by Raziel Reid
“Your father is such a bigot,” Tommy says. “Talk about self-loathing,” he adds under his breath.
The razor nicks Blaine’s chin. He winces as he attempts to shave over it.
“Here, let me.” Tommy takes the razor out of Blaine’s hand and starts shaving for him.
“So how much of Ken Roberts’s little coronation do you remember?” Blaine asks.
“Let’s just say I woke up in Ken Roberts’s bedroom and I have no idea how I got there.”
“Yeah, you were pretty wasted.”
“I guess so. I don’t even remember seeing you.” Tommy glides the razor down Blaine’s jawline. “Drinking that night was the only way I could handle Ken Roberts. He’s totally irredeemable. Did you hear about Tutti? Is that why you wanted me to come over?”
“So she followed the trend, huh? I wonder if there will be others.”
“I don’t think she really wanted to die.”
“They always pretend they didn’t want to die when they live. And when they do die, everyone else pretends they didn’t want to die. After my mom nose-dived off the roof, everyone tried to act like it was a big accident. Like her wings just didn’t flap.”
Tommy holds the razor suspended in front of Blaine’s cheek. He wishes he could think of something to say, but in the end he just finishes shaving and watches as Blaine rinses off. Blaine pats his face dry with a towel, looking at Tommy through the mirror.
“What if you could Like someone to death?” he asks.
VANITY OF VANITIES
“Earth Sucks” is written across Ken Roberts’s Jeremy Scott crop-top. He’s standing at the center sink in the girls’ room of Willows High, sculpting his hair with Dippity-Do. He’d always coveted the center spot when Ken Hilton held rank. Ken Roberts has never looked so good, and that’s saying something. It’s like the glass has a built-in filter.
Ken Roberts’s lips are especially massive this morning. He recently had Dr. Hilton blow them up. Ken Roberts has always considered himself the best-looking Ken. Of course, all the Kens claim they needed less surgery than the others, but Ken Roberts swears in his case it’s true. He was born with a bitch face. A hospital room? He was expecting Fred Segal.
The stall door behind him is suddenly kicked open. Ken Roberts thought he was alone, but he isn’t exactly surprised to see Blaine sitting on the top of the toilet, his boots resting on the seat. Big feet, Ken Roberts thinks as he appraises Blaine in the mirror.
“The glory hole is one stall over,” he says. “But you have to wait until I’m finished doing my hair.”
Blaine steps out of the stall and up behind Ken Roberts. Their eyes meet in the reflection.
“I want to offer my congratulations,” Blaine says. “You’ve really come a long way from Ken Hilton’s sidekick with a no-gag-reflex special feature.”
“Ken Who?” Ken Roberts stares.
Blaine laughs. “I don’t blame you for being jealous. Have you seen the Ken Hilton tribute videos on YouTube? A new one seems to pop up every couple of minutes. His least-viewed still has more than your top-viewed.”
“Shut your peasant mouth!”
Ken Roberts frantically screws the lid back on his gel and says angrily, “Ken Hilton was a fraud. Did you know I wrote the lyrics to ‘Hunty’? The melody came to me one day when we were having a kiki in Ken Hilton’s bedroom. Ken Hilton’s mom gave me a bump and it was like putting a coin in a jukebox. I just turned into, like, Superstar Barbie. Ken Hilton recorded me singing and dancing in front of the wall of mirrors, and then the next thing I knew, Ken Hilton demanded his dad buy him a recording studio and he and DJ Jazzie were recording together. ‘Hunty’ went viral and I didn’t get so much as an acknowledgment, never mind royalties. Ken Hilton didn’t even let me star in the music video. He said he only needed one love interest, and Ken Carson was cast. How embarrassing. One love interest. ’Zif that bih ever thought she ruled!”
“Ken Hilton was no dumb dummy,” Blaine says. “He knew how to keep all eyes on him. And off the competition. I guess he’ll always be more famous than you.”
“Who can compete?” Ken Roberts asks. “He released his first sex tape when he was a Gerber baby.”
“Not to mention, you’re alive. Ken Hilton went from being a juicy story in life to a legend in death.”
“Are you saying I have to kill myself to move as much product?”
