Drama Queers!

by Frank Anthony Polito

The reason I think Jack is gay is because I know for a fact that he is, based upon personal past experience.

  To make a long story short…

  Back in 11th grade during Winter Break, Ava Reese had some people over her house. All the Usual Suspects showed up: me, Max, Jack, Carrie, Audrey. I don’t know how, but Max got a case of beer, and we sat around Ava’s kitchen table playing this stupid drinking game, Thumper. I totally sucked at it.

  Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and who showed up to crash?

  None other than…Joey Palladino.

  With Diane Thompson off in Florida with her folks, I guess he felt like slumming. Eventually, we moved the party into Ava’s front room. Or the French room, as Max Wilson calls it. We were all sitting around drunk, with Jack and Joey practically on top of each other. Pretty soon, one of the girls suggested we play Truth-or-Dare. Next thing we knew, everybody’s French kissing Joey Palladino…Including Jack!

  That same night, Jack stayed over my house since it’s only like ten blocks away from Ava’s on College. Being that he’s a Total Persnickety-Persnick, he doesn’t drink and drive, so we walked all the way home.

  Wouldn’t you know? Dayton’s Depot was an icebox.

  “What the fuck?” I remember Jack saying, upon entering my moonlit abode. In the quiet of our kitchen, I could hardly hear the hum of the refrigerator over his chattering Chiclets.

  “Thank the deadbeat!”

  It was totally Dad’s fault Mom couldn’t afford to pay the heating bill that month. He was late with the child support (again), and we hadn’t seen him since his annual Christmas visit six weeks prior. Grinning and bearing it, I stripped down to my BVDs.

  So there we were, sitting around my room talking when Jack started freaking out…What was everybody gonna say about him kissing Joey Palladino come Monday in school? Now people were really gonna think he’s a Total Fag.

  Da-dah da-dah.

  You can bet I took this as an opportunity to press the issue and find out whether or not Jack might still have feelings for his former friend. Especially now that they swapped some serious spit. And when Jack admitted he was even more confused because he did sorta like kissing Joey, it didn’t surprise me at all.

  Now I don’t know if it’s because we were both drunk or what, but next thing I knew, Jack asked me what it feels like to fool around with another guy. I didn’t know how to describe it other than you just gotta do it to find out.

  Fast forward fifteen minutes…

  There’s me, wiping myself off with an old T-shirt before stepping back into my underwear. I mean, it wouldn’t have been so bad if it only happened the one time. Unfortunately, this sorta thing became a regular recurrence for the next several weeks.

  The big problem became that whenever me and Jack fooled around, he never seemed to enjoy himself. Sure, he totally got into it while he was down there doing his thing, but not once did he ever get off in the end. And never once did he ask me to reciprocate, which seemed sorta odd, you know what I mean?

  I mean, this was fine by me. Like I said, I never felt anything more for Jack than the love of a brother. The last thing I wanted to do was give him the impression I was into him or anything. Still, I couldn’t help but feel guilty watching Jack put his clothes on and head home in the cold, like somehow I sucked as a human being because (to be blunt) I enjoyed getting sucked!

  “You sure you’re okay?” I asked him every single time.

  “I’m fine,” he always answered, avoiding my eye.

  The next day at school, Jack barely spoke to me. I think he feared our friends could somehow tell we were having a scan-ju-lous affair. Or whatever you wanna call it. Yet come the following Saturday night, he’d drop by Big Boy’s when I got off, offer me a ride home…Where I’d promptly get off all over again!

  If it hadn’t been for the herpes (simplex two) outbreak right before MSBOA Band Festival, things may never have ceased between Jack and me. Thank God Ava’s mom came up with the baby butt rash remedy to heal the cold sore on Jack’s lip. This he totally got from kissing me—not because of the reason you might think!

  That’s about the time Jack informed me he wanted to drop outta Band because he was sick of being a Band Fag. Or so he said. Our friendship hasn’t been the same ever since.

  Who’s That Guy?

  “Everybody wants you when they don’t know who you are

  If you’re a man of mystery, it really takes you far…”

  —Maxwell Caulfield

  Wanna know the best movie ever?

  Grease 2.

  Not the original “Grease is the word” Grease with Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta. I’m talking about the sequel starring Michelle Pfeiffer and Maxwell Caulfield. You know, that totally hot guy who’s married to the old lady from Nanny and the Professor.

