Mar 9, 2011

Billy was a Rock star





It was one of those days that just seemed surreal. Like the whole time there were pieces of reality coming and going all around you. The sounds were a little different, as were faces, and what was happening. One of those days where you just shake your head and say huh? My roommate and I were watching Buffy, as was the usual for us on a Tuesday night. We locked the doors, turned the ringer off on the phone, shut the blinds, and lived in darkness for those 60 minutes. People knew not to call, stop by, knock, or make any noise in our vicinity.

This is just how it was; we took our Buffy very seriously. So you can imagine our annoyance when there was a pounding on the back door.  At first it scared the crap out of us, and then annoyed the crap out of us when we realized that it was Chris and Mary our neighbours. They knew what day it was, they knew not to come over, they were breaking one of the Shelly/Jennifer commandments. This was not good. Had one of them been bleeding, maimed, twitching, or even had a fearful look, we may have been less annoyed. Unfortunately, they were laughing, so fully annoyed it was.

Then we saw that they had Angelica and Tina with them and were peering into one of the neighbours’ upper windows, pointing and laughing. Jennifer and I decided to see what was going on, we taped Buffy anyways, that way we could watch and analyze it later, we were lame, I know this. As soon as we opened the door, we heard a woman scream, "Billy you’re a Rock star.” Followed by a "Yeah baby say it again" This brought lots of laughter from the gaggle of lesbians and I.

I looked to where they were all staring as if Jesus himself were giving baking lessons. Then I saw what had made them laugh. In the bedroom of one of our new neighbours there were two people having some major monkey sex. They were all over the place and not shy at all. I gathered this was what exhibitionism was all about. I made a mental note to never do that.

It went on for some time, and the sad part was that we stayed out there and watched and listened. We had food, smokes, and were acting as if this was a totally normal social event. Every now and then you would hear a new turn of phrase about Billy, "he's a rock star", "a stud", "he rocks", all kinds of things. Billy was less creative and mainly stuck with saying "say it again babe" After a while I realized that of the six people there, I was the only straight one, and that I was not as into it as the lesbians were. This made me wonder.  Then it just confused me, they were lesbians damn it.

What were they doing watching straight sex? Then it got worse, I heard a cry of "Oh my God they're taking it to the exercise bike". The only things that came to mind were, ouch, why, and how. I didn’t look though.  I really didn’t want to know. I was ok with some things in life remaining a mystery. Then, it all went weird and uncomfortable.

"Shelly, hey do straight people really do that?"
"Hey, so is like anything stationary fair game to you guys?"
"So like, straight people are really vocal huh?"
"Are you that vocal?"
"Have you ever had sex on your guys’ weight machine?"
"Can you have sex on a bike like that?"

On and on the questions went, and the more and more I wanted to die. I was contemplating stringing all the cigarette butts together and hanging myself.  If that didn’t work I was going to dunk my face in the nearest drink an attempt to drown myself.  Perhaps I could cut my wrists with a sharpened lighter…

I have never been so uncomfortable. It was as if I was some sort of messiah like mouthpiece for the heterosexual community, and I did not like it, not one bit. Why couldn’t one of the guys be here, like Gene? He would totally get off on answering sex questions for a group of curious lesbians. I mean really this was every guys wet dream, and I was having it, so not cool.

I looked at my watch and realized that the dynamic duo of sex romping was still
going strong after and hour. Neither showed any signs of slowing and my friends had pulled out the patio chairs and were watching avidly. They were talking about technique, hand placement; a few times they started clapping at some move or another.

The bike dismount got a standing ovation. At some points they even yelled advice and tips. I pretty much wanted to die, how was I ever going to face Billy again. I just wouldn’t, that was all there was to it. Every time I saw him I would run away, easy, and he wouldn't suspect a thing other that I was his crazy neighbor. 

I went inside and made some food and popcorn because the others were looking pretty sedentary. At one point Jennifer came in and got stuff to make score cards. I assumed they were on another piece of furniture and a dismount was imminent. The whole situation seemed weird to me. I was waiting for a leprechaun to jump out of my pocket and start talking to me in Arabic. When I got back outside Jeff was there, thank god.

He looked just as disturbed as I felt, and more so because since he was a penis
carrier many of the people that were present hated him based on that fact alone. Although, this did not stop their questioning of him. I was off the hook, for now.

"Don’t you think his balls should hurt from all that slapping?"
"How long can you keep it up?"
"How do you do the bike dismount?"
"Do you have a thing about being called a rock star too or is that a person to person thing?"

At this point there was a really loud scream and then two sighs of contentment. It looked as if they were finally done. Everybody stood up and clapped. The two looked over at us, waved, then passed out. Jeff ran away, to shower I’m sure. The others seemed bored now and went back to their apartments and Jennifer and I went inside to watch the rest of Buffy on tape. It was as if it never happened, totally weird, totally bizarre, totally uncomfortable, but totally forgotten. Well almost forgotten, I have flashbacks whenever I hear the words rock star, exercise bike, or the name Billy, but I think I’ll live


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