HEAVENLY INTERVENTION TURNS DUDE GAY
There is an outcropping of stone and cement just outside my parent's swimming pool that separates the street, which lies fourteen feet below, from the green security fence. I've live here for 12 years since my Dad bought the place and I'd never seen anything like what happened that morning. It changed my life forever.
I don't like long stories so I'll get right to the point, sitting there in the sun on the outcropping was a Christ-like figure with long hair and beard, striking blue eyes, clothed in some sort of celestial robe. He was gazing upwards at the one lone cloud in the pale blue sky that the wind was slowly ushering across the horizon, a cloud that looked startlingly like a cottony cartoony penis and balls.
I assumed this was some sort of homeless person, although he wore sandals and his robe was not stained. Here in Southern California we recognize the homeless by their broken sneakers and filthy clothes. Now I'm neither a hater of the homeless nor a champion of their rights to usurp public space and set up tents along the streets where they collect untold mountains of rubbish that every week or so gets carried away to the city dump when the police and sanitation services converge on their encampments. But I guess they have to camp somewhere.
"Hey you," I yelled from my window. "Get the fuck out of here. This is private property. You can't sit there."
He didn't answer.
I got up, put on a pair of shorts and my Gucci loafers, actually knockoffs that I got at the flea market, and headed for the back door, which I opened and quickly walked to the edge of the security fence where this Jesus imposter was seated.
"Hey Mister, what are you doing? You can't sit there. This is private property, get the fuck outta here or I'll call the cops."
My parents were away on some cockamamy cruise to Alaska. Who the fuck would want to go to Alaska in the winter?
He turned to me,
"No, my son, this is not private property, this is God's property, and I have come to you this day to free you from all your inhibitions so that you may life freely as a gay man."
Now it was getting personal.
"What are you talking about? I'm not gay. You are crazy."
"No, my son, there is no need anymore to fight it. Open the gate and we will talk and I will bless you and make you free."
"No, you get the fuck outta here, or I'll come out there and throw you off the ledge."
How the hell did he even get up there?
"Ah now you're starting to think, there is no need to use profanity. You're a good person, misguided, but you and I will straighten that out. Besides if you throw me off the cliff you'll end up in prison, or is that what your gay ass is looking for, being a fuck cushion for the sex starved inmates?"
I took a double take and swallowed hard, he was right about that.
"Ok, I'll open the gate but you've got to go."
"Of course my son, go get the key and welcome me inside— inside —inside."
Why did he keep repeating that word, like a mantra, like a hypnotic suggestion?
I walked back into the cabana and got the key to the small gate that allowed one to make entry onto the cliff for the purpose of cleaning up and raking the leaves that accumulated there when the wind blew them in a vortex from the tall trees below.
I opened the small gate,
"Ok Jesus guy, watch your step. Come over here. I'll show you the way out."
He rose gracefully his robe billowing with a gush of wind, and made his way over to me, I touched his shoulder as he passed in front of me guiding him through the gate.
"Ok Mister, now you gotta go. Please."
He paid no attention to me and ambled over to a beach chair set on the cement overlooking the large swimming pool. It was a 1950s pool, quite large and deep, they don't make diving pools any more as no insurance companies will insure them, too many paraplegics racing around on motorized wheelchairs after that one fatal dive that broke their necks.
"Get me something to drink, my son."
