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RandytheHelpfulPineapple:
It wasn’t clear when it happened. Somewhere along the line these things became unimportant to him. The question wasn’t if it was moral or not. It was a question if morals mattered at the time.
Jason often thought about this after the fact. Even though the scars had healed on the outside, he still was troubled on the inside. Was he really free from sin or was he just using the situation to cover his true urges?
----
“Red sky in morning, sailors take warning”, Jason said.
“We aren’t sailors, Jason”, Richard replied, “Besides, I checked the forecast and there won’t be any bad weather all day.”
“Ha, I know. It’s probably the anxiety talking—first time you know?” Jason chuckled nervously, looking out at the sunrise. He squinted and frowned at the horizon, giving it false scrutiny.
“I understand. It’s perfectly natural to be afraid. I was too on my first flight. Now that I have a few dozen under my belt, I can deal with that fear a bit better. It never does go away,” Richard paused, “But I think that’s kind of the point. Once you get up there, you feel alive.”
“I know, I know. I just don’t like the idea of sneaking in here. What if there is a problem?” Jason asked.
“I told you already. We aren’t sneaking in. The park likes to block off seasons arbitrarily to limit their staffing. Tons of hang gliders come in here in the off season—some of the best thermals can come in the shoulder months.”, Richard replied, “Besides, we’ll just be doing the basics today; I don’t want you getting sick up there. I have my GPS, variometer and beacon just in case we have to land off the trail.”
--
Jason woke up. At least he thought he did. He was still very dazed about what had happened. His eyesight was blurry and it wasn’t clear exactly where he was as he straddled the line of consciousness. Then he felt the pressure of Richard’s body on top of him. That realization was quickly followed by a rush of pain from his legs. It startled him so much that he vomited.
“No, no, no, no”, he whimpered to himself. The words barely came out as he winced in pain. He was paralyzed by it and gasped for air every now and then, as if he’d just surfaced from the bottom of a pool.
After about five minutes, he calmed down. Or maybe his brain got sick of reminding him of the pain. Either way, the gravity of the situation began to hit him. He was alone, he was crippled and no one knew where he was.
--
On the fifth morning, Jason stared at his Buck knife. Jessica had gotten it for him for Father’s day. What would they tell her at the funeral? Would they tell her the truth? Would it matter if they didn’t find his body? ‘Lengthwise for the morgue’ seemed to be false advertising if there would never be a morgue. A bit of him laughed at the morbid joke.
Jason unfolded the blade and pulled up his left sleeve. He put the tip of the blade against his wrist and lost his nerve as he began to apply pressure. Determined to keep going, he repositioned the blade again. The knife slipped from his jelly hand—he didn’t have the guts. He started to cry and his face tensed up, as if he’d been punched in the nose.
“Chickenshit”, he sobbed to no one.
--
The process seemed pretty streamlined by now. Jason was getting so good at it that he was a few weeks ahead of schedule by his estimation. That’s all there really was any more: the process.
He was so sloppy the first week: hacking off what he needed that hour or day and resentfully staving off his hunger. He felt ashamed back then. Maybe he thought that Richard’s wife would find out and cuss him out. Like that mattered anymore.
Now he liked to batch out the cuttings and put them on ice for later. It was incredibly efficient and he marveled at his own mastery of the process. That’s probably why he liked it so much; it gave him a sense of purpose and something to take his mind off the pain. It was simple and it appealed to the small, pragmatic voice inside him that seemed to dictate things these days.
The process was good.
--
By now, the light sources neared the edge of the tree line. At that pace, they’d find Jason and his beacon within five minutes. Salvation would be here. Civilization would be here. He was too tired and in too much pain to tell if it was joy he was feeling. By this point, his higher thinking was subdued and distant. All that remained was pragmatic and essential.
He looked at what was left of Richard. His body was pale, bloated and mangled. The obvious cuttings from his leg would leave little doubt of what transpired. Jason, or whoever he was in this moment, didn’t care who knew.
