Going to the Chapel

by Swan, Tarn

  How DARE Lulu bring his gift-wrapping abilities into question! He gift-wrapped every day of the year. He wasn't just a once a year Christmas gift wrapper. He was a professional! It was the paper. It was crap! Lulu was adamant. No refunds.

  Well, that was Lu off the Christmas card list, or it would have been if I hadn't already written one out for him. Twinks said I was to refrain from sending it until he was offered an apology and a refund. I shook my head in sad disapproval. He was actually going to hold his best friend's Christmas card to ransom? Too bloody true!

  The wrapping of presents was abandoned. I'd have to wrap them up, because he wasn't working with substandard materials and anyway it was boring wrapping up presents. It was the same boring thing every year, boring, bloody boring!

  I resignedly put everything away and took solace in fresh coffee and biscuits. I would have taken hemlock, but we were fresh out. He declined to join me in solace. Instead he sat beside me on the couch, arms folded, legs crossed, lemon faced and quietly fizzing like a human Alker Seltzer. He sarcastically asked if I could munch my chocolate digestive a bit louder as they couldn't quite hear me at number twenty-six. He then said I ought to be cutting back on biscuits anyway, as it would do nothing to improve my paunch, which he'd noticed was starting to reform.

  Snatching another biscuit out of the tin on the coffee table I suggested an early night might do him good, as he was obviously tired and crabby. He didn't need an early night thank you very much. What he needed was a distraction, a bit of excitement, like planning...at which point I stabbed a digit at him and said, “you dare, Jonathan, you just dare mention it and I'll wallop your backside until you can't sit down.”

  Rising majestically to his feet he announced he was off for a hot bath. There was no hot water. I'd used the last of it to wash the car after lunch and had forgotten to put the emersion heater back on. That was his cue to blow his lid.

  “Selfish, that's what you are, selfish and bloody thoughtless! You pay more attention to that heap of metal with a wheel at each corner than you do to me.”

  I told him the water would soon heat up and there was no need to make a fuss. In his opinion there was every need to make a fuss. He wanted a hot bath NOW. Not later.

  I honestly felt like strangling him. Instead I put the water on and took refuge in the bedroom, while he sulked downstairs. He duly had his bath and retired to bed wearing a sexy black silk thong and a matching cropped silk vest. He looked like a high-class rent boy. The look on his face clearly said, look what you're missing. I did try an experimental stroke of his thigh, but was coldly rebuffed with the delicate words, “play with your own balls, because mine are not for gaming with tonight. My jackpot is not up for grabs.”

  Why is my man fizzing and fuming? In a word, jealousy! Teddy and Maurice sailed into the PP on Friday night looking like a couple of rejects from a gay Elvis review. Both were garbed in matching sequinned white jumpsuits, which judging from Maurice's facial expression was Teddy's idea and not one he was entirely comfortable with. They were, said Teddy smugly, getting in the mood for a long weekend break in Las Vegas, an early Christmas treat. There were cries of envy from the assembled crowd at our table, much to Teddy’s delight. Las Vegas is a place every drag queen wants to visit before her mascara wand dries out and turns to dust.

  The break is scheduled for this weekend. To my dismay Teddy invited Twinks and me to accompany them to the resort. Twinks was well up for it. I wasn't. For a start, considering it's only a four-day holiday, it cost a fortune and that was without the trimmings such as cabs, shows, casinos and food. It's beyond our budget, especially at this time of year when there's enough expense to contend with. We're heading towards needing to replace the car soon and funds need to be reserved. I said no. Even if we could afford it he wouldn't be able to get the time off work, not with it being close to Christmas. He was not thrilled and once again I was branded as Mr Mean.

  It's his birthday next week. He's told me not to buy him anything for it, unless it's a holiday to Las Vegas. Apart from the fact I would rather serve time than go on holiday with Teddy and Maurice I could not cope with three loud queens in a heavily built up area. It would be a consortium too far. There is another good reason I said no, which I won’t disclose yet.