  Well, Grease 2 happens to be one of my favorite movies, right up there with National Lampoon’s Vacation, Ice Castles, and Somewhere in Time with Jane Seymour and Christopher Reeves—I mean, Reeve.

  I’ll never forget the first time I seen it back in 7th grade…

  Me and Max were spending the night over Jack’s house, and we were downstairs in his basement. Jack’s dad is all Mr. Fix-it, and he’s got one end done up with carpeting, a couch and chairs, and a color TV with cable. On the opposite side, there’s this old pull-out sofabed that’s uncomfortable as hell. But me and Max used to sleep on it all the time because Jack wasn’t about to give up his bed upstairs. In case I haven’t mentioned it, Jack has always been a tad bit spoiled.

  Not that I’m saying he’s a brat or anything. He just always seems to have whatever I don’t—an Atari, his own phone, a VCR and color TV with cable right in his room, you name it.

  So the three of us were flipping thru the stations looking for something to watch on Skinemax—I mean, Cinemax—when we came across what looked like the T-Birds and Pink Ladies bopping around a bowling alley singing a song about scoring tonight.

  “Put on MTV,” Max ordered. “41.”

  He seized control of the remote and flipped back to the previous channel.

  “Turn it back!” I hollered. “I wanna see what that was.”

  We returned to Rydell High circa 1963, courtesy of Showtime. How come I didn’t know there was a Grease sequel? Me and Janelle totally loved the first one. In fact, whenever our babysitter, Sheryl Killian, babysat us and we weren’t watching The Hardy Boys, we were playing Danny & Sandy.

  “I don’t wanna watch this musical crap!” Max whined. “Put something good on.”

  “I thought you liked Grease,” I said to Jack, hoping he’d come to my defense.

  “I do,” he admitted. “But I heard Grease 2 sucks.”

  Suddenly, Max shouted, “Leave it on…That chick is hot!”

  This time he wasn’t talking about Boy George from Culture Club. Thankfully I was allowed to partake due to Michelle Pfeiffer’s big-screen break out as Stephanie Zinone…You know, I still haven’t seen The Witches of Eastwick yet.

  From that day on, I was hooked. Whenever I’d see in TV Guide they were showing Grease 2 on cable, I made sure I got an invitation to spend the night over Jack’s house.

  “But you’ve already seen it ten times!” he’d remind me, wanting to watch some crap TV show like Joanie Loves Chachi or Square Pegs.

  “Twelve,” I’d correct, “but who’s counting?”

  I was!

  Sure, compared to the original, Grease 2 is a tad cheesy, but I totally loved it.

  That summer when me and Jack went to Blue Lake for Band camp, I practically had the TV schedule memorized. Anytime I knew Grease 2 was being shown, I’d be like, “I can’t believe I’m missing Grease 2 right now!” You can bet Jack was totally sick of hearing that by the end of those twelve days, you know what I mean?

  This one scene I particularly enjoy takes place at the Bowl-a-Rama where all the Rydell High kids hang out on Friday nights, bowling, and smoking cigarettes, da-dah da-dah.

  Basically what happens is�
��Paulette’s little (lesbian) sister, Dolores, shows up on her skateboard. She rushes inside to tell T-Bird leader Johnny, “Balmudo’s out front and he’s all alone.” Johnny, Goose, and Louis take this as their cue to kick some Crater Face butt.

  They whip out their combs, light up their smokes, and make their way outside, pursued by the Pink Ladies. Only right before they arrive, the entire gang of Scorpions shows up, prompting the T-Birds to beat a hasty retreat. Except Dolores is busy dragging Davey to the parking lot, promising him, “action out front…Balmudo’s gonna get his face mangled.”

  As the youngest T-Bird flies outside looking for the rumble, Davey discovers he’s been ambushed, and Balmudo’s gonna kill him…When all of a sudden, outta nowhere, this Cool Rider shows up on a motorcycle, flames spray-painted all over the body, dressed in black leather, wearing a helmet and dark goggles, and looking totally H-O-T.

