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Comfortable Madness First PDF 4-13-18

The Plan Comes Together

The Plan Comes Together We gathered in the Shack for a cigarette an hour before the sun rose. Darkness hung on the trees like dark robes. Light from the school was dim and distant. Our faces were all black and red from our smokes. No one said anything. At our feet sat bags, one of cutup porn, gay porn, men fucking men and women fucking women, one filled with jumbled dildos. We each had two tubes of super glue. Out front, the parking lot was empty. Every so often, a car pulled in and dropped the kids for zero-hour jazz band. The front door was unlocked. We finished our cigarettes and lifted our supplies and went to work. The halls were a little creepy without the noise of students going from class to class, hanging out at their lockers talking and laughing, shouting and throwing things at each other. Only every third light burned. Soft shadows lay on the walls. We walked to the cafeteria. The room was empty. Not even the food people were there yet. Moving quickly, we got to work. We glued the porn to the table tops. We taped three or four photos to a table. On the seats, we glued the dildos, sticking up like dick-shaped thorns. Whenever a noise leaked in from the hallway, we froze. Not that we thought we’d get away with it, but the rabbit part of us wouldn’t shut off. Once everything was set, we went to Queertopia and hung a banner we’d made. It read: It’s not a lifestyle. It’s an eating disorder. After that we stood in the center of the room and looked around, wondering in the glory of mischief and revenge. This would teach them to taunt us with their scriptures and fears. “The gay agenda strikes back,” I said. Tayla laughed and kissed me. No matter what happened next, for a moment, everyone would know our names.

Object of Admiration Mr. Skarey called us all into his office and we all waited for our turn. We all knew what this was about. This was about the porn and the dildos in the cafeteria. The waves rattled through the school for weeks. Parents called and came in. Parents bitched and threatened. Mr. Skarey had to do something, so he called the most likely suspects. Everyone knew it was us. Coy stopped us in the hall. “I suppose you thought it was funny,” he said. “It was hil-fucking-larious,” Tayla said. “You people are disgusting,” Coy said. We walked away and now we were in the office waiting a chance to tell our story. Mr. Skarey called me in. I sat in the chair near the door. “So,” Mr. Skarey said, “what can you tell me?” I stared at him. “We both know it was you guys,” he said. “No one else…” “Everyone else just plasters our table with hate mail,” I said. “They leave nasty notes in my locker.” “That doesn’t warrant…” “What?” I asked. “Responding in kind?” “So, you admit…” “I admit nothing,” I said. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked. “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “You can’t stop this.” Somehow, Mr. Skarey’s eyes got tired and duller. “Tell folks to mind their own business,” I said. “And then maybe we can get along.” “Is that what you want?” he asked. “No,” I said. “I want a pony.”