  Twinkles and Lulu are over at Frank's house tonight helping him put the finishing touches to his Christmas display ready for the big switch on tomorrow night. We also have a festive display this year, a relatively modest one. Big Mary got our small herd of infamous twinkling reindeer working again. Twinkles was thrilled to bits. They're artistically posed around the garden pawing and twinkling. It’s a bit early in my opinion, but he couldn't wait. I must admit they do look pretty.

  6th December 2006: The Three Unwise Men

  It would have been my parent’s wedding anniversary today, if they hadn't divorced of course. I don't know what suddenly made me think of it. It’s one of those items of data stored in the brain that gets thrown to the fore every now and again for no apparent reason. Maybe there was a subliminal trigger, a scent, a sound or a glimpse of something, which reawakened some calendar memory lodged deep in the hard drive of my brain. Who knows? I was making a pot of tea in the kitchen this morning when it came to mind. It made me feel unaccountably sad.

  Sitting at the table nursing a mug of tea I wondered if either of them would be recalling the anniversary of the day they had vowed to love and cherish one another until death did them part. They would have believed in the vows they made, just as I believed in the vows I’d made with Twinks in the summer. Where does love go wrong, why does it die? It’s too painful to even contemplate. I believe, or want to believe that he and I will be together forever.

  They gave it a good go, my parents I mean. They were together a lot of years. Part of me still misses them being together. I don't think they do. They’ve moved on as individuals. I miss my parents being a unit, especially at this time of year, perhaps because all my happy childhood memories involve my parents being a set. I don't recall any unsettling or frightening stresses between them, not beyond the everyday niggly type anyway. The cracks started to appear, or maybe they just became visible, when Maryann and I left home. I suppose the truth is people can grow apart at any time for a thousand different reasons. In my heart and mind my parents will always be together somewhere in time, along with Maryann and me in our childhood guises.

  My wistful morning musings were interrupted by the hung over clickity-clack of fluffy mules. Twinks tottered into the kitchen looking like a good reason to give up drinking. Flopping onto my lap he wound his arms around my neck and whimpered that he was dying. He demanded I do something to make him feel better immediately if not before. In keeping with the season I adopted a Scrooge like manner and told him if he were dying, he should get on with it and reduce the surplus population of drunks. He defamed me as a cold, cruel, heartless Top. I was worse than Herod or even his sidekick, him that lent his name to that glorified form of yoga, Pilate.

  Lulu staggered into the kitchen and flopped down on a chair. He also moaned he was dying and said he must have had a bad maraschino cherry in his last tequila brown ale.

  Kevin came next. Collapsing on the chair next to Lu he slumped across the table and whimpered into its surface. He didn't need to tell us he was dying, we could tell.

  Sliding Twinks from my lap onto a chair I set about medicating the three unwise men, not so much royal visitors who had traversed from the East as right royal piss artists who last night had traversed from the direction of next door.

  I dished out painkillers, orange juice and vitamin B tablets. Twinks has it on good authority (the Teddy oracle) that vitamin B is good for hangovers. I then cruelly reminded them they all had work to get ready for. To a man they denounced me as wicked.

  The big Christmas light switch on didn’t actually take place last night. Frank postponed it because he had one more thing to rig up. He reckons it will guarantee that he and not Brownlow will triumph in this year’
s festive lights battle. One of his contacts in the council phoned him on Tuesday afternoon. During the course of clearing an old shop due for demolition he'd come across something Frank might be interested in. Frank was interested, very interested and so were Twinks and Lu. They roped in Kev, as he's a bit of a handyman and good with tools and not just the obvious ones. The three of them spent last night helping Frank rig up his surprise centrepiece and after they'd helped they had a bit of a celebratory drink.

  Katie called me at eleven to suggest I go over there, as things were getting silly. I sallied forth to discover the four of them absolutely plastered. They were using a party balloon helium canister to blow up glow in the dark condoms, courtesy of Lulu. They’d also been inhaling the gas and all of them were speaking in squeaky voices. Frank said if it ever got out that he'd spent the night having fun with three gay blokes and a pack of condoms he'd never live it down. Seeing as he had two inflated condoms stuffed up the front of his top and was speaking in a Donald Duck voice it set the four of them off cackling and giggling.