  Of course, nobody realizes he’s Michael Carrington, aka Maxwell Caulfield, but the T-Birds and Pink Ladies and Scorpions are all floored enough to break into song. “Who’s that guy?” they sing while he cruises his cycle around the parking lot and up onto the roof of this ’57 Chevy. Once the sirens of cop cars can be heard in the distance, Michael hightails it outta there. Johnny decides it’s time for everybody to bowl, and the T-Birds and Pink Ladies head back into the alley.

  Well, Stephanie is smitten. She can’t stop thinking about the Cool Rider she sang about earlier. Paulette (played by Judy Garland’s real-life daughter, Lorna Luft), Sharon (aka Doris Finsecker from Fame), and Rhonda “Yo, Ritter!” (who I never heard of before or since), bring up the fact that there’s been some doubt concerning Stephanie’s (quote) loyalty to the Birds (unquote).

  Stephanie, caught off guard, informs her Pink Ladies pals that maybe she’s (quote) tired of being somebody’s chick (unquote). Paulette tells her pal to relax and offers her a ciggie. As she’s trying to get the crappy matches to light, a leather-gloved hand wielding a Zippo pops into frame. Stephanie graciously accepts. When she looks up to thank her knight in shining armor, he’s none other than…The Cool Rider himself.

  “Wanna ride?”

  But it’s too late. The police have arrived.

  Cool Rider takes it upon himself to jump over the cop car, making his escape into the night, leaving an even more intrigued Stephanie in his wake. Later, when she’s pumping gas at her father’s service station, Michael appears a second time to totally whisk Stephanie off her toes. They spend a romantic evening riding around on his Harley, and end up totally making out before a blazing sunset, the instrumental version of “Cool Rider” playing in the background. The only thing is Stephanie still doesn’t know who the guy is.

  This brings me to the whole point of my analogy…

  Today after school, I meet Audrey at her locker. She asked me to help her look for a monologue for our A Christmas Carol auditions, even though they’re only three days away. Nothing like waiting till the last minute, huh, Aud? I can never remember what number hers is, so I always just look for the door wrapped in GO GREEN! GO WHITE! Spartans paper…I suspect maybe Audrey’s college of choice is Michigan State.

  “I gotta stop by the Band room and pick up my Flaggot shit,” she informs me, approaching from the far end of the empty hall between the gym and the pool.

  It’s only 3:15 PM and everybody’s already cleared out, either on their way home or off to some kind of practice. At moments like this, when I get a whiff of chlorine, I realize how much I miss being on the swim team. Especially now that I truly appreciate the male form in all its Speedo-ed glory.

  “Why didn’t you stop by there first?”

  I sidle up closer to Audrey’s locker as she spins its dial. I’m not trying to scam her combination or anything. She’s got a great collection of Chippendales cards on the door inside, and I can’t resist sneaking a peek whenever she opens it. There’s this one body builder-type, all oiled up and flexing in nothing but a bow tie…Hot!

  “Because, dipshit, I had to say good-bye to Berger before he went to work.”

  It’s official…Audrey Wojczek and Rob Berger are an item.

  Hard to believe, huh?

  “Well, smart-ass…Why didn’t you say so?”

  Now that football season is over, Rob’s got an after-school job working up at Bray’s “Home of the Ass Burgers” on 9 Mile and Dequindre. We call it that because of the giant donkey perched on top of the roof, holding a huge hamburger up with his hooves. I can’t say I ever had one, but I hear they’re sorta like the sliders at White Castle’s.

  Years ago, me and Jack used to joke that one day we’d steal the ass from on top of Bray’s and hold it hostage. Maybe now that Rob’s their official burger flipper and we know somebody on the inside we can come up with a plan. Only Jack still isn’t talking to me! It’s been a month since I stopped by his house before Homecoming and we had it out. Again, I probably shouldn’t have told Jack I think he’s a fag, even though I still totally do.

  The other day, I wrote a Letter to the Editor of The Hazel Parker (Jack) telling him how much it hurts my feelings when other kids call me a Band Fag because I literally am one. I also went on to say that I know for a fact there’s at least one other gay kid at HPHS (hint-hint, Jack) who’s afraid to be himself all because of what the other (quote-unquote) popular kids will think, and how sad I been since this kid (Jack) dropped outta Band because I miss him.

  I’m sure Jack won’t print the letter, which is fine, just so long as he knows I wrote it.

  “Where the fuck is that fucking book?”

  I watch as Audrey shuffles around a bunch of shit on her top shelf, finally fetching her homework for Parenting—I mean, Everyday Living.

