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“You are worthless, a disgrace to my company, and a complete moron, unfit to live and unfit to breathe our air!” Those words pierced my very soul, the same way someone pierces your bare frozen hands with a sharp ice pick in 30-below weather. My chest hurt immensely and I swear I had the largest headache. My hunger died and it turned into diarrhea vomiting right before lunch. I couldn’t control my trembling lips and I immediately shoved my freshly sharpened pencil into my arm, right below the wrist, a quarter-inch deep. My eyes filled with water, my fists clenched, and I smiled partially as I said, “Please excuse this retard, so I can pack my things and go home to kill myself.” My boss’s pissed-off look turned into a bewilderment, a type of pseudo-caring, when he said, “What the hell are you talking about? You have 5 minutes to pack your things and leave. I don’t care what you are going to do after you leave here.” I turned immediately away from him, with my right arm on my churned stomach and my bloody arm on my files, the files of the important client that I spent two years befriending and convincing.
That’s how it was, though – everything I tried doing went to 94.5% completion until my shortcomings or misfortune killed in an instant. When my 7th grade teacher asked me to solve that simultaneous equations problem and I messed up towards the end, Rob and his 4 friends cornered me outside the local park after school and, while holding me against the wall with my arms and legs, stapled the solution to that problem onto my chest with 25 staples. When my father and I were merely miles from the Canada border, my tired arms and eyes made our car veer off the road into a thin pole, which made its way through the car towards my father, severing his left leg. Even my top-rate education seemed to become pointless with my every endeavor. My Dean’s List college achievements in mathematics and my graduate Harvard studies in mathematics meant nothing to me after that woman dragged me into that year-long sexual assault and felony case, which sullied my name across academia forever and made my family disown me. Just imagine hate mail, jeers at the supermarket, and merciless harassment from my boss Todd month after month.
All my life, I imagined myself on the banks of a sea of flowing lotion, right underneath lotion waterfalls and alongside a vast ocean of lotion. This was the best way I could and can explain it. Think the darkest, mysterious, eerie, and evil music playing in this immense world, where you can’t find strength to jump and swim across to the other side, where you think you will find cooperative people and sustenance. You can’t call anyone for help, you don’t see anyone for miles, and you don’t have a physical voice or even the means to communicate. I was told that I had to be able to swim down the Endless River and towards the Evil Realm, but not to swim right into it. Instead, as you swim in the cold, dark, thick waters of the Endless River , you need to jump at the right moment to catch the ladder above the entrance to the Evil Realm, that which contains 50-foot serpentine creatures, colossal water horses, and wide-mouth carnivorous eels that devour food head first. It did take me 7 years to swim painstakingly across 4 stretches of the River, but each time found myself a little behind my starting point and always more lethargic and hungry. The Endpoint, or the gate to the good Great Abyss, came up only once every 3 years out of the thick fog, always seen heavily guarded by sentinel-like creatures standing right at the end of the ladder. When I saw those sentinels, they always had the largest, most oppressing faces clad in half white, half black plastic.
My sales pitch was a disaster, a direct result of the guilty verdict handed down by the Gary County Court . That night, I bawled uncontrollably, knowing that I was ruined irreparably. In the conference room, I began trembling continuously nearly halfway through the pitch, stumbling on important terms and sentences, even horribly messing up the clients’ names. After I was done, I couldn’t leave; my blushed face met the eyes of the others in the rooms, eyes that said “moron,” “vermin,” and “die,” all after years of honest, unappreciated work that expanded the company. My boss pushed me into his room physically and shoved me into his chair while he took off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, getting ready to stream the laser of cold words, facial expressions, and names without giving me a chance to explain how I lost the big case for which he trained me for several months. That day, I went home and found the kitchen knife unusually illuminated by the streak of street light from the window in an otherwise gloomy room and dark outside. The drive home was complicated by inclement raining and winds. The knife cleanly, but sharply and painfully, made small cuts in my arms, spelling out “die” in long, thin letters. I also managed to spell “why” under both of my eyes, “beautiful eyes” according to Mom and Dad at one time. Then, with a heavy heart and a loud cry, followed by “WHY! WHY! WHHHH….,” the knife came at least 2 inches into my lower side. I cried in pain, “WHYYYYYYYYYY.” I then blanked out, almost instantly, when a figure in black behind me hit the back of my head with a baseball bat.
As I purposefully swam into the deep, endless volume of River waters, this 20-foot-long piranha with the body of a black komodo dragon pierced my back with its huge teeth. I screamed in pain, filling my lungs with water, breathing in the cold waters, sending me into shock after drowning in the cold lung waters. But then, it leaped so strongly into the air and dropped me onto land, sliding me off its teeth as I screamed without bound. When I fell onto solid ground, the piranha knocked me out with its arms, saying, “ghiz tawe” over and over in its loud voice. Those words filled me as I blanked out….
I awoke in the hospital, with my wounds mostly healed and my release papers next to me. I felt like vomiting, but my vocal cords were no more. But, then, a heavy surge of blood swept my face. I felt a strong presence nearby, which, it seemed, was holding in my split sides instead of the actual bandages. When I opened my eyes completely and looked out the door, I swear I saw a black man with scales for eyes dart away after looking constantly at me for what looked like a really long second. I did scream again, but then sank in deep pain due to my swollen and sore vocal cords. Dr. Tim came in, saying, “looks like you finally awoke from your surgery, which was unexpectedly but completely successful given a person in our situation.” He continued, “What exactly happened to you? It’s like someone tried to kill you. All we could find at the crime scene was a bloody knife and a large amount of blood. You were fortunate that your ‘friend,’ as he put it, called 911 in time.” “What friend? Where am I?” I replied, not even thinking about what he had just said. “It seems like you weren’t completely alone through this ordeal. This man came by and dropped off these papers for you to read and sign as soon as you could.” I quietly thanked him and then, with my more able right arm, reached over to the papers with excruciating pain and began reading them.
