by TJ Klune
Gus blushed horribly.
Casey said, “There it is.”
KALE AND tofu salad turned out to be disgusting.
But Gus was monitoring his opinions because the Internet told him to. He was controlling his emotions because it was the normal thing to do. He was also choking down something that tasted like a leafy green asshole.
Casey took a bite of kale and tofu, made a face, and said, “This shit is disgusting.”
Gus, normal as all get-out, said, “Hmm,” as he chewed through the pain.
“Seriously, man,” Casey said. “It feels like I just got punched in the face with every sad feeling I’ve ever had.”
“Interesting,” Gus said, thinking this was possibly small talk, which he was now a master of. “Tell me more.”
“I want to send this back,” Casey said, scowling at the bowl in front of him. “And I want to tell anyone coming in here to save themselves from a fate worse than death because it’s far too late for me.”
Gus felt bad, but he kept his emotions under control. “Fascinating. Cool beans.”
“Do you like it?” Casey demanded.
Gus knew he could lie, and he hadn’t read anything about whether or not normal people lied, but he wasn’t quite sure that normal people ate kale and tofu salad and enjoyed it. It honestly didn’t feel like something normal people did. Gus sighed because his life was so complicated. “No,” he said. “It’s not the bomb.”
“Right?” Casey exclaimed. “It’s like the opposite of the bomb. It’s the anti-bomb.”
Gus winced. So not a good first hangout. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at the mess before him.
“Hey,” Casey said, reaching over and briefly squeezing Gus’s hand before letting go. “This wasn’t your fault. You did not birth this abomination. Dude. I don’t even want to Instagram this, that’s how bad this is.”
“Oh no,” Gus said. “What is the world coming to.”
“Seriously. We need to find pizza. And beer. We can even make it a microbrew if you feel like being so fancy.”
The waiter appeared at their table. “How is everything?”
“Gross,” Casey said seriously. “Your salad offended my taste buds and I would like to leave the premises.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the waiter said, slightly taken aback. “I’m sure I can bring you something else that would—”
“Do you have sausage pizza?” Casey asked.
“Um. No. This is a vegan restaurant. We don’t eat anything here that had a face.”
“Then you cannot bring me anything I want. Aside from the check.” He looked back at Gus. “I tried, man. I’m sorry. But I need meat to live. I’m a carnivore. I want to eat things that have faces.”
Gus choked, but somehow managed to nod.
Casey was a loud, opinionated asshole who did not keep his emotions in check.
Gus thought that might be slightly awesome.
THEY FOUND a pizza place halfway back to Abby, a little hole-in-the-wall place where the floor was sticky and the food greasy.
Casey loved it and Instagrammed the whole thing.
Gus thought that was a little excessive, but kept that opinion to himself.
Throughout the rest of the night, Gus had a weird feeling in his chest as he watched Casey, as he talked with him. As he did his best to make him smile. To make him laugh. Especially to make him laugh because Gus was convinced it was the nicest sound he’d heard in a very long time.
It wasn’t until the night was ending that he could figure out what that feeling was.
Casey, for some reason, felt the need to walk Gus to his door after parking the minivan. Gus thought this was slightly uncomfortable and awkward, but was determined not to make it more so. The best way to do that, he knew, was to let Casey take the lead, because Gus was sure to fuck it up somehow and do something abnormal or weird or strange.
It didn’t stop him from having a mini internal freak-out as they stood on the porch. How did they end this? Did they shake hands? Did they kiss? Casey said he was mostly okay with kissing, but Gus thought it might be too soon for that. For the both of them. Did they make plans to go out again? When would he see Casey next? Monday at the coffee shop? Next week sometime? Was this just a friends thing or was it actually a date? Did Gus even want it to be a date? Did Casey? And why were Casey’s eyes so fucking bright and pretty and why did Gus want to stare into them longingly like they were the only thing in the world?
“Have you got a map?” Gus said. “Because I seem to have gotten lost in your eyes.”
Casey gaped at him.
“Oh crap,” Gus groaned, wishing for death. He hoped Casey wouldn’t take it the wrong way if Gus told him he could never see him again because he would have to move to the farthest corners of the globe to escape his own idiocy. It would only be—
“Can I hug you?” Casey asked instead, like he was nervous and was worried Gus would say no.
Gus didn’t even have to think twice. “Yes please,” he said and wanted to bash his head against the wall for not sounding infinitely more badass than that.
“Awesome,” Casey said, a smile pulling on his lips. “Bring it in, Grumpy Gus.”
Gus didn’t even scowl at that. He figured normal people wouldn’t. And he was well on his way to becoming normal. Nicknames were normal, and Casey had given him a nickname.
There was a brief, awkward moment where Gus was unsure of where to put his hands. It seemed important, the placement. It was his second hug from Casey, but it would be his first time responding, and he wanted to get it right. He’d messed up their first time, at least a little bit, but the inspirational calendar had told him it was a new day and a first chance at something new.