  “Just wait till the baby comes,” I joke.

  Starting next week, Mrs. Ireland is making Audrey and all the girls in her class carry an egg around with them 24/7 like it’s a baby. And if anything happens to it, say it cracks or God forbid breaks, they fail the entire project, forever an unfit mother.

  “You’re so funny I forgot to laugh,” Audrey groans, closing her locker with a slam.

  Bye-bye, Mr. Body Builder!

  If you ask me, Everyday Living is a totally lame class. But here in Hazeltucky, where 90% of the girls graduate, get married, and squeeze out a litter of kids by the time they’re twenty-two, I suppose it’s pretty valuable. Lord knows my sister, Janelle, should have taken that course during her Senior year. Did I mention she just found out the other day that her and Ted are expecting? Six months from now on May 4th.

  You can bet Mom was livid, but I’m pretty psyched. Janelle’s not only my older sister, she’s also a friend. All I want is for her to be happy…Besides, how cool will it be being Uncle Brad?

  “Have you talked to Jack lately?” I ask Audrey when we pass by locker #1427 en route to our final destination.

  “Not since Senior Breakfast.”

  Last week, our entire class got together at the Kingsley Inn, this fancy-schmancy hotel out in Bloomfield Hills, for the first of many Senior Events. Me and Audrey sat at a table with Rob, Carrie, Ava, and Tuesday Gunderson. Directly across from us sat Jack and Max with Jamie Good, Shellee Findlay, Betsy Sheffield, and Tom Fulton, aka the Popular People…Now that Max also works at Farmer Jack’s, I guess he’s Jack’s new Best Friend.

  “You didn’t tell me that,” I say, stopping at the porcelain water fountain outside the girls’ bathroom to slurp a lukewarm drink.

  “He came up to me in the the lobby…” Audrey takes a turn, pulling her long hair back. “Me and Rob were waiting in line at the coat check.”

  “Did you say anything?”

  I intentionally choose not to comment on what looks like could either be a curling iron burn on the inside of Aud’s neck…or a hickey.

  “No fucking way, the fucker!” she snarls, wiping her face. “We should totally TP his house.”

  As much as I don’t wanna piss Jack off any more than he already is, it’s about time he becomes the target of an ambus
h. You know how many times I been dragged outta bed by my irate mother, after Audrey, Ava, Carrie, Jack, and/or Max decided the apple trees in our side yard make for a perfect place to wrap several dozen rolls of Charmin or Cottonelle or whatever brand Big Boy’s or Country Boy’s happen to be stocking in their johns that evening? More than I can count!

  “Every time I see him lately,” Audrey goes on, “he’s always with Little Miss Cheerleader.”

  “I know,” I can’t help but agree, because it’s true.

  It seems odd that Jack still spends so much time with Betsy Sheffield. I mean, last year they sorta went together, but now they’re just friends. Besides, Betsy’s been going with Mr. Homecoming King, Tom Fulton, for over a month. Yet just the other day, I seen Jack and Betsy heading out to lunch together in Jack’s 1979 pea green Dodge Omni. Sure enough, when me and Max got over to BK, we saw Tom with some of his Varsity football teammates, but Betsy and Jack were nowhere to be found.

  I realize that Tom never got along with Jack back at Webb, but I know if I had a girlfriend (in my case, boyfriend), I wouldn’t be letting her (him) take off to the Universal Mall food court with some other girl (guy).

  “I don’t know what he sees in her,” Aud mutters as we continue down the Choir/Band hall across from the auditorium. “Why the fuck did I bother joining Flag Corps if Jack was just gonna drop outta Marching Band?”

  “I know,” I agree again. “It totally sucks without him.”

  To top it all off, the other day Mr. Klan announced that we’re going to Florida to march in the Disney World Main Street USA parade. At first, I sorta thought it might suck wasting my Senior Spring Break with all the Band Fags, but most of my friends will be there (Ava, Carrie, Audrey, Liza Larson), so why shouldn’t I go?

  “Just let me just grab my flag from the back!”

  We enter the Band room proper where it’s totally impossible to hear anything over the deafening rendition of Van Halen’s “Jump” being belted out by Don Olsewski on drum kit, and his two cohorts, Curt Chaplin on alto sax, and Thad Petoskey on synthesizer.