Apparently, my boss gave me a second chance at the firm, with the basic condition that I go back to school to get an MBA for the new job. With a heavy heart, I yelled to the top of my voice and threw the papers on the floor, being sure to throw them right on the freshly mopped section. That instant, I realized that I saw a very funny symbol on those papers and asked one of the hall nurses to pick up those papers for me. I reread the papers and then convinced myself that I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but then my heart stopped beating for 10 or 15 seconds. Under the symbol of the university offering the MBA courses were emboldened words, words that I could vaguely recall but that were nevertheless so striking in their representation. I saw the words “GHIZ TAWE” in capital bold letters right there on the paper, like someone etched them onto the papers in a cool and purposeful manner. I didn’t know what those words were or where they came from, but they perplexed me for the weeks following my awakening and recovery. Little did I know what I was going to find after my hospitalization.
I arrived at Benedictine University approximately 30 minutes before class to find a bevy of young men and women with perfect skin and flawless bodies. The young women had flowing but velvety weaved hair and short, sexy skirts and pants, but the men were very different, so different that He could represent them as their leader and could be mistaken for a god among Jesus and Allah. When I saw Him the first time, I felt the same gut-clenching feeling I had felt at the hospital right after I read those two ghosted words. I proceeded to my first class, Introduction to Business 1, with a very heavy heart. I had already gone through 10 years of undergrad and grad studies successfully. Why exactly did I slip backwards, this far? The day of classes went by smoothly, like a pointlessly simple challenge, and I managed to make a few friends. As I passed through the firs floor of Damen Hall towards my car to leave campus, however, I felt that strong presence make my legs petrified logs of lead. I couldn’t find the strength to walk any faster or any further, placing me right in front of a psychology meeting. I did the only thing I could there – I walked into the room to ask someone to call for a wheelchair to wheel me to my car. My legs were freed from their bond once I decided to walk into that fateful room for some reason, a reason I think I figured out by now. Even before I walked in completely, I heard a loud, commanding voice, a sexy, deep, strong voice demanding a crowd of what sounded like 40 to 50 students. This voice drew me into the room, but its strength prevented me from seeing the source of that voice until I found a seat towards the back of the room. Then, I saw Him, the commander of the troop, right in front of me, the god of men right there, on earth for an unbelievable second time.
From the senseless abyss came roaring from the water to stand erect and over the mountains bordering the Endless River , the Magnificent One jutted out and its head occupied a prime place in the clouds. The visible legs and body were made of the same viscous substance the River was composed of, but were at least 1 mile away from the land my shredded body laid. Its head and eyes were hidden in the dark ether fluid to the north of the River, but I could still make out its small, beady eyes. Then, its mouth opened, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.” The deafening roar of the Beast made the world shake and dip several degrees below the current temperature. I had to shove my fingers into my ear canal for the duration of the roar, and for each of the 10 roars it made. Its last blast caused a deep fissure of the ground underneath, causing quickly and very tumultuously sections of ground to crumble and fall into the murky waters. I fell into the waters with the speed of falling several hundred stories, causing new cuts and blood to emerge over my surface. Underwater, Its legs extended indefinitely, but more currently, It was charging towards me with incredible speed, beating a beam of light that the mountain behind It shone on me at that instant…
He was the most beautiful thing in the classroom, on the floor, among all the new faces I met, and in my experience. Such raw, authentic sexuality and aura surrounded Him and gave him a glow, a glow that was inexplicably multiplied when He opened his mouth. As He spoke, His jaws opened quickly and each word came out with ferocity. His hands and arms moved only vertically and horizontally without any deviation and His strides in front of the classroom were with a straight back and green eyes kept solely on the audience. His beautifully Faux Hawk blond-streaked brown hair contrasted deeply with His clear, white skin that just covered His fine features. Talk about untamed eyebrows enveloping his almond eyes completely and standing in shame and on either side of his sharp, finely cut nose that lead towards his beautiful pink lips. Without any facial hair but a clearly defined hairline void of stray hairs, his smiles and jokes and laughs made the entire room – jocks, blondes, nerds, professors, alike – not smile or laugh in kind, but instead made their eyes more fixed in a trance to the god in front of them. The skin-tight white suit shirt He donned accurately outlined His beautiful chest muscles and characterized his persona – prominent, scrumptious, and full of awe, especially the window to the top of the pecs that was the unbuttoned first, second, and third buttons. His chest cleavage shone through to my eyes, like his pecs drew the ceiling lights and perfectly reflected them to me. The equally skin-tight size 28 dark blue jeans, in addition to the shirt, gave everyone in that room a glimpse of his perfect male curves enclosed in that 6’ 3” frame.
The fact that there were no tables or chairs towards the front of the room gave everyone the deserved privilege of eye-worshipping His bright, long, thin, veiny, and sleek bare feet, which weren’t imprisoned in shoes nor sandals. Apparently, going along with the lesson He was teaching today, He removed his shoes and socks before His lecture and walked along the front of the classroom without them. It was surprising to see that, for a simulation of lying down in bed that required volunteers, there were male students who readily wanted to help suspend the teacher in the air in the sleeping position, both at the level of the head and the feet. When the boys lifted His feet, I said, “What the hell?” to myself. The class saw the soles of His feet covered in dirt from the floor and the students who hoisted up His legs didn’t grab His ankles, but instead full-palm grabbed the bottom of His dirty feet and placed their fingers right in between His toes, like it was their pleasure when it was completely my pleasure! I couldn’t believe that a classroom of different people – boys, girls, tall husky guys, thin girls, and obese Asian people to name a few – all equally worshipped Him. After class, they all shook His hands, a pleasure that I also shared, with the exception of smelling a combination of his cologne and light male sweat and hearing a warm and bold “Thank you for coming to class” from him.
