My muscles and me were pumped.
My car, on the other hand, was not doing as well. I had gotten it back from the body shop and they did the best they could but the driver's side door would not quite pull all the way shut. I didn't worry about it getting stolen. I mean, who the hell would want to steal it? And anyway, wouldn't it be great if someone did? So I left my car in the Mocha Daze parking lot with the door falling off its hinges. I laughed at myself, realizing it was a pretty good metaphor that summarized my life.
There were only a few patrons, most of whom I didn't recognize, except for Hugo who was slipping a few quarters into one of the computers.
"You make yourself pay?" I startled him from behind.
"Hey!" He was glad to see me. "You gotta help me out. I can't figure out if this chat person is a girl or a boy."
I looked at the screen:
"Pseudo-hermaphrodite, looking to talk toa sexual being on a plight for higher peaks."
"Did you say you were a gay guy?" I asked looking over his shoulder.
"No, I said 'I was an insatiable bad seed with eroticism on my mind.'"
"Oh my God Hugo, you said that?"
He started laughing so hard he could only nod an affirmative.
"Well, you got some attention. Answer him."
Still laughing, he garbled, "what should I say?"
"Well, you did pretty good with that line, so keep going."
""Okay, then. How does this sound? 'Hot and nasty lion in search of some top sirloin.'"
"That's stupid. Let me try." And I typed,
"I am a very yummy packageand am dying to be spread open."
"That should give it away that I'm a chick," I said. Hugo pushed send. We waited, and giggled.
Finally, the reply was,
"I haven't had a present of that sortsince my teens, but you sound intriguing."
"Well, what the hell does that mean?" Hugo asked.
"Well," I said, "it could be a friend of Dorothy who went out with chicks in high school or it could be a hetero chick who had some lesbianic experience in the past. Or it could be a real hermaphrodite."
"Oh please. Okay, whatever." Hugo jumped off the stool. "Go girl, just ask straight out."
"That's no fun," and I typed,
"I like to kiss, I like to touch, butbreeder I'll never be. How about you?"
"You're still not going to know if it's a man or a woman." Hugo defended.
"Just wait."
The reply, "the only breeder I've ever loved is my mother."
"It's a gay guy," I shouted.
"How do you know?"
"First of all, we know he/she liked women in the past because of his response to my 'spread me open' comment. Now obviously he's some sort of guy because only men need to announce their love for their mothers."
Hugo was impressed and I jumped off the stool. "He's all yours Hugo, but I hope Kurt doesn't find out."