They were almost of the same height, Casey maybe a little shorter. Gus tried to maintain eye contact, but he couldn’t quite get there, because this was as close to anyone as he’d allowed himself in a long time. It felt claustrophobic, almost. Unbearably intimate. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe it was too much and—
Casey leaned in first. His arms wound their way around Gus, going under his arms again, just like the first time. Gus wondered if this was how he always hugged, wonder if this was how he would always hug. That thought, that he knew part of Casey, that he knew how he hugged, made that strange feeling in Gus’s chest burst just a little bit more.
Casey’s chin hooked on to Gus’s shoulder, and he turned his face slightly into Gus’s neck, his nose pressed into his throat.
And Gus?
Gus manned the fuck up.
He brought his arms up and around Casey’s shoulders, wrapping them around Casey’s neck, pulling him close. Casey made this happy little noise in the back of his throat, caught somewhere between a sigh and a groan. Gus liked that sound. Gus liked that sound quite a bit.
He’d never really had this, not before. Not with someone who could potentially be a romantic partner, in at least some sense. He worried for a moment if some level of arousal on his part would ruin this, if his dick would be the Benedict Arnold of dicks and betray him.
But it didn’t happen. There was arousal there, Gus could feel it bubbling below the surface. However, it was a low thing, a negligible thing, outweighed by that bright, damning feeling in his chest. As his fingers brushed against the hair at the back of Casey’s neck, Gus understood if for what it was.
Happiness.
It was happiness.
Gus was a little dumbstruck with the idea that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt happy. And why was it that it would be happening now.
Simple answers, those.
He hadn’t been happy since Pastor Tommy died.
He was happy now because of an asexual hipster.
He was so fucking screwed.
Chapter 12
HOW TO Be a Normal Person
Step 18: How to Have a Normal Social Life
Congratulations! You’ve made it this far in your journey to becoming completely normal. You shou
ld feel proud of yourself. It can be hard to hold back those pesky eccentricities that make you stick out like a sore thumb, but as long as you continue to follow these steps, people should be commenting on how normal you are in no time!
Now it’s time to take all that you’ve learned and apply it to what can be a risky situation: having a social life. It can be difficult to feel comfortable in a social setting, given that you will be expected to respond and communicate with others in what could potentially be an undisciplined setting. There are no specific guidelines on how each social event can go. It will depend upon the people involved, the setting, the reason for the gathering, and many other variables that should be assessed before you make a decision on how to act accordingly.
For example, if you walk into a room and people are wearing black and crying or whispering discreetly, chances are you’ve walked into a wake or a funeral, and you should not ask anyone in the room if they would like to go play a round of miniature golf because this party is way lame. For more information on how to act at a funeral, please click here to be redirected.
Another example of avoiding awkward situations can be a person’s exuberance. Say that you are interested in someone and would like to get to know them better. What more perfect time to do so than in a social setting surrounded by others? Instead of standing in the corner and staring at the object of your affections like a crazy person, go over and talk to them. Tell them an interesting, normal fact about yourself as an icebreaker. You could say, “Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you like white zinfandel. One time, I smashed a bucket of grapes with my feet and then drank it after it fermented.”
However, and this is more directed toward men out there, it can be difficult to avoid certain instances where your body is more ready for “interaction” than the rest of you is. For steps on how to hide an erection, please click here to be redi—
HOW TO Hide an Erection
This can be a tough situation, right, gentlemen? Here you are, minding your own business when a pretty girl or a handsome fella walks by or you see that actress on a movie poster or that meat counter guy at the grocery store asks if you want a sample of tube steak or a breeze blows absolutely the wrong way and you find yourself in one of the most awkward situations a man can find himself in: an erection in public.
By following these simple and easy tips, you can learn how to avoid, hide, or disguise your public erection so that no one will be the wiser!
Step 1: Plan Ahead
If you know your erection is going to be a problem, it’s best to plan “a head.” Try to avoid restrictive clothing such as spandex or leather chaps. It is harder to conceal an erection if your pubic region is constricted.
For example, instead of wearing skinny jeans, consider wearing khaki cargo pants. Also consider wearing a long shirt or a fanny pack that can sit low on your waist. These can act as cover in case your erection interrupts at an inopportune time.
Step 2: Uh-Oh, Now What?
So, you’ve got an erection. And you’re in a public place such as an opera or an ethnic food festival. The shame you feel must be extraordinary. But stop! It’s not your fault! Your body has natural reactions to stimuli, and sometimes, you have no control over what your body decides to react to. There are several options you have at this point:
—Pretend your hands are cold and put them in your pockets. Once done, make your hands into fists so that the front of your pants rises from your member, creating less friction.
—If you are at the library, take a book from the shelf and place it in front of your crotch. Act casual when you do it so as to not draw attention to your actions.
—Do math. Nothing gets rid of erections like performing algebra in your head. If you are not math-oriented, consider listing off all fifty states in alphabetical order or humming your favorite church hymn. When people hear a man humming “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” they won’t be thinking he has an erection.
—Try watching television. Remember, avoid television programs that will potentially prolong erections like Baywatch or Golden Girls. Stick with something basic that is guaranteed to kill any and all arousal like Fox News.
