Lonely Hearts Chapel

Excerpt from Chapter 3 of LONELYHEARTS 2016, my upcoming campy, surrealish, coming-of-age dramedy novel about a bipolar pansexual at the end of the world.

It should come as no surprise that, after the news of my kiss with Father spread, people–especially other boys and men–began acting more strangely than usual around me. One of the strangest such moments occurred in the boys’ restroom with a boy I call The Lamb. (I forget his name now, but he was a football player whose platinum curls always struck me as lamb-like. Football wasn’t in season, and a half-year without practices had faded his autumnal tan. His fleece was white as snow; and everywhere his teammates went, he was sure to go.)

I was standing at the urinal, attempting to relieve myself. But my mind kept drifting to the thought of how barbaric urinals are; they provide almost no privacy for the private function they serve. The stream had just begun when The Lamb strolled in and sidled to the urinal next to me. He was taller than me, but he never seemed to look down on me; he was taller than most people, actually, yet he seemed to look up to everyone. My stream was dripping to a stop, but The Lamb’s hadn’t even started. He had only unzipped. I could feel his stiff uneasiness next to me but didn’t think anything of it.

I shifted to begin zipping and walking toward the sink, but he leaned down and pressed his face into mine; our lips met. It was sudden, but the moist warmth glued me firmly to the moment. I relaxed into his nervousness. I wrapped my arms around his body and pulled him into mine. Our manhoods touched, then his eyes shot open as he jumped backward. I saw a brief sun-like glimmer in his sky-blue eyes; I swore it was shining from the inside, even though I logically knew it must be the reflection of outside light against his eye. The sparkle almost made me believe in souls, but he quickly bowed his head in shame, zipped up, and scurried away without a word.

I stood there with my manhood exposed, inhaling and swallowing the truth that much of my life had been and would be shaped by the sexual frustrations of other men; this revelation tasted of sweetness but smelled of urine and disinfectant.

Read more excerpts (and soon, the first five chapters) here.

Be gentle; this is only a tentative cover.

Love always,

your Mister