Thirty five years ago, I