  I left Frank to Katie and herded Huey, Dewey and Louie back home. The big switch on is now due to take place tomorrow night. Donald Duck and Co are much too hung over tonight. Brownlow has also held off switching his lights on and tensions are mounting. Peace on earth? You must be joking.

  7th December 2006: Advent

  Twinks is gearing up for his birthday. His mood strings are on the high and tight side. He started as soon as he got up this morning by launching into a jealous whine about Teddy and Maurice and their imminent long weekend in Las Vegas. I wouldn’t have minded so much if it was an original whine, but it wasn’t. I’d heard it all before. I was sick of it. Teddy, Maurice and Las Vegas were as of that moment all censored words. If they crossed his lips in any combination whatsoever I would not be a happy bunny and consequently neither would he.

  Perhaps I would prefer it if he didn't speak at all?

  Yes please.

  Rising to his feet he gave me a reproachful look, stuck his cute little nose in the air, gathered the skirts of his ruffled robe tight about his person and stalked out of the kitchen in silent indignation.

  Unfortunately his silence didn't last long. The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention as I heard his voice float in from the hall, saying, “hello, mummy dearest. It's Jonathan, remember me, your own sweet son?”

  I almost overturned my chair as I shot to my feet and bounded out into the hall. Of course it was too late by then. The damage was done. “Oh dear.” He put the phone down and gave a bitter, painful little laugh, which made my guts twist. “She hung up, can you imagine that?”

  Pointing a stern finger I warned him. If he phoned his mother again I would paddle his backside twice daily for a month.

  He gave me a sly little smile. “Whatever you say, Tarn darling, no phoning. I'll just pay a little house call this evening instead. I’ll say hello to the bitch and wish dear old granddad a merry Yuletide. You never know they might give me my inheritance early in honour of my forthcoming birthday.”

  This was Twinkles at his wind up worst, actively seeking trouble in order to vent some of the spleen that cloaks him at this time of year. If he wanted trouble, he’d got it. Grabbing his hand and ignoring his shrieks of protest I hustled him into the living room, sat down on the couch and threw him over my knee. Lifting his robe up I spanked him hard and fast. The pain I inflicted on his bottom was nothing compared to the pain he'd inflicted on himself by making that silly self-damaging phone call. It was like twisting a knife in a wound.

  He was much calmer after a good cry and apologised for purposely goading me. I suggested he should also apologise to his backside seeing as the result of his goading me was that it was hot and sore.

  He cheered up slightly when he opened his advent calendar to find a Viennese truffle, his favourite. I got a kiss for that. Yes, grown man though he is, he has to have an advent calendar. This year, to his delight, I bought twenty-five assorted continental chocolates from his favourite confectioners and had them concealed in tiny decorative boxes, which I then numbered. Every time he opens a door on the advent calendar he also opens the corresponding chocolate box.

  My mother was most disapproving when he told her of my innovation. She said advent was about preparing for the coming of Christ, not for gorging on chocolate and lining the pockets of businessmen. Twinks pulled a face and said he'd heard that elderly people often underwent a religious conversion as the path of life lengthened behind them. She sweetly told him he was looking good; the extra weight suited him, especially around the hips.

  Got to sign off now. The big Christmas light switch on is about to take place. Gabby has come to get me and time, tide and excited ten year olds wait for no man. Twinks and the gang are already over there. There’s a small crowd gathering expectantly in the Close.

  12th December 2006: Jewel Thief Targets Queen

  I incurred Twinkle’s wrath this evening. He’s very, very cross with me. I am well and truly out of favour. Why? I’ll tell you.