This Middle Eastern god, a perfect cross between the most imperfect Ian Somerhalder, Ryan Reynolds, and Karshner triplets, was equally occupied by the attention-paying students during His office hours, where He often continued the day’s class. The white skin on His face, coupled with the sharp features and prominent but thin jaw, gave Him the impression of the idealized young Greek form, a muscular yet slender, beautiful perfect Greek god. His slender built, firm ass, and V-shaped torso made Him look divine whenever he stood up from his desk chair to welcome you into His office, where he also was barefoot and in his white t-shirt with the long U-neck that made sure his male cleavage was the center of attention, both for boys and girls. In His office, you could smell a combination of His cologne, shirt sweat, and light foot odor, the type that was not as strong as that of a busy athlete but was discernible. His presence, however, always involved a strong weight on my chest and legs, as if it was meant for me to be in His majestic presence. His appearance, most of all, was truly male, truly the ultimate combination of fortunate European genes and acquired effort. The study session for the class at His home better helped me observe this fact.
A classmate announced the study session that was to take place that evening the following Monday. I made a note to myself to cancel my friend get-together and, instead, attend His study session. What was His home going to look like? Did he have pictures of hot, sexy people hanging in his living room? Was his house covered in white carpet, so that visitors had to take off their shoes? Mmm, my how that was a delicious thought, to have to be in the position to see Him walk around in his straight-lined fitted jeans and flex, bend, and stretch His white feet, with the thin metal anklet and the long toes. The day of classes went by smoothly, and 6 pm came by very quickly. The drive to His house was a long one, over a river, through the woods, and then an additional 10 miles away. I did misplace the correct house number, which made me park at the corner of the major district block and made me knock at the 5 nearby houses. The sun still glistened heavily on the streets and pavements, and seeing how I was walking towards the sun, I was afraid I would be very late to the home. I walked up to the red house with the golden gutters lining its top and knocked on the door, remembering to straighten my back, have my hands in my pocket, and greet Him with a hearty “Good evening.” After I knocked and heard soft footsteps, my heart began fluttering and I began sweating profusely, not knowing if I could keep my composure or even prevent symptoms of incontinence until 75. The door opened slowly, and then my head pounded at the sight before me. An old woman with a cat answered the door with a caustic, acidic grimace, followed by “What do you want, wimpy boy?”
I turned away and marched away towards the deep red home nearby, with what looked like a pile of shoes and sandals in front of the door. I couldn’t find the gate or the alley towards the door, so I circled around towards the back way, but then I stopped when He walked towards me from the entrance. The sun shone directly on Him, giving the majestic brilliance of a fiery phoenix. He had on the same U-neck shirt, but this time khaki shorts and brown slippers on. “We were waiting for you, got kind of worried when you didn’t show 30 minutes after time,” the Lord said, putting His arm on my insignificant back as He directed me towards His front door. Once inside, I could see it all: bright, white walls with beige carpeting and pictures on the walls with thick, mahogany frames. However, I was hit with the smell of sweaty feet, the kind you encounter after a tough football game on the hottest summer day. He said, “Please make yourself at home,” directing His hands towards my feet and the shoe and sock rack. “Please also remove your socks – you don’t want you mess those white socks up, do you?” He directed me to his armoire next to the door, where He sat me down. He then, on His knees, rolled up my jeans, removed my shoes, and then paused for a moment with his face a foot-and-a-half above my ripe socks. “You must have had a long, busy day, haven’t you?” “Yes, sir, I have. You do not have to take those off for me, sir. You are too kind.” Nevertheless, He peeled off my soaked socks and tossed them into the sock hamper next to the door. “I will give you a clean, new pair on your way out, son,” said the beautiful god, dusting off my feet and placing them onto the floor and off His lap. “Many of you, and many guys generally, live all stuffed up and very unrelaxed, even though you go to bars and the streets to hang out and relax, you think. It’s important that, in your home or a guest’s, to come in and make yourself at home. You should always, as much as you can, take off your socks and let your feet feel the comfortable world around it. Wouldn’t you want your hand to be free and cool instead of clogged up and hot in gloves during the dog days of summer?” With all that said, He welcomed me into His house by embracing me and kissing me on the cheek. “Welcome, brother, to my home. I give you a kiss to show you that this is your home.” With that said, He kissed my hand and, taking my hand, guided me towards the living room, where 25 boys and 6 girls lounged and were talking with each other.
Not only were these people young and pretty, but they were barefoot and in the most interesting of foot positions. The girls all were on the floor and cross-legged, while the boys were on the couches or fold chairs, with their feet either on the table, on the couches, or on the floor flexing and stretching in comfort. “See how relaxed and happy they are in my home, on their first time?” Then, the King began the study session when He said, “Thank you all for showing today. We will begin our review of the modes of comfort and perception right now. The girls will remain here with Kathryn, while I will take the boys into my bedroom.” The girls all cooed a sexually inspired, “OOOOh,” followed by whistling. That didn’t freeze or stop Him or change His facial and body stance, which made all the boys proceed faster towards Him. He took all us boys into His bedroom through the hallway, up the stairs, and just around the sweet-smelling corner. He turned and opened His door to a world that could only be described by words like “Lancôme,” “Perfection,” and “Bed, Bath , and Beyond.” His room had strong brown walls and ceiling, a dark mahogany dresser and bed frame, a large king-size bed, a prominent mirror over a long table with a face cream, hand/foot manicure tools, hair product, and air fresheners. “I ask that all of you find a place either on my bed, the floor, or one of the fold chairs around the room.” The mob of sexy boys walked in all at once, almost fighting towards the bed, those defeated moving towards the floor or grabbing one of the fold chairs.
