They are rubbing their hard dicks on strangers they just met in dark corners while Buckley babysits their jackets and scarves. Beyonce sings. Boys take their shirts off. Faghags become pretty. What a snooze.

Now would be the perfect time to do some coke. Buckley hasn’t had coke in three days. it would be a perfect spot to do it. No one sits over here except for fat girls and drug dealers. A go-go boy comes over to ask him if he wants to order a drink. He is only wearing boots and barely wearing black underwear.

“Where did all your friends go?”
“Away”
“Too bad, the one with the glasses is adorable. What’s his name?”
“Gordon”
“Ew, that’s a fat name! His name is NOT Gordon. You’re a liar!”
“You’re a brat. Get me a captain and coke and put on a shirt.”

He never brought the drink, but Buckley didn’t care. Hot brats like that don’t give a shit about guys like Buckley. Hot brats like that have sex every night with boys they just met and wake up with headaches from all the free drugs they did and forget their baby blue boxer briefs on the floor of some hipster’s apartment before they go home to nap before they go to brunch with all of their hot brat friends. Buckley wants to be a hot brat.

A horribly pasty faggot stumbled over and asked Buckley if he could leave his jacket on the bench next to him. Buckley’s silence was interpreted as an affirmative and the ghost-faced homo tucked his jacket behind the others. Casper scampered off into the throng of sweatty bodies. Buckley started looking through his phone for someone worth texting – jerk, jerk, bad date, faggot, faggot, girl, work friend, jerk, jerk, lame, totally lame – no wonder he was doomed to spend this Saturday in a gay bunker in Williamsburg. All the cool people live in Europe.

Matthew, the adorable friend with the glasses, came over with a slut and started eating each other’s mouths. It would’ve been hot to watch, but he had seen his adorable friend with the glasses eat his own poop on a dare two weeks ago. He wasn’t able to look at him in the same way ever since. The twosome groped and wrangled each other deep into the darkness. Someone’s belt was tossed into the light and Buckley knew it was time to relocate. But where? The DJ booth? The smoker’s patio? Maybe it was time to just go home. Get it over with. End the night and wake up happy.

That hot brat was on stage shaking his rump in the face of a group of juveniles – a sex god to the ‘tween set. Buckley wanted to barf. Wait – Buckley really had to barf. His stomach crashed into his balls and he ran towards the bathroom. A twink with long bleached hair was buying powder in a bag from a Chinese guy and before Buckley could jump to the toilet, he up chucked his thai food and rum. The twink said something bitchy about his Diesel shoes that got covered in half digested chicken satay, but Buckley was doubled over in pain and didn’t care about twinkboy’s fucking shoes.

Buckley slipped in his own bile and landed hard on the floor. He looked up and saw a devil, then everything went black.

Joey Is A Baby Kangaroo 3

Kangaroo Part One. Kangaroo Part Two.

The movie about Edith Piaf was stupid. Joey decided he didn’t want to go to France anymore. Instead, he wanted to spend his last ten dollars on a cheeseburger.

He walked to Westway Diner on 9th Avenue and sat in a booth for four. There was an old man dressed in a sea captain’s uniform drinking coffee. The Sea Captain had about 40 empty packets of Equal littered around his table. Joey wondered how sweet is too sweet. He ordered a burger and ice water from the little brown guy. His shirt was wrinkled and his head was sweaty. It wasn’t that busy so Joey assumed the waiter was doing coke or meth or something. A hot blonde girl and her obviously gay best friend walked in and sat down in the booth in front of Joey.

“Well maybe we can ask Jarrod if he has any. Do you think?” The girl had an annoying, high pitched squeal. She must have been visiting from California.

“No, I wouldn’t let him fuck me. He won’t give us any even if he had it.” The gay guy had a dancer’s body and an innocent face that Joey was sure was a mask.

“Great show tonight, Billy. You are such a great dancer!” That would explain the dancer’s body. Instantly, Joey had these two figured out. She was his bestest fag hag from back home who still had a lingering crush on her gay best friend because it was safe. He had moved away from a small Republican town to follow his faggoty dream of being a dancer on Broadway where he had gotten too involved with drugs and older men. Joey guessed he was 20.

Joey threw a wet piece of napkin at the gay guy.

“What the fuck was that, asshole?” Oooh. A fierce one.

“I just wanted to let you know if you need something, and you don’t feel like fucking Jarrod, I can probably help you out.” Joey thought for a second the gay guy was gonna laugh at him or tell him to fuck off. Instead, the gay guy switched seats and joined Joey at his booth. The girl just sat there with some dumb look on her dumb face.

“How do you even know what we are talking about? You’re crazy, right?”