The lights were close now. In two minutes, they’d be coming around the bend with food, water and medical aide. He should have been happy, but it just wasn’t happening. It just wasn’t there anymore. Slowly, Jason reached for a scrap and put it in his mouth. As the juices gushed out of the tender meat with each bite, Jason sat back and relished the flavor. There it was; there was the happiness.
ElJefe58
Once is curious, twice is queer. Or so sayeth the man who isn't secure in his sexuality. Just because someone likes to experiment doesn't make them gay. Seriously, this topic might as well be the verbalization of a gay-bashing neoconservative circle jerk and/or orgy. Orgy. There's another word with negative connotations. You know, sex gets boring if one doesn't "mix things up," as they say. And who are they? They, apparently, are puritanical ninnies with no sense of adventure. Now, back to the topic at hand; if twice is queer, what is thrice? Extremely queer? Bordering on the pathological? AGAIN WITH THE JUDGMENTAL ATTITUDE.
Once written, twice shy. Whitesnake had the right idea:
I wouldn't mind if that hot cartoon chick desired to ride my snake. Is it just me, or does anybody else feel like hooking up the ol' VHS and popping in and rocking the fuck out to Heavy Metal? No, really - I have a pet anaconda named Mr. Pliskin. Mr. Pliskin and I share a platonic relationship, yet I'm not ashamed to admit that I love him. Therefore, twice is NOT queer because human nature is to seek out that which puts as outside of our daily norms in order to more fully experience life, such as man-snake love. How can an abstract concept be more powerful than love, be it heterosexual or homosexual or interspecies or extraterrestrial? Hell, Elliot loved E.T. and vice-versa, but they weren't considered a gay couple (although that rainbow trail left by the spaceship at the end of the film did have me wondering).
In conclusion, the aforementioned saying should be amended to, "twice is curious, once is queer." Thus, you're all gay if you haven't had sex with a man or a snake or an alien. And I embrace you. And you should embrace yourself. Many times per day.
Don’t forget to drink your Ovaltine.
It wasn’t clear when it happened. Somewhere along the line these things became unimportant to him. The question wasn’t if it was moral or not. It was a question if morals mattered at the time.
Jason often thought about this after the fact. Even though the scars had healed on the outside, he still was troubled on the inside. Was he really free from sin or was he just using the situation to cover his true urges?
----
“Red sky in morning, sailors take warning”, Jason said.
“We aren’t sailors, Jason”, Richard replied, “Besides, I checked the forecast and there won’t be any bad weather all day.”
“Ha, I know. It’s probably the anxiety talking—first time you know?” Jason chuckled nervously, looking out at the sunrise. He squinted and frowned at the horizon, giving it false scrutiny.
“I understand. It’s perfectly natural to be afraid. I was too on my first flight. Now that I have a few dozen under my belt, I can deal with that fear a bit better. It never does go away,” Richard paused, “But I think that’s kind of the point. Once you get up there, you feel alive.”
“I know, I know. I just don’t like the idea of sneaking in here. What if there is a problem?” Jason asked.
“I told you already. We aren’t sneaking in. The park likes to block off seasons arbitrarily to limit their staffing. Tons of hang gliders come in here in the off season—some of the best thermals can come in the shoulder months.”, Richard replied, “Besides, we’ll just be doing the basics today; I don’t want you getting sick up there. I have my GPS, variometer and beacon just in case we have to land off the trail.”
--
Jason woke up. At least he thought he did. He was still very dazed about what had happened. His eyesight was blurry and it wasn’t clear exactly where he was as he straddled the line of consciousness. Then he felt the pressure of Richard’s body on top of him. That realization was quickly followed by a rush of pain from his legs. It startled him so much that he vomited.
“No, no, no, no”, he whimpered to himself. The words barely came out as he winced in pain. He was paralyzed by it and gasped for air every now and then, as if he’d just surfaced from the bottom of a pool.