“How many of you have a special male friend who consistently runs the additional mile for you?” Three-fourths of the boys raised their hands, and a few of them that He picked gave their explanations. “My best friend Matt always meets me up at Benny’s so we can check out the girls and have drinks ‘til slightly after 8 am . He helps me forget that ugly encounter with my oppressive Dad and even that time I was rejected from Harvard.” The slender, taller kid with long feet with one bunion then raised his hand to share his story. “I play basketball after school with a gang of friends and I have tight friends up in science class who make class entertaining, but I don’t have that really helpful study partner or that friend who will press my aching back.” His drivel sparked a general laugh, a laugh that was enough to make Him stand up and take instant control of His male class. “Now, have any of you looked to your best friend or friends for emotional help? Have you ever cried literally on his shoulder? Have you shared all of your feelings with him?” The first kid quickly said, “You mean, share feelings like a girl? Just because my voice doesn’t have that entirely deep aura doesn’t mean I’m pumped with estrogen!”
The boys burst out in a hearty chuckle, enough to make Him extend His arm out to silence the boys. “Excuse me? Why the hell do you have feelings? Why do you want to repress your rejection from Harvard?” “Well, I worked my ass of in high school in different clubs and AP classes, getting ranked number 40/1003 in the whole school, and I still didn’t get in.” “But, you remember that we spoke about the ‘crime’ of trying to repress hurtful memories instead of dealing with them in the most open manner. Did you have slightly low grades in significant classes, near-minimal standardized test scores, or anything else that you have a hunch that brought your chances down? If so, spill them completely for us.” The kid’s face turned into a hint of bewilderment, oddly enough, and his voice relaxed in tone and he surrendered his post. “Well, it’s not fair –”
A pause of about 15 seconds passed gradually as he mustered up the words and strength to explain his, what seemed to be, prior ordeal. “Well, uh, well, uh, it’s like this. Every time I tried to do the best I could, whether that be in the science fair, math team, academic decathlon, debate, or student counsel, something always got in the way. Coming in second place was so unfair, like God wanted me to lose and he scratched up my project on purpose. How was I supposed to stop that person from invading my house and ruining 2 years of my life building it? My friends, sure, said how sorry they were, but ultimately I was alone.” “Do you all see the pain he felt and continues to feel? He needed a strong male friend to come to his aid. We men are made strong, focused on building prosperous lives, and, most of all, made for the care of others, especially other men. We could only build earth’s first civilizations with the loving and commitments of our brethren. I will say this again – you must explore your hurt completely with your true male friends. Jake, I want you to come to the front of the room right now.” Jake, now building a full-bodied tear, came up and stood in front of Him, seeming like half a man in front of the Guardian. “We must embrace each other physically and emotionally and seriously. Never ever let an opportunity go where you express love to each other.” With those bold words, He hugged Jake and gave him a strong kiss on the cheek, and then one on his forehead. “I want all of you to do the same to him. Tell him how sorry you are, but also what you will do for him.” Jake started at His left end, with the boy with pecs built into his shirt so that the shirt wouldn’t tear from his rippling chest. Yes, the boys very much hesitated at the beginning, but then did manage to hug Jake. “I also want you to hug Jake for about 5 complete seconds and kiss him sincerely. Take your time – don’t pass him around all of you like an insignificant piece of crap. Don’t anyone dare make light of his situation.” Jake received hugs and cheek kisses, but also advice and offers of help, like, “I’ll treat you to Bennigan’s” and “If you want, we can take a walk in a park and talk, whenever and wherever you feel like.” It was so beautiful to see the smiles and contorted faces turn serious and saddened as Jake continued to pour out his feelings and mishaps. “George, do you have anything to offer to Jake? You are last, but definitely not least.” “I don’t want to upset you, but I can’t help a whiny, prissy, gay boy feel any better. Why don’t he try buying a new detergent and washing all his clothes with it?”
No one dared to laugh after seeing His mad face. “Excuse me? Where does whiny, prissy, and gay come from?” “I mean, just look at him. Men don’t bawl. Also, who tweaks their eyebrows, wears tight shirts, and complains all the damn time?” “Good points, Tyrone. Let’s talk about them. Now, does Jake tweak his ‘brows for them to have definition, the same way a girl might do them?” “Well, yeah, but girls do that, not guys.” “But girls also wear ear rings, however you see Michael Jordan and Lebron James donning them as well, some of the most manly men there are. You, for instance, also choose to beautify yourself when you wear what you believe are ‘nice-looking’ shirts and pants. The Calvin-Klein polo and the slacks look wonderful on you, by the way. They, in addition to your haircut, bring out a sharpness quality in you, wouldn’t you and all of you agree?” The boys did agree to this point, also clapping and laughing with, and not at, Tyrone as he also agreed and smiled. “We all have different levels of expressing our feelings, but remember that we discussed how feelings are a portal to means to better ourselves? Our feelings drive us to make the best, and worst, decisions and strengthen, or weaken, those key relationships in our lives. You, Tyrone, need to accept, embrace, and love Jake for who he is. Now, Jake, why exactly does ‘cruising for girls’ do for you?”
