This story is about my friendship with a ghost.
A gay ghost, a cute ghost, but still a ghost.
Don't believe me?
The first time I saw Flynn was last winter. I wondered at the time why he was clad in only a pair of knee length Spandex pants, and tap shoes.
It was freezing, first, and secondly that was like female tramp clothing and Flynn was, a guy. Pretty good looking, sandy hair, he had some abs.
Maybe a tiny pooching pot belly, but not much. And he couldn't have been more than nineteen.
And no one else was looking at him. I was walking across campus at Bolingbroke Christian College, and worrying because my best buddy from back home had written me about his goals in transitioning.
I was very supportive of Colin, but I worried that they opened the mail when it came through, and that could get me expelled.
And Dad had told me with a smirk, "I will pay for you to go to college, only at Bolingbroke Bible College."
Thank God they changed the name slightly from when he went there.
It was mostly a preacher's school then, and Dad was too dumb to become a preacher, and after Mom got preggers, (mysteriously) they dropped out and he sells cars now.
But Dad really wants me to be a preacher! So I am majoring in accounting, but I'm minoring in Bible. That's how they say it here, not "Bible Studies" just "minoring in Bible"
The rule is, everyone has to minor in "Bible" so they won't think they're getting a secular education.
And Flynn introduced himself. "I go by Flynn. Like Errol, you know? I loved him in the pictures."
I never heard of Errol, or whatever. We had a great talk, though. Flynn somehow already new I was gay. But he called it being a "fairy."
How did he know? My pals back home knew, and Dad suspected, I used to have to endure his nasty comments about "homosexuals" and "sodomites".