Step 3: The Object of Your Affections
Say, guys! Are you out on a date with the gal or fella of your dreams? There is nothing worse than trying to have meaningful and stimulating conversation only to find that you’ve been overstimulated and now are faced with one heck of a problem. If it doesn’t look like it’s in the cards that you’ll be getting lucky, you may be stuck between a cock and a hard place. If you’re out having drinks, consider crossing your legs and placing your ice-cold drink in your lap. Or, carefully make your way to the restroom to give your member some much-needed air. However, be careful doing this in a public restroom. Make sure the stall door is locked and if someone taps your foot underneath the stall or you see a hole in the wall, ignore it because that could only lead to further problems like prolonging your erection or jail time. Either way will most certainly not impress your date!
“Oh my god, who the fuck wrote all of this?” Gus groaned, banging his head against the computer keys.
IT HAD been weeks since their first hangout (he both loved and hated that word), and Gus was pretty sure he sort of had a not-really boyfriend of some kind. He’d never been in the position before, and he was unsure really of what to do next.
Granted, he could just ask Casey, but that way lay danger (because what if Casey laughed at him? Or what if Casey said no thank you? Or what if Casey said that it was nice while it lasted but he’d found an even more normal person than Gus could ever be and they ran off to live in platonic happiness for the rest of their lives?).
It was all very confusing for Gustavo Tiberius. And if there was one thing he hated more than Michael Bay, it was to be unsure about something. Unfortunately, his encyclopedias were of no help and Gus was starting to get slightly afraid of the Internet (seriously, how were there ads on websites for things he was just looking at three minutes before? Gus wasn’t paranoid by nature, but he was pretty much convinced the NSA was onto him and his browser history was something he most definitely didn’t want released to the public).
So he went with the next best source of information he had on a warm Thursday in June.
He waited until they were inside the door before he looked at them and said, “Welcome to Pastor Tommy’s Video Rental Emporium. Did you enjoy Casablanca? Please help me because I think I have a boyfriend but I don’t know for sure.”
The We Three Queens stared at him.
Bertha said, “I think Casablanca is overrated, to be honest. And what do you mean you think?”
Bernice said, “Ingrid Bergman was all woman, let me tell you. And how do you not know?”
Betty said, “The romance was certainly passable, if I say so myself. And can’t you just ask him if he’s your boyfriend?”
Gus scowled. “You think you’re being logical, but you’re really not. And I’m pretty much convinced now your inspirational calendar is alive and it’s going to murder me because it knows everything that is going on in my life.”
“How so?” Bertha asked.
“I’m having a mental crisis about the state of my romantic life,” Gus said, aware of how ridiculous that sentence sounded and vowing to say nothing of the sort ever again. “And the damn calendar’s message today was that I’ll get the answers I seek as long as I know the questions to ask.”
“Ooh,” the We Three Queens breathed.
“Prescient,” Bertha said.
“Ominous,” Betty said.
“I knew we shouldn’t have bought it from that traveling gypsy,” Betty said.
“You bought it from where?” Gus said, already planning on closing the store and going home to research gypsy curses on the Internet.
Betty rolled her eyes. “Calm down, Esmerelda. We bought it at Walmart on the clearance rack.”
“Oh,” Gus said. “That… that doesn’t really make me feel any better.”
&nbs
p; “It shouldn’t,” Betty said. “It was $1.99.”
“Boys are dumb,” Bertha said. “All you have to do is ask and you will have all the answers you want.”
“Well, yeah,” Gus said as Harry S. Truman gnawed gently on his finger. “But what if the answer isn’t the one I want to hear?”
“Then you buck up and move on and don’t forget the lessons you learned,” Bernice said.
“See?” Gus said. “That’s sounds awful. I don’t want to go that direction. I’d rather it be frustratingly vague or ignore it all together.”
“You won’t have to because it won’t go that direction,” Betty said. “Anyone can see that boy is ass over elbows for you.”
Gus grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”
“It’s a good thing,” Betty assured him. “What do the kids say these days? Blast it all. Oh! He like likes you.”
“Ew,” Gus said. “Never say that to me again.”
“The point is,” Bertha said. “You’re telling yourself you’re going to get hurt when it’s most likely quite the opposite.”
“Or you could just kiss him,” Bernice said. “That usually works too.”
“Why do I have to do anything?” Gus muttered. “Maybe he should have to do it.”
“Yeah,” Betty said. “Because he’s the one asking us for advice on how to get a boyfriend.”
“Oh burn,” Bernice whispered.
“Hey!” Gus barked. “I’m trying over here!”
“You should get some cream for those burns,” Bernice whispered.
“We know you are,” Bertha said. “And it’s been just lovely to watch. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile before Casey came to Abby.”
“I don’t smile,” Gus retorted, even though he’d caught himself smiling just two days ago for absolutely no reason other than Casey sending him a text that said I thnk ur supr. He took it as Casey thought he was super and not supper, because one way was nice and the other promoted cannibalism.