“Not exactly. If you just kill yourself, Ken Hilton will still be the winner. He did it first. He’s the OG.”
Ken Roberts stomps his foot. “I could kill her for killing herself first!”
“There might be a way for you to be the star of the girl group,” Blaine says over Ken Roberts’s shoulder. “What if your death was getting views while you were still alive?”
“Now there’s an idea I’d get a wrinkle for.” Ken Roberts spins around to face Blaine. “How?”
“Think you have it in you to be the martyred twink?”
“I love a little bondage.”
“You can make Ken Hilton’s suicide seem superfluous. But it will require you to sacrifice your morals by pretending to actually want to help people.”
“Then what will the help do?” Ken Roberts asks, sounding more genuinely concerned than he ever has in his life.
“You may not have a heart,” Blaine says, “but other people do. At least, they like to use the heart emoji. If you want to reach a greater public than Ken Hilton, you have to appeal to more feeds. Ken Hilton’s death started and ended with him. But what if you were the gift that kept on giving?”
Ken Roberts lights up. “Presents? I love presents.”
“So you’re ready to go live?”
VIDEO GIRL
Ken Carson raps Nicki Minaj’s “Black Barbies” in the locker room shower after football practice. There are soapsuds in his ear when Todd calls him over to where he’s sitting on the bench. Things are good between Ken Carson and Todd since their fight. Sometimes you just need to knock a guy’s veneer out before you can move on.
“What’s up, bruh?” Ken Carson rinses off and steps out of the shower.
“Have you seen this?” Todd asks.
He shows Ken Carson his phone. A tab is open to Ken Roberts’s Facebook page. Ken Roberts’s status says, “This will be my last post,” and beneath is a countdown to a live stream.
“What’s going down?” Todd asks.
“Don’t have a clue, dude,” Ken Carson says, drying off his balls with a towel.
Outside on the bleachers, two Stoner Conspiracy Theorists take rips out of a penis bong. One of them sees Ken Roberts’s Facebook status and coughs out a lungful of smoke.
“Ken Roberts is about to post for the last time?” he croaks.
“I think this is in Revelation,” his friend says. “Like, when Ken Roberts stops posting the beast is unleashed.”
Everyone in the cafeteria is huddled over their phones, impatiently waiting for Ken Roberts’s live stream to connect. What could it mean? A sense of dread percolates across tables, reaching the cheer squad in the center of the caf. They agitatedly sip their Diet Cokes.
Francie Fairchild’s phone vibrates and she gasps. “Ken Roberts just texted me. It sounds like he’s saying goodbye! He says, ‘Tell the squad I love them and remind everyone that the biggest regret of women who have gotten breast implants is that they didn’t go bigger xoxo.’ ”
The cheerleaders look at each other and try not to cry.
Allan comes up to Tommy at the lockers. He’s holding out his phone.
“Okay, I’ll admit it,” he says. “I unblocked Ken Roberts from Facebook because I’m curious. I was in the science lab and this is all anyone could talk about. Do you have any idea what it means?”
Tommy looks at the screen.
“It could be anything with that stunt queen.”
Inside the girls’ room, Ken Roberts stares down into a toilet bowl. He lets out a long sigh.
“Farewell, old friend. I showed you more than anyone el
se who I really am on the inside.”
Ken Roberts closes the lid and climbs on top of it.
“Does my noose go with my shoes?” he asks, fastening the belt around his neck. It’s attached to a pipe on the ceiling.
“Remember your lines?” Blaine asks.
“Of course. Breakfast is the most important meal.”
“No, I mean what we talked about. You know what to say?”
Ken Roberts bobbles. “I’ve always been very oral.”
“All right.” Blaine lifts his phone. “Let’s do this.”
“Ew, not with that phone. Use mine. And bury me with it!”
Ken Roberts pulls out the pink-rhinestone iPhone from his pocket and logs onto Facebook. He passes the phone to Blaine.
“Catch me from my good side.” Ken Roberts winks. “Pick one.”
Blaine focuses the frame.
“We’re live in five, four, three…” Blaine counts two, one with his fingers and points at Ken Roberts.
