The day started pretty much like any
other. I got up, ate breakfast, took a shower, cleaned the bathroom, and got
ready for work. So far so good. I
actually enjoy going to my place of employment, because the love of my life
works there too. His name is Vittorio,
he’s six foot one inch sexy Italian, and incredibly hunkalicious! And I love
him to death.
Vittorio Genovese. Doesn’t it just
roll off your tongue? It does mine, and it gives me goose bumps to boot.
In comparison, my name barely rates
an honorable mention. In fact, I’d rather not mention it at all, but here goes
nothing. Adalbert Klein. Yeah, very Germanic, I know. And yes, I look very
German, with my curly blond hair and my blue eyes, and my incessant need to
clean my apartment every frigging day.
But Vittorio’s so cute! He shortens
my name and calls me Doll. I’m his little Doll, which makes it a play on my
last name, being as it’s Klein. And seeing as I’m only about five foot four. So
it fits on all counts.
Yes, thanks for pointing out that we
must look like the Odd Couple when we’re together. Because I needed to hear
that. But don’t worry about it. When we’re in bed, height doesn’t matter, and
we fit together perfectly.
So back to where I was.
I closed and locked my apartment. On
my way out the door, I greeted my landlady with a big hug and a kiss. Basically
because she’s also my Mutti and I love her very much. “Have a good day, Adal,”
she told me, like she tells me every day. She stood in the doorway and waved,
while I mounted my bicycle; I waved back before I pedaled away on my
penny-farthing.
These bikes are all the rage now; some
people call them Hi-wheels. I just know that I love being up so high. Sometimes
I pretend I’m a zeppelin pilot, like the ones I see overhead. I dream of flying
one someday, but Mutti says no, that won’t be allowed. She’s only looking out
for me because she loves me. My Vati used to fly a zeppelin. His name was Rolf,
and he was a great big bear of a man. He loved me and my Mutti, and he loved my
Vittorio. Ach, when the two of them would get together, there’d be so much fun!
Vittorio with his wine, and my Vati with his beer, and we’d all drink together,
and sing, and… I miss him so much. He died in a freak zeppelin accident. I don’t
blame the airship, but Mutti does. I hope she gets over that soon, but for now
I’m being patient. It’s only been six months, and the wound needs time to heal.
My ride to work takes me exactly
twenty minutes. Every day the same two mile ride. But I don’t mind. I smile at
people I pass along the way, and they smile back at me, because everyone knows
everyone and life is grand.
Vittorio is waiting for me when I
arrive, because he knows precisely when I will be there. He’s waiting on the
sidewalk outside the Arabesque Theatre, and he lifts me from my bike as easily
as lifting a bratwurst from a bun. They can keep their newfangled hot dogs, or
Coney dogs, or whatever they’re calling them. I prefer the taste of German
sausage in my mouth.
Or Italian, when it comes to
Vittorio, but that’s another matter.
The Arabesque is the nicest theatre
in town, and we show the best films. Vittorio is very excited about a new film
that starts today. He tells me there is this very handsome man in it, and when
I look at the poster he’s plastered on the front of the theater, I have to
agree.
The film is called The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. If
this Valentino guy can act half as good as he looks, I think he’ll go far.
Vittorio sets me on my feet, but
only after a proper hello kiss, and together we walk into the theater, walking
my bike between us. And there, waiting for us, is the fly in the ointment. The
imperfection in our otherwise perfect job.
Myron Cornwinkle.
I swear if this was a drama, he’d be
cast as the villain of the piece. He even has the moustaches for it. And he
twirls them in an overly dramatic fashion. I think they’re fake, personally. I
don’t think he could grow a real moustache if he tried, and someday I’m going
to pull those nasty looking things off of his smirky face.
He works at the Arabesque too. Feel
free to boo or hiss whenever you see his name mentioned on these pages. In
fact, I encourage it.
He’s the film projector. I’m the
usher, and Vittorio plays the organ, because of course the films are silent, so
we have to supply our own music.
“Ah ha!” he sneers as we try to walk
past him, twirling those cheesey looking things and attempting to look
menacing. In one hand, he holds a reel against his chest, twirling with the
other.
The trouble with Myron is that he
has this idea he’s in love with Vittorio and that he’s going to marry him. Over
my dead body! Or, rather, over his.
Plus, he also thinks he’s a wizard.
Touched in the head is what I think.
“What do you want, Moron?” I
interject myself between my love and my enemy. I’d love to run Myron down with
my bike, but I don’t.
He doesn’t answer, but pulls out his
“wand” and mutters something, while I tap my foot and wait.
Nothing.
Until suddenly, there’s something.
The entire theatre shakes, and this big colorful ball of light envelops the
three of us and then poof!
When I open my eyes again, I find
myself staring up into the eyes of a Tyrannosaurus Rex!
Nephylim m/m
Sara York m/m
LM Brown m/m
MA Church m/m
Tali m/m
MC Houle m/m
Now that def would be an eye opening experience! LOL, couldn't resist. ;)
ReplyDeleteI'm loving this, can't wait to see where it goes. A dino story--how totally cool!
~M
Wow! I totally love the era you evoked, but I love dinosaur adventures, too. Very interested in seeing where you take this!
ReplyDeleteThis is an early comment but I just wanted to say “Thank You” for letting me be included in your Hop Against Homophobia. I am afraid I am not a talented m/m fiction writer like yourself but I am an avid reader of it.
ReplyDeleteI guess I do not fit into any category really since I write non-fiction for an adult studio. http://shadowsterling.blogspot.com/2012/04/studio-i-write-for.html
But this is a cause I feel strongly about and I wanted to let you know I appreciate the opportunity to be included.