Jake replied, “Well, I just want pussy!” His eyes carved out a greater portion of His face when He heard this answer. “Samson, are you all about sex? What about deeper appreciation for those around you? Why, you hang out with Drake, Will, and Kelly just about all the time, right? What exact purpose do they serve for you?” Samson paused for nearly a quarter of a minute, looked at the floor, specifically at His bare feet, now rubbing each other in front of the eyes of the other men. His feet shone brightly in the whole mahogany room, a testament to the power He yielded. “Well, I meet them just to play some ball sometimes. Sometimes, we just share some of our crap and then we hit the bar occasionally, departing from each other when we arrive up the poop chutes of different girls.” He paused and He thought of that answer. “So, you and your friends merely serve as chit-chat buddies? Do Drake, Will, or Kelly ever talk to you about your meth problem or your financial difficulties?” “Why the hell would they do that? Who cares about that stuff but me?” “I do! Someone who truly and deeply cares about you will. Men, why the hell won’t you care deeply enough about your brethren to talk these things through?” No fucking person said a thing. No fucking person made a sound, but they all looked at the ground. I felt that justice was going to be done very soon, like the moment when our Communist and fundamentalist dictators and rulers succumb to Western ideas and democracy. I could feel my own shackles come down, shackles that have plagued and ruined my life and that were going to be destroyed through the beautiful power of brotherhood. “How did I greet and love each of you when you entered my home? Did I not caringly remove your footwear and make you comfortable here?
“Didn’t we hear just last week how Johnson admitted life became so much easier, financially and morally, when he moved here and back to his family after spending an awful time in that terrible dorm situation? Why can’t any of you realize how truly majestic and beautiful it would be if each of you deeply cared for each other? I am not talking about sexually pleasuring each other, if that’s confusing you at this point. I want all of you to see this heart-breaking video of my best friend, Marvin. Observe and understand exactly the heart-breaking part of his life.” He placed a DVD from his sock drawer into his television and began it after dimming the lights and passing around glasses for water or other drinks on his dresser. The tape began with a beautiful portrait of Marvin, a hunky thirty-something beauty. The film had tidbits of his childhood and his parents cradling him with some of the most beautiful music you could hear. Then came his graduation from Stanford University , where he gave a keynote address and was commended for his work in sociology. The boys yawned, but that quickly stopped right after this part of the film. Marvin gave a motivational talk at one of the Boys’ and Girls’ Club to a large group of high school boys and girls, presenting them with a $10,000 check for their various causes and embracing some of them. The children yelled, screamed, were blatantly ecstatic, and flung their arms so that they could get a piece of Marvin. Oh, did my heart leap with joy, seeing how so many people loved him for his efforts. Shortly thereafter, a man named Derek introduced himself as one of Marvin’s best friend and embraced Marvin. Both were in shorts and were barefoot in a nicely decorated apartment. Derek and Marvin then wrestled with each other, each grabbing each other’s feet, tickling them, and then kissing them lovingly. Derek then said, “Thank you, baby. I love you so much. I can’t thank you enough for yesterday. I don’t know how it all happened. The snow must have killed my car battery – why else was my car not starting? I really needed that job and had to go to that interview, and you, oh my God, you left your afternoon classes right in the middle to come and save me.”
He kissed Marvin for 5 seconds on the lips and Marvin just smiled and said, “That’s the endpoint, Derek. That’s what we need to do.” The next clips showed Marvin’s other Samaritanic deeds, deeds that no one here took lightly by avoiding or paying less than full attention. But, then I and the others broke down in tears at what we saw. Police surveillance of a lot behind a Chipotle showed clear images of two individuals huddled against a wall. A poor man wearing torn clothing and a beard was embraced by Marvin for what seemed like 5 minutes. The man dropped his sack of what looked like his belongings and Marvin got on his knees to pick it up. Marvin then gave him the sack and gave the poor man a pat on the leg, assuring him that he didn’t have to thank him. Then, two men in huge black sweatshirts and pants walked up slowly behind Marvin, taking near 10 minutes, probably not to startle Marvin and the poor man. What happened afterwards made me cry aloud, made every single person fall down. The poor man ran away from the scene, not appearing to have warned Marvin about the danger ensuing behind. Then, that deafening sound, that heart-wrenching sound of one of them forcibly pushing Marvin into the wall, creating a huge head gash. The other man said very clearly, “Tim told us to take care of you. Why didn’t you take that ransom note underneath your car hood seriously? Tim wanted that money, faggot. It doesn’t matter that you’re a saint: you were chosen to be Tim’s victim that day.” Another nasty blow, this time a punch from a hand with knuckle brass, to his face, creating a thin stream of blood and Marvin’s neck making a full rotation.
Marvin fell quickly to the ground, alone seemingly, although the camera did cover a signal-light stop. “That time you fell on your knees and prayed for a friend, pathetic. What the fuck were you thinking, asking ‘all powerful God’ for help? Dipshit!” A painful kick this time into his side, his painful loud moan apparent blocks away. “Stupid shit. Asking over and over for someone to spend time with you! That wouldn’t have stopped us from killing you!” I cried and said “stop” this time. Tears came down His eyes, down those beautiful, mighty cheeks and outlining those jaws. “Let us help you with your depression. Allow us to make a deep impact in your life.” I turned away right then. A fucking tire iron swung and broke Marvin’s face right there and then. Everyone cried at that point, covering their face with their guilty hands, even turning away from the screen, faces red and wet. The next scene showed Marvin in a hospital, with his face reconstructed as much as possible. A hot face turned into a hideously disfigured mosaic of mismatched skin and missing facial bone. Moments later, He asked only the brave to see the next and final scene. Marvin’s dead body lay on that autopsy bed, head and neck flattened and crushed and open for full view. His body was covered in dark spots and deep red sections, so unsightly and so ungodly. With a heavy heart, He said, “They found his corpse right on the train tracks on Monroe Drive, about 50 miles north of here. They found a suicide note…” He burst into tears right then, but continued on.