“No. Just bored.” Joey was telling the truth.

The little brown guy delivered the cheeseburger. Joey asked Billy to pass the ketchup. Billy obliged. The girl got up and, presumably, went to the restroom.

“I don’t have any shit on me, but we can go to my friends place in the West Village. He’s probably singing at Marie’s Crisis tonight. He lives next door.” Joey bit into the burger and could feel the iron nurish his body immediately.

“Ok, when Andrea gets back, we can take a cab.” Billy drank some of Joey’s water.

Joey sat there in silence, eating his meal. Billy whistled a little bit, but Joey thought it was out of nervousness. He could tell that Billy was a attracted him. Billy stared at Joey. Joey just ate. Andrea returned with a fresh application on lip gloss. She marched right up to Joey and introduced herself.

“Hi! I’m An-DRE-ah”

“Hi Andrea.” Joey did not look up.

“No, Ahn-DRE-ah”.

“Whatever.” He took the last bite of the burger and licked his fingers. They followed Joey out to the street and disappeared in a cab just as the little brown guy was dropping off the check.

Joey Is A Baby Kangaroo 2

Joey was the least alcoholic member of his family, which was why it was surprising that his brother was telling him to go to rehab – (no no nooo). Joey lived with his older brother, Andy, in a dirrty loft space in Williamsburg. Andy used the roomy area to host bear and cub sex parties and on those nights, Joey had to find another place to crash. For a free place to sleep, Joey supposed it wasn’t all that bad. He sat up and took his liquor soaked t-shirt off and threw it behind the bed.

“You smell like gasoline, Joey, What the fuck?”
“It’s rum.”
“You’re supposed to put it in your mouth.”
“You just love to tell me that, don’t you?”

Andy was adopted. His alcoholism didn’t come from the family gene pool. Joey’s parents had adopted him before they had Joey because the doctors said they couldn’t get pregnant. After eight years of raising someone else’s kid, Joey came along and surprised everyone. “Mommy’s Miracle”, as he was known. He was about five years old when Andy started making Joey suck his dick.

“Joey, will you help me clean up these cumrags?”
“No.”
“I’ll give you twenty bucks. I got another bear party tonight.”
“OK.”
“It will be over early. I have to work early. You don’t have to stay out all night.”
“Fine.”

Joey planned on using the twenty bucks to go to a movie. The new “rockumentary”, or whatever, about Edith Piaf had just been released. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but Joey was a real big fan of French pop-culture. He always wanted to see the Eiffel Towel and seemed to have a craving for crepes more often than the normal person. Actually, that craving was probably just a food craving. He was always hungry.

Andy was masturbating in the shower, his firm, round stomach was outlined by the steam which was filling up the room. Joey threw the towels in the washer with a shit ton of bleach and went to the deli to get a fucking sandwich and a cold Snapple – The Official Beverage of New York.

Joey Is A Baby Kangaroo

Joey got depressed today. He was hungover this morning and running on 4 hours of restless sleep. He made it to his job only 10 minutes late. They don’t really care if you are late at his colleges library. As long as he had all the books out on the shelf by the end of the day, no one looked a him different. He had to work somewhere while he went to school. Campus jobs were the hot ticket.

The air was thick with sadness. Betty, his boss, broke the news to him, “A girl killed herself on campus this morning”.

“What happened?” He started sobering up. Barely.

“She hung herself in her dorm. Her roommate found her. She didn’t leave a note or anything. She even had a 4.1 GPA. It must have been boy trouble.” Betty was genuinely concerned, but still had a nose for gossip.

Joey had boy trouble too. He would never wrap a rope around his neck. That’s so violent. I mean, if you were gonna kill yourself, the easiest way would be pills. Or if it was possible to kill yourself with pillows and candy, then he would pick that. All day, he couldn’t shake this sense of doom of humanity.

Joey left work and walked past his ex-boyfriend’s favorite coffeeshop. He wasn’t there. Joey hadn’t seen or talked to him for two weeks and he was slowly sinking into a self-imposed social prison. He was going to put an end to that tonight.

With 100mg viagra in his pocket and a flask of Jim Beam, he headed downtown to a sex party that he knew about. It was for “skater boys” and while Joey never skated a day in his life, he definitely cleaned up real nice and looked enough like a skater boy. The best way to shake his recent slide into Bummed Outville was to have angry sex with strangers.

A boyish tweaker stumbled around the room full of boys. He zeroed in on Joey.

“What’s your name?”
“Joey. What’s yours?”
“Tim.”
“Hey Tim.”
“I’m gonna suck your dick.”

As Tim sank to his knees, Joey felt happy. Maybe.