  He was washing up after dinner this evening. Perhaps it was his pink rubber gloves, but my passions felt suddenly aroused, as did other things. Slipping my arms around his waist I kissed his neck and murmured obscene suggestions in his ear, to which he seemed receptive so I followed through by sliding my hand down his stomach towards his pleasure package, while simultaneously nibbling and kissing his ear, which is one of his erogenous zones. Alas, that's where I came undone and I don't mean in the trouser department. I sucked his ear with more energy than was perhaps necessary and to my horror I sucked out his earring.

  He felt its departure from his lobe and giving a cry of indignation whirled round to remonstrate with me, only as he did so he caught me sharp in the midriff with his elbow and instead of spitting out the earring I sucked in my breath with pain and promptly swallowed it. I made the mistake of saying so. He had no sympathy. His indignation increased. Whisking off a glove he soundly flogged me with it while yelling I'd eaten one of his favourite earrings and I was to cough it up immediately.

  There was a hopeful moment when my tongue detected something nestling against my lower gum and I thought I might have been mistaken about swallowing the jewel. It was only the butterfly back. I'd definitely swallowed the stud earring, a pink crystal star. He was irate. I had to forcibly confiscate his glove, before he beat me to death with it.

  He demanded I take laxatives in order to help flush out his earring, but I refused saying nature would take its own course in its own time.

  It's a real passion killer swallowing your beloved's favourite earring. We’ve gone from me murmuring sexy innuendoes into his ears to him muttering dire implications into mine should I fail to sit and deliver the item at the earliest opportunity. I can clean and sterilise it too. Randy sod I am, can't keep my hands off him, or my tongue. He can't even wash up without being molested.

  Honestly, the way he's carrying on you'd think I'd done it on purpose. I feel like gagging him with his own rubber gloves and shoving him in a cupboard. There's scant concern for me, having a foreign body floating through my digestive system. I just hope it comes out where it should come out.

  He's on the phone chuntering to Lu about it now. Soon everyone will know I swallowed one of his earrings. I'll be reviled as a jewel thief who targets innocent queens.

  13th December 2006: Soap Operas

  As I’ve said on numerous occasions I'm no thespian and the thought of performing in front of an audience does nothing for me whatsoever. Thus it was that I firmly escorted Twinkles out onto the landing this morning and shut the bathroom door on him, locking it securely behind me before going through my daily colonic expulsion ritual, or attempting to.

  I'd barely settled myself on the porcelain throne when he gave a sharp little rap on the door and asked how I was doing? I shouted I would report as and when. There was a brief pause then, “anything yet?” I told him to go away. There was silence, but I knew he was still there lurking and li
stening. It was putting me off. I irritably told him to get lost. He said and I quote, “oh for frigs sake! Stop being so anally retentive, relax and loosen your bowels. I want that earring. If you let me in I'll rub your back. It might help.” I said it wouldn't help and if he didn't leave me in peace I would give up trying.

  I finally did the necessary business and had a good look at it, but could see nothing reminiscent of a pink crystal star sparkling in it. Twinkles, sensing I'd performed immediately knocked on the door and demanded to know whether his jewel had been retrieved. I opened the door and said no. He asked if I'd looked properly. I said of course I'd looked properly. It wasn't there. It might come through next time. Had I poked through my poo with the loo brush because it might be hidden inside? If I preferred he'd poke through it with the loo brush? I said no one was poking through my poo with a loo brush and hurriedly flushed the toilet.

  Placing his hands on his hips and cocking his head on one side he snapped, “shall I tell you something, Tarn Swan? You're a nice lad, but your shit STINKS!”

  I gave his impudent bottom a swift smack and told him to get ready for work. He did so with ill grace. When it came to accessories there was much sour and exaggerated pondering as to what pair of earrings he should wear to replace the ones I had ruined by digesting one in my quest to have my evil way with his helpless body.

  I cracked and presented him with compensation in the form of a pair of studs I had earmarked and hidden to put in his Christmas stocking. They're little silver snowflakes with a pale blue crystal at the centre. He adored them. I told him he was an absolute pain in the arse as I handed them over. He replied that it was better to be a pain in the arse than have an earring up your arse, which earned him another swat.