“Who the fuck thought Marvin was merely at the wrong place at the wrong time? Who thinks Marvin needed much more love than what he gave to others through his entire life? Why the fuck would it be so wrong if one of his friends kissed him, hugged him, held his hand to walk with him in public, and become Marvin’s most dear friend, possibly to save his life? Why is it so hard for you guys to show that type of love to each other, especially this evening?” Then the God took my hand, made me stand to my now cold, numb, bare feet, and then continued His speech of justice. “Look at how beautiful he is. Just look at him, how handsome he is. His perfect facial features, beautiful skinny face, hair, blue eyes. How many of you see what I see?” About half of the men there freely raised their hands, a compliment that shame in front of what was to come. “Before you all leave, you all should put your hands on this fine, beautiful young man, kiss him, and invite him over to your place and learn about his life.” The jacket of hurt, of others condemning me, finally began to lift off and allowing others to see me beautiful. “He is so beautiful, everyone. His slight frame, so beautiful. Feel that chest. Think of how much he could be hurting on the inside, but possibly not himself even knowing he harbors any pain. I, for one, have invited him for dinner here in about a week. What will you do for him? What will YOU do for him?”
The King then held my hand, kissed it, and said, “I’m here for you, baby. You are like a son to me. Don’t ever hesitate to ask me for help. Don’t isolate yourself from caring people like me and become another Marvin. You with me, boys? Don’t you feel proud today that you can become integral parts of each others’ lives? Don’t you feel extremely happy that today you are loved by so many more caring people?” The other boys then clapped joyously, for me! I cried again, and this time four or five guys came up to me and hugged and kissed me. It was so beautiful, so teary-eyed beautiful, the perfect model of love for the rest of the world. Then, He placed me on the bed and surrendered Himself to me in front of everyone. “Please, boys, don’t ever, ever hesitate to love your dearest friends. Love even those who hate, despise you.” With that said, He gently and with one finger ran the entire length of my jaw, saying, “You have a very sexy jaw. You are so beautiful I would even kill myself in the fastest, most painful way if I had to to be able to know, love, and care for you.”
“Jesus knelt on the ground for mankind and subjected himself to others as the perfect symbol of love. Why can’t we all follow that example literally?” With those words, he got down on his knees and placed my left foot on His lap. He sat on the floor with His legs crossed, His feet pointing outward now. “Everyone, isn’t his feet beautiful? The shape of his feet, so slender and long, with perfect toes and arches. You guys should really start paying attention to male feet and realize their power as they hoist their men on God’s Earth.” He took my foot into His hands and kissed the top at least five times in various places. Then, He lowered His head to my toes and smelled them for about a minute. “Beautiful, everyone, just beautiful.” My feet were already a bit sweaty due to placing them on the warm carpet in the already heated room. I thought, “Oh crap, He’s going to vomit if He uses His mouth.” Nevertheless, He stuck out his tongue and began massaging my pink, sweaty toe. Apparently, He thought my toe jam was tasty, keeping His tongue there for the longest time. He kissed my toe over and over again, going back and forth with small kisses and sucking action between the top of my white feet and the bottom of my sweaty toe.
His hands now pleasured my feet with a massage and an ankle massage. It was like ecstasy without the cocaine, I fucking swear. I was being empowered finally, in front of what seemed like the world. Right then, all my toes went into His mouth, getting swished back and forth with His warm saliva. Fuck, His tongue and lips pulsed my toes and cleaned out the lint that I would have had to clean in the tub after a hard day. Then, my foot all wet, He took out his tongue and ran the length of the dirty underside of my feet. The boys had either disgust, plain, or excited faces, more of the disgust just when He started with the underside of my feet. The tip of His tongue felt like a soft dart dotting every square centimeter of my feet, slowly turning into sucking my feet. He then pressed His face on my feet and massaged them with His face, His cut, defined face. Felt even better than getting rimmed and sucked at the same time. “I want one person to show him your love.”
Jake immediately fell to the floor and kissed my feet, but He immediately halted him and raised me to my now soaked, worshipped feet. He gave His now too familiar quick mouth kiss, a soothing and completely allowed, uninhibited-even-in-front-of-homophobic-fundamentalist-terror-imposing-on-fags move that completed my journey into hell all those years ago. “I hope all of you have learned today to love more, but more importantly what true love to your fellow man means and how it should be shown in order to help others avoid the abyss. Brotherly love is our ‘ghiz tawe,’ our ‘endpoint,’ our means to perfection and personal excellence.” I developed tears again, I don’t know why. As we all left His room, He gave us cheek-kisses, to which we all reciprocated and happily left. We all truly changed, but I beat them all in the end. They couldn’t have become as successful as I became just a few years later.