“Hai, bih, hai,” Ken Roberts says into the camera. “So, I’m making this video for the entire LGBTMZ community. My heart literally breaks when I hear about gay kids being bullied or kicked out of their home because they’re not accepted for who they are…”
Ken Carson and Todd hold each other as they watch Ken Roberts’s live stream.
“…homosexuality is criminalized in, like, hella countries,” Ken Roberts says in the video.
The two Stoner Conspiracy Theorists watch Ken Roberts with red, bugged-out eyes.
“I just can’t go on with my own perfect life knowing how many people aren’t accepted,” Ken Roberts is saying. “If I weren’t so scared of scarring I would totally be sympathy cutting.”
The cafeteria has gone quiet; the whole school is watching the live stream. Cries of sorrow from the cheerleaders of the damned.
“I hope that my death reaches people and makes them realize that #love, like, wins,” Ken Roberts says. “Retweet me to heaven for a heaven on earth.”
“I guess you could say I’m the younger, prettier Jesus.” Ken Roberts’s voice echoes out of Allan’s phone. He and Tommy stare down at the screen with horror. “I died for you,” Ken Roberts says, “so you could be free.”
Ken Roberts blows the camera a kiss before stepping off the toilet seat. Surprisingly, his head doesn’t pop right off.
Blond crown slumped forward, Ken Roberts swings in the stall.
Blaine lowers the iPhone.
“A star is born,” he says. “To die.”
HEIR HEAD
An early morning fog lifts off the streets of Willows Hills as Ken Carson goes for a run before Ken Roberts’s funeral. His ass bounces in a pair of pink velour Juicy sweatpants.
Ken Carson can’t believe his luck. He’s so relieved that he doesn’t have to play with Ken Hilton and Ken Roberts anymore. Ken Carson doesn’t get it; they were at the top and they gave it up. For what? Ken Hilton because too much of everything is never enough, and Ken Roberts to be some kind of hero? Ken Carson wants to live! He wants to relish his popularity, not sacrifice it. What’s the point of being famous if you aren’t alive to experience the attention?
It’s just so hilarious that everyone thinks Ken Roberts martyred himself because there isn’t acceptance for gay people. Ken Roberts didn’t believe in acceptance! He believed in exclusivity. If there was a moral behind his death it was that he was sick of living in a world where gay people aren’t treated better than the “hetero peasants.”
The headphones in Ken Carson’s ears are playing music so loud (“Sexy and I Know It” on repeat) that Ken Carson doesn’t hear the motorcycle driving behind him. The bike turns down Ken Carson’s street and stops at the spiked wrought-iron gate of his house.
When Ken Carson jogs home, he stops in his tracks at the entrance. There’s something sparkling on the ground.
His eyes bulge bigger than the bulge in his sweatpants.
The pink-rhinestone emblem of Ken!
Ken Carson picks up the iPhone and looks down the street to see who left it, but Blaine is long gone.
A red carpet lines the entrance leading into Famous Family Church. Barricades are set up to contain hundreds of onlookers, paparazzi and screaming fans.
Ken Roberts’s head did pop off after all, and it rolled around the world. His Facebook live stream gets millions of views.
When Ken Carson arrives at the church, the crowd goes crazy for him. He stops to sign autographs and pose for selfies, and uses his new iPhone to take photos of his adoring public to post on SoFamous. The Tumblr has been getting more hits than ever before.
Inspired by his live-stream suicide, Willows News has decided to broadcast Ken Roberts’s funeral live. Stacie Skipper stands next to the votive candles inside the church, smoking a cigarette and going over her script.
Ken Roberts’s casket is cast in a single spotlight. He’s dressed in his coronation regalia—Bob Mackie and a Cartier tiara.
Famous Family is packed. Everyone who isn’t at the service is at home watching it on TV and crying into their popcorn—devastated they didn’t get a seat (Ticketmaster sold out in minutes).
Tommy didn’t try to get tickets. He goes over to Blaine’s house to watch the shit-show live. He just couldn’t bring himself to attend another funeral.
They watch as Dreamhouse diva Diana Wails greets mourners at the entrance of Famous Family by passing them vials of coke and a program to roll up and snort it with.
