The Games People Play
We’re all gawking at the sight of the FBI agent and the naked Dale engaged in a kiss. I don’t know which is more disturbing—the fact that they’re doing it, or the fact that I’m starting to take these sorts of things in stride. Has this become the fabric of my life?
The other agents turn their heads away from the sight of the train wreck in progress. Maybe it’s in the manual. Under how not to piss off your boss when he’s macking with the witness.
“You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?” one says to the other.
“No, have you?”
“Stupid, that’s not a question, it’s a quote. You’re supposed to name where it comes from. Book, movie, song, whatever.”
“Um, I dunno, I never heard it before.”
Now I’m staring at the second agent in amazement, the kissing duo forgotten for the moment. “What? You don’t know Batman? Jack Nicholson as the Joker? Seriously?” I thought everyone knew that line. Jack Nicholson’s performance is classic.
I guess not, though. Consider the source.
Agent #2 regards me; his face never changes expression. I think he only has one look—stupid. “I think you mean Cesar Romero, sir.” At least he’s polite, I’ll grant him that.
“No, no, no, Johnson, you have it all wrong.” This from the first one. Now I know—Agent #2 is Johnson. Last name, I presume. At least I can tell them apart now. In my head, anyway.
“What do you mean, Johnson?”
Oh great, doesn’t that just figure? Same name. Back to square one. Johnson & Johnson.
Johnson #1 now. “Cesar Romero played the Joker in the TV series. Jack Nicholson played him in the first Michael Keaton movie. 1989. Directed by Tim Burton.”
Wait, that’s my job, I’m the walking IMDB guy. But on second thought, I don’t care. It’s a stupid thing to argue about anyway.
“Oh?” Johnson #2 brilliantly interjects. “I thought that was the guy that died. You know, the one they named the Heath bar after?”
I can’t help but groan aloud. Sonny, who has been uncharacteristically silent, sits up, wrapping himself around me, as he slithers into my lap, his head rubbing against my bare chest.
“Mmmm, I love Heath bars,” he murmurs hungrily.
“No,” Johnson #1 replies, “he was in The Dark Knight. With Christian Bale.”
“I saw that one, I think. Isn’t it the one where the police commissioner looks like Ned Flanders from the Simpsons?”
Sonny chimes in happily. “Okily dokily!” He grins up at me, his purr motor revved up and going a mile a minute.
Can I please just get out of here? I want my life back!
The two Johnsons nod synchronously, before exclaiming, “Gary Oldman!” They raise their hands and high five across the table.
Darting a glance toward the bathroom, I’m relieved to see that Nelson has managed to remove himself from Dale’s embrace and has made him get dressed. I tighten my hold on Sonny, but my fears appear to be ungrounded. Nelson takes a seat on the end of Dale’s bed, and Dale flops behind him, not making any move toward my boyfriend.
So far, so good.
Nelson pulls out his cell phone, punches something into it then slides it back into his pocket.
“Who’s up for Charades?” he asks.
I groan. It’s gonna be a long night, I can see it now. Make that day, it’s barely begun, has it?
Everyone but me chimes in. I’m the lone standout. When they all glare at me, I give in with a distinct lack of good grace.
Johnson #1 goes first. He stands in front of us, and makes a strange revolving motion with one hand, the other remaining stationary. While the others gawp cluelessly, I volunteer the correct information in a monotone.
Johnson nods, then holds up one finger.
“One word,” I supply. Has no one but me ever played this before?
He nods, just before he begins to slowly crumple toward the floor, making a strange noise which sounds like a goose being strangled.
“Um, Batman?” Johnson #2 offers.
“Throw Momma From the Train?” That’s Sonny’s less than stellar contribution. I ignore the fact that that is so not one word and just hold onto him instead, nuzzling his neck.
Finally, Nelson nails it when he identifies the film in question as “Titanic.” How, I don’t know. And what was that noise? Dying passengers?
Nelson’s turn. He takes Johnson’s place, signals for another movie. Three words this time.
I’m so bored, I make a point of looking at my wrist, at my non-existent watch. Sonny thinks that’s hilarious and kisses me sweetly. I guess that was worth it, but I’m still bored.
Nelson has begun to gyrate strangely, moving up and down in a strange sort of motion, which bears a distant resemblance to the Twist, but damned if I can think of a movie that goes with it. “Twist and Shout?” I throw out my only suggestion.
Nelson shakes his head and Dale makes a noise like a buzzer gone wrong.
Next Nelson plops cross-legged onto the floor and begins to make weird motions. He cocks his head, listening for something, then pretends to do something on the floor before him. I have no idea what.
“Are you playing a game?” Sonny asks. I remind him we can’t ask questions, but I admit it’s a good one. It gets me thinking, while I watch Nelson’s continuing pantomime. Listening, then moving. Or listening and placing a piece. I have it, he’s playing bingo.
Let’s put these pieces together. Bingo. The Twist. The Lotus position. A hippie movie? Can’t think of one. Wait. Is he sitting on the beach, maybe? On a blanket? I have it!
“Beach Blanket Bingo!” I cry out, and I’m rewarded for my efforts with Nelson’s affirmation and a big hug and a kiss from Sonny.
Now it’s my turn and I have an idea.
to be continued
Don't forget to check out the rest of the Silver Flashers:
Sui Lynn m/m
Ryssa Edwards m/m
Lily Sawyer m/m
Lindsay Klug m/f
Heather Lin m/f
Join us next week for another episode of Yes He's My Ex and find out what Tim's idea is! Have a great week!