Yes, I was trapped in the murky, cold waters of the Endless River for the longest time, but what happened next no one can explain, I think. Better than when I served overseas in Iraq, better than when I lost that job, better than when I missed than gunshot pointed right at me, this experience He gave me was the most illuminating, most helpful, most impactful, and, in the most literal way, most life-shaping. Yes, the Endless River sent me down a painful path, almost to ultimate suffering. I was torn into and bloodied in that white world and, ultimately, I did drown an hour after falling into the Evil Realm and having my body torn into pieces by those ugly creatures, but out of that turmoil life embodied me. My new life came, ironically, from the Colossal God, whose hand sent forth a beam of lightning right for me. My body reformed perfectly and I found myself floating in air near the top of a mountain, rising ever so quickly above this mountain. Now, those creatures were no match to me, because I was too strong, beyond their potential attacks. My life became so perfect a few years after I met Him, after He gave all of us those deep life lessons, and after He demonstrated the perfect form of love for us, the most undeserving of all. In fact, you could say that I “got a raise,” but not in the way you might think.
I was given a position as professor of business, thanks to that MBA and further training, and made a few truly beautiful friends. I now knew what a true, loving friend was. Not someone, for once, who just helped with the hot dogs and coke and bolted when I needed someone to pay my rent and bills, which happened many times in the past. Not someone, for once, who didn’t want to hear my deep sorrow and desire for a better job, a better life. Finally, someone who hugged and kissed me, who held me, who massaged my back, who wanted to spend 4-5 hours in his home listening to my feelings and helping me with my life goals. The money for me finally raked in, in six figures to be more precise, thanks to my appointment in both the undergraduate and graduate schools and my advisorial and dean positions. I couldn’t fucking do any of this without true love, a love that transcends the sexual in the most unrealistic ways. My partner Bill was the love of my life and was the instrumental figure in the rebuilding AND stabilizing of my new life. We shop for groceries, walk in the park, and do other things holding hands in public, kissing in public, and expressing our love in public. I turned down a handsome guy a year earlier simply because he absolutely refused to express his love the way I wanted him to, and Bill just came in a way better package too.
Now, I help others find their way to a life full not only of love, but of ambition, dynamic control of life, thrill-seeking, and true friendship. I recently brought home a newly made friend named Seth, who, you could say, was the most uptight, insecure, cute, tall, swimmer’s body, and “straight” guy you could find, because he had expressed how unhappy he was. He had a girlfriend, a great job, and money, but he wanted to be appreciated more. He wanted someone to serve him, instead of serving others all the time for once. He wanted to split from his seemingly controlling girlfriend and wanted a “better” job, which I took to mean possibly “more rewarding” or “more paying.” I brought him home one ugly winter day, from a rather tough day at work. You could see that he was vamped out, drained, red and sweaty from running around all day, and tired from the usual. He entered my home and said, “Wow, how the hell did you manage to buy such a fucking huge pad? You have a lot of nice things and it’s so clean.” I said, “Thank you, but I’m going to make it your home right now, alright? Please make yourself completely comfortable and at home.” With that, he proceeded to walk in, until I stopped him. “Well, let me get your coat. Do you want to wash up? The bathroom is upstairs. I’m going to get you a glass of water.” “Wow, thanks a lot. But you don’t have to be my servant!” “No, Damien, I like you a lot and want to make your stay here wonderful, for once. You deserve so much. Why don’t you kick off those shoes?” “Thanks a lot, but I keep my shoes on.” “Damien, you need to relax today at my home. I want you to have dinner and stay overnight right here, away from your lonely apartment, fresh-delicious-home-cooked-meal-less apartment. Please remove your shoes and let me make today a comfy one.”
Damien proceeded to kick off his shoes. “Damien, why don’t you shower up? You look drained, bro, too drained if you ask me. Believe me, you will feel 40% better just doing that. Go ahead and throw your socks into the hamper and I’ll even throw in a fresh pair your way for free!” “Alright, you make a good point. You’re a great friend. My parents, friends, or girlfriend never extended a hand out to me like you have.” Damien then gave me one of those straight-guy hugs, which was, at least to me, so heart-warming and fulfilling. I mean, that hug was good enough an experience for my entire life at that moment. “Thanks, bro. When I call you bro, it’s not just ‘cause guys do that to each other. I really mean it. If I’m not going to lend a hand, I’d rather kill myself. Now, c’mon, let’s take you upstairs to the washroom.” We walked up the stairs, a drained Damien and me marching up those stairs. It was too bad Bill wasn’t going to be home for another few days, ‘cause he could have met Damien. Still, I had this mission, to save Damien from his demons. “Go ahead and put your clothes there, shower up, and use this undershirt and undies. Thank God we are the same size, huh?” “Thanks, dude, a lot.” “Yell when you are done.” “Sure thing, but could you fetch me a pair of socks?” “Well, you don’t need them today. You are going to let your feet breathe the air it was intended to breathe. Besides, you look gorgeous as it is without the socks, don’t you think?” “Well, yeah I do. You are a very intelligent man!”
Damien took about 15 minutes to shower, and then he came downstairs and met me at the fireplace. “Well, don’t you feel 40% aliver?” “Yes, you were right. That smell, however, is putting even more life into me right now. What the hell are you cooking for old me?” “Well, you’ll know when I show it to you…” Right then, the doorbell rang, and it was my good friend Ken. “Hey, I decided to stop by to say ‘hi.’ It’s been, like, 4 months or something, right? Boy it, like, smells like, like turkey, doesn’t it?” “Come on in and have dinner with me and my good friend Damien.” Ken walked in and shook Damien’s hand and then we all proceeded to my couch area. Ken sat down next to me while Damien sat across from us. “Wow, it’s been so long. I’m glad you were home.” With that, he kissed my cheek and hugged me, but one look at Damien made me feel like he was perplexed. “Damien, what’s wrong?” “Oh, uh, well, uh, is that what you do? Are you two…, well, uh.” “Damien, what do you mean? Oh, you mean the ‘kiss’ thing? Ken is a beautiful friend of mine and we do love each other a lot. That’s why I did it. No, we are not lovers, never were.” “Oh, I see. Cool then, I guess. I was just caught by surprise.”
“That’s absolutely fine, I see where you’re coming from. Damien, my success in life was because of people like Ken here. He has such a special place in my heart, and it’s love between friends like this that made me liberated from my evils. I love you so much as a person that I invited you over here, gave you a bath, and fixed you a dinner. You see what I mean?” “Yeah, I guess so.” “Great. I have something for you, incidentally. You know that watch that broke a few weeks ago? Well, what do you think of this instead?” I gave him, out of the box, a new and better watch, a watch that says, “The only way you can pay me back is with a brand new car.” “Oh my God, you brought this for me. NO! You are just giving away a broken one or something.” “Yeah, you’re right. My best friend scratched the back of it. Why don’t you check out the back and see what I mean?” An unexpected Damien chuckled a little and flipped it over slowly, like he was expecting a prank from me to him, but what he found turned him into butter. It was an inscription that read, “To Damien, a beautiful friend who deserves so much more, Love, Robert.” “Oh, wow, oh my God…” He grabbed me hard and stayed there for 7 seconds and I embraced him as well. “See what I mean, Damien? Love between friends is what we all need.” I kissed his shoulder, and he just kissed me on the cheek back! “You really are beautiful, Robert. It’s like I’m going to cry, because I’m going to go back to Crapland at my place, leaving heaven here.”
“No, you can turn it all around, Damien. Don’t make your life crap when it doesn’t have to be. I’m now here for you. You know what, Damien? I keep telling you this and you, I think, never ever got this. You never had friends that you could truly depend on, but I don’t think you ever attempted to develop a close relationship with another man, an earthly brother if you will. Just look at Ken here, and just listen to how I see him. He is so beautiful on the outside. He is smart, sexy, handsome, beautiful smile, perfect teeth, clear skin, vibrant and alive hair, and is well-dressed. Now here comes the surprise about him – he is a terabillion times more beautiful on the inside, and that is what I have fallen in love with, Damien. Have you ever wondered truly why you love Superman and, for that matter, why hundreds of men love him? It’s because he represents male beauty in all forms and you might have never realized it until I brought it up just now. He cares for others, at such a tremendous cost. He is also physically beautiful, don’t you think? No one will ever make fun of him because he wears his briefs on the outside of his pants and because he wears a cape and bright red and blue! Because he is so beautiful! With all of Ken’s beauty, hospitality, true friendship, and love, I do him a great injustice by simply kissing him here.” I then kissed Ken’s hand in front of Damien, and Damien this time smiled. I then reached over and kissed Damien’s hand. The transformation in Damien was quick, but noticeable in his face. The evening, however, wasn’t even close to turning. A lot more transformation took place – it’s just not documented yet, but it could be.
Ken removed his shoes and socks, just in the nick of time while Damien and I stared at his beauty. I slowly placed his legs on my lap, folding his jeans up so that half of his bare leg was viewable in all its glory. I put my now beefy hands on the tops of his sweet-smelling feet, drawing my face near until my nose was deep in the bottoms of his feet. Damien’s eyes DID NOT MOVE – whose eyes could trail from such a sexually charged moment on an expensive couch? “His feet smell so authentically male and beautiful fresh out of his shoes. He is just so beautiful.” After saying that, I looked into Ken’s eyes, reached for his beautiful cheek, and stroked his face. I kissed the bottom of his feet, massaging each toe with the same amount of energy, slowly, steadily. “Have you ever worshipped another man like this, Damien?” Damien snapped out of his trance and said, “No, but this is, well, all too much.” “Damien, please smell them, touch them, kiss them.” I guess the thought of that was most unexpected to Damien, but nevertheless I confronted him with the opportunity to achieve transcendence, because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be a true friend to him. With an initial but shortlived reluctance, Damien did walk over to where we both sat and Ken reached out to him, giving him a pat on the back and a huge, beautiful smile. Damien planted one kiss on the top of Ken’s right foot. “Isn’t Ken fucking sexy? Isn’t kissing his foot so nice?” Damien agreed completely, a moment that confirmed that his story, his life story, finally was getting better, adding on a chapter of inspiration and deep learning and discovery.
Damien’s story is very long, arduous, and enlightening, but it involves hurdles and hurt, not like those I have encountered, but just like those that straight boys encounter as a result of this world’s misunderstanding of what a man should feel, act like, and think. Straight boys should not grow up and be conditioned by society to be insecure, constantly feeling the need to demonstrate his manhood to others. Nor should they always be on the prowl for girls when they should learn to bond closer with other men and, as a result, become exponentially better men and better, more loving friends to other lost men. I want, in the future, to start an organization where I and others can fulfill this vision of mine, to educate other men into becoming more loving, caring, responsible, conscientious, intelligent, ambitious men and be a real force in reducing hostility in the world caused by ideological differences, reducing violence, helping others see the need to give to others, encouraging the necessary expression of love between two men, and helping the world accept homosexuality, among other goals of mine.
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Please send me feedback on this story and feel free to really start a serious discussion with me. My e-mail addresses are gaypenischess@yahoo.com and chessburns69@yahoo.com. I will continue documenting incredible, powerful stories and thoughts if I know that there are people out there who truly appreciate them. The lessons I have learned are forever real, forever impactful, and forever reaching. I hope I have reached you today and I hope you can reach others. I hope you care enough about me as I have about you to send me a touching story about yourself and a description of your own deep desires.
Until we converse online, much love.