Stacie Skipper begins the service with a wide, white smile. “Good afternoon, I’m Stacie Skipper for Willows News, reporting from Famous Family Church at the funeral of seventeen-year-old Ken Roberts, the latest victim at Willows High School. Beginning tonight’s sermon, Father Dude. Take it away, Padre!”
Father Dude walks up to the podium holding a crucifix in one hand and a tabloid in the other.
“The Bible may say suicide is a sin,” he says. “But the National Enquirer says suicide is in.”
The magazine features an article about Ken Roberts’s suicide with the headline, “Death of an InstaStar!”
Willows News zooms in on Ken Roberts’s corpse.
“Nice close-up!” Blaine leans forward on the couch and stares intently at the TV. “You can almost see the marks around his neck underneath the makeup.”
Tommy squirms next to him.
Next, Stacie Skipper introduces Ken Carson, who reads Ken Roberts’s favorite poem—the lyrics to “Piece of Me” by Britney Spears.
Tommy has to look away. His eyes land on the end table where he spots Blaine’s camera gun. The chamber is open…
Shit, I’m out of bullets.
Tommy grips the arm of the couch.
“Who do you think filmed Ken Roberts’s suicide?” he asks.
TOY SOLDIERS
Fifteen-year-old Claude Christie from Emmett, Idaho, is the Kens’ biggest fan. He has screenshots of all Ken Hilton’s nude Snapchats saved on his computer.
For his school talent show, he performed the dance number from the “Hunty” video. It was totally worth the black eye he got afterward from the school quarterback.
Claude tries desperately to look like the Kens, but his school isn’t as cool as Willows High; when he showed up for class wearing nothing but pink briefs he got sent home.
He bleaches his hair but can’t afford to go to a salon, so he buys boxed dye from the drugstore. Unfortunately, it doesn’t exactly match the Kens’ signature shade. His hair is yellow and totally fried, but with the right filter it almost looks like a Ken helmet.
SoFamous.tumblr.com is refreshed by Claude all day every day. He gives each post a note, reblogging the Kens so much that his own Tumblr is basically a shrine.
The Kens are his greatest inspiration because they’re so post-gay it’s sickening. When Claude is being bullied by his cis-pig classmates, he doesn’t let it get him down. He reminds himself that the Kens rule. And maybe one day he can too.
It’s so touching that Ken Roberts killed himself to m
ake the world a better place. Claude follows all the press. Ken Roberts is a sensation. Claude never thought in a million years that Ken Roberts would be more famous than Ken Hilton, but the bih did it! Ken Roberts is the patron saint of social media. Claude wants to be just like him.
So…he hatches a plan. He buys a gun from Walmart and gets his best friend to come over and record him as he commits suicide.
“Submit the video to SoFamous,” Claude tells her. “I hope Ken Carson posts it! Wouldn’t that be everything?”
Claude puts the barrel of the gun in his mouth and pulls the trigger. Blood and brains drip down the Zayn poster on his bedroom wall.
When Claude’s suicide video appears on SoFamous, it causes even more of an uproar than Ken Roberts’s live stream. Ken Carson posts the video using #KenSuicides. The hashtag takes off. Everyone shares the copycat suicide. Claude Christie breaks the internet. He proves that you don’t have to be as skinny, glamorous or coked out as the Kens to get attention. Talk about a game changer. For the Kens’ followers, this is their chance to shine.
Fourteen-year-old Johnny Skooter from Oregon raptures next. He steals his dad’s car keys and turns on the ignition while the car is parked in the garage. As the garage fills with carbon monoxide, Johnny manages to take a final selfie and submit it to SoFamous. Ken Carson captions the post, “Savage as fuck! #KenSuicides.”
It’s on.
Sixteen-year-old Steven Tiff of Manhattan hangs himself in a Bergdorf Goodman dressing room. The sales associate records it and submits the video to SoFamous.
A small-town twelve-year-old Canadian boy named Kurt Darrin takes a selfie before killing himself by diving into his dad’s ice-fishing hole.
Once the fever has crossed the border, it’s only a matter of time before it crosses seas. International Ken! Buy on demand.