RANDY AND KYLE AT THE MOVIES

RANDY AND  KYLE AT THE MOVIES

By:  Randy Gillis

It’s Saturday night and I’m sitting in front of my computer watching Netflix as Kyle is furiously pacing back and forth by my open office door, his hooved feet clomping like a Clydesdale.  He stops in the doorway and bellows, “You know there’s a pecking order in hell right?  I’m trying to move up, but you won’t help me!”  “What are you yammering on about now,” I asked, without looking up.  “You!” he screamed.  “What kind of gay man sits alone on a Saturday night?”  I finally look at him.  “I’d say the majority, but that would just be a guess and wow, you’re a lot redder than usual.”

Kyle stomps into the office and stands over my shoulder.  “Well, what are you watching?  Tell me it’s porn.  Give me some hope,” he pleaded.  “Bear…something,” I said.  “Oh cool, it is porn,” Kyle sighed.  “It’s not porn but the director has obviously used the same talent pool,” I said.  At that point Kyle actually looked at the screen.  “Oh hooray, it’s a Gay themed movie!  Scoot over,” he squealed as he nudged me to one side.  I hate it when he wants to sit with me.

 

“So what’s this one about?” he asked as he tilted the screen slightly to his favor.  “Well, as best as I can tell, it’s about the lives, loves and losses of a group of old, hairy, out of shape gay men and the barely legal stud puppies who admire them.”   “Ah,” Kyle replied.  “I can see what draws you to this material.”  “I am not hairy!” I screamed.  “And you also don’t have that ‘stud puppy admirer’ problem either,” he added.  Yes, Kyle is a bitch.

 

“See that guy,” I said, pointing at the screen.  “He’s the alpha silver-back bear.  I can tell by the constant half-smile smirk on his face, the braidable gray back hair and the hyper-confident, chest forward gait he uses to propel himself through the first 45 minutes of this film.  He is also the only ‘bear’ cast member with a BMI of less than 35.”

“Wow!” Kyle exclaimed, “A bear-o-phobic gay man.”   “I am not bear-o-phobic,” I protested.  “I find all types of men attractive, but since when does being a bear give you license to live like a pig.  I mean, just before you walked in I was treated to a shower scene, and, by-the-way, this is the kind of gay movie where everyone looks sweaty, even in the shower, where a nice bear couple were engaged in a grotesque tug of war with a third bear they invited into their lives, that ended with urination.  At that point I was lost as to where to put my emotions.  I mean, what does the director want me to feel here?  Is this supposed to make me laugh?  Or is he trying to get me to run out and buy deodorant?”  “You’ve obviously never seen ‘MAKEN BACON III – Wallowing with the Herd,” Kyle retorted.  “Well, actually, I did see about 4 minutes of that,” I confessed with a hint of shame.  “Hypocrite,” Kyle sniffed.   

“Who would have thought,” he added, “that when they were handing out assignments in hell, I’d wind up with a moralizing Mo.”  “Okay, now just hold it right there,” I insisted.  “Why is it moralizing to think that sex should be treated as, oh, I don’t know, maybe slightly higher than a body function?”  “Oh, shut up and watch the movie,” Kyle snorted.

We sat in silence, watching as the plot thickened and the stakes grew higher.  “What is it that back alley leather bars nestled in the heart of the meat-packing district, (which is always the location of these bars regardless of the city) have against climate control?” I asked rhetorically.  “You just can’t walk around wearing that much leather over that much natural insulation without air-conditioning.”  I heard Kyle sigh.  I love slowly chipping away at his patience.  “Everybody in this film looks itchy and I’m having sympathy sweat right now.” Kyle ignored me. 

“Oh, who is that?” he finally asked, pointing at the screen, obviously enamored.  “That’s the, I would guess, 19-year-old incoming freshman at NYU that the alpha bear is in love with and I get the impression that the alpha bear has been coming in freshmen at NYU for a long, long time.  He just has that look, you know, when someone has had way too much sex.  They all look moist with a hint of hepatitis and their auras are a bit crusty.  Or maybe that’s just the gray, head-to-toe 5 o’clock (the next day) shadow.”  “Well, I guess that explains why your aura is dry and smooth as a baby’s butt,” Kyle chuckles.  “Hey!” I screamed.  “I’m just choosey!”   

As the movie progresses Kyle gets way more in to it than I do.  I look over and see him sniffing back tears.  “And you’re crying because?” I asked.  “It’s just so sweet,” Kyle choked.  “Alpha is so distraught over losing his little queerling.”  “Yeah,” I said.  “He is so angst-ridden he can barely make the sex with that stranger in the shower.  I can tell by the way he’s scrunching his eyebrows that he’s devastated.  And what’s the deal with showers in this movie?”  I asked.  “This is the second shower scene in the same movie that’s disturbed me far more than PSYCHO.”  “That’s his rebound guy,” Kyle said, fixated on the screen, “and he’s hot as hell!”  “Well,” I huffed, “by my last count that’s his second rebound guy during the same shower.”   

“Boy!” Kyle barked, “I’ve got my work cut out for me with you.  If you can’t even see the love when it…”  “What are you talking about,” I interrupted sarcastically.  “It’s obvious to anyone watching that this old geezer has undoubtedly found his soul-mate, if soul-mate means through the weekend.”

Kyle leapt to his hooves and stomped to the doorway and stopped.  He spun around.  “You are worse than Katharine Hepburn in The African Queen!” he hissed as he walked out of the office.  “Oh, yeah!” I screamed after him.  “Well, I wouldn’t have slept with Humphrey Bogart (okay, I would have but I didn't want him to know that) so I guess that makes me better than Katharine Hepburn!”