After about five minutes, he calmed down. Or maybe his brain got sick of reminding him of the pain. Either way, the gravity of the situation began to hit him. He was alone, he was crippled and no one knew where he was.
--
On the fifth morning, Jason stared at his Buck knife. Jessica had gotten it for him for Father’s day. What would they tell her at the funeral? Would they tell her the truth? Would it matter if they didn’t find his body? ‘Lengthwise for the morgue’ seemed to be false advertising if there would never be a morgue. A bit of him laughed at the morbid joke.
Jason unfolded the blade and pulled up his left sleeve. He put the tip of the blade against his wrist and lost his nerve as he began to apply pressure. Determined to keep going, he repositioned the blade again. The knife slipped from his jelly hand—he didn’t have the guts. He started to cry and his face tensed up, as if he’d been punched in the nose.
“Chickenshit”, he sobbed to no one.
--
The process seemed pretty streamlined by now. Jason was getting so good at it that he was a few weeks ahead of schedule by his estimation. That’s all there really was any more: the process.
He was so sloppy the first week: hacking off what he needed that hour or day and resentfully staving off his hunger. He felt ashamed back then. Maybe he thought that Richard’s wife would find out and cuss him out. Like that mattered anymore.
Now he liked to batch out the cuttings and put them on ice for later. It was incredibly efficient and he marveled at his own mastery of the process. That’s probably why he liked it so much; it gave him a sense of purpose and something to take his mind off the pain. It was simple and it appealed to the small, pragmatic voice inside him that seemed to dictate things these days.
The process was good.
--
By now, the light sources neared the edge of the tree line. At that pace, they’d find Jason and his beacon within five minutes. Salvation would be here. Civilization would be here. He was too tired and in too much pain to tell if it was joy he was feeling. By this point, his higher thinking was subdued and distant. All that remained was pragmatic and essential.
He looked at what was left of Richard. His body was pale, bloated and mangled. The obvious cuttings from his leg would leave little doubt of what transpired. Jason, or whoever he was in this moment, didn’t care who knew.
The lights were close now. In two minutes, they’d be coming around the bend with food, water and medical aide. He should have been happy, but it just wasn’t happening. It just wasn’t there anymore. Slowly, Jason reached for a scrap and put it in his mouth. As the juices gushed out of the tender meat with each bite, Jason sat back and relished the flavor. There it was; there was the happiness.
ElJefe58
Once is curious, twice is queer. Or so sayeth the man who isn't secure in his sexuality. Just because someone likes to experiment doesn't make them gay. Seriously, this topic might as well be the verbalization of a gay-bashing neoconservative circle jerk and/or orgy. Orgy. There's another word with negative connotations. You know, sex gets boring if one doesn't "mix things up," as they say. And who are they? They, apparently, are puritanical ninnies with no sense of adventure. Now, back to the topic at hand; if twice is queer, what is thrice? Extremely queer? Bordering on the pathological? AGAIN WITH THE JUDGMENTAL ATTITUDE.
Once written, twice shy. Whitesnake had the right idea:
I wouldn't mind if that hot cartoon chick desired to ride my snake. Is it just me, or does anybody else feel like hooking up the ol' VHS and popping in and rocking the fuck out to Heavy Metal? No, really - I have a pet anaconda named Mr. Pliskin. Mr. Pliskin and I share a platonic relationship, yet I'm not ashamed to admit that I love him. Therefore, twice is NOT queer because human nature is to seek out that which puts as outside of our daily norms in order to more fully experience life, such as man-snake love. How can an abstract concept be more powerful than love, be it heterosexual or homosexual or interspecies or extraterrestrial? Hell, Elliot loved E.T. and vice-versa, but they weren't considered a gay couple (although that rainbow trail left by the spaceship at the end of the film did have me wondering).
In conclusion, the aforementioned saying should be amended to, "twice is curious, once is queer." Thus, you're all gay if you haven't had sex with a man or a snake or an alien. And I embrace you. And you should embrace yourself. Many times per day.
Don’t forget to drink your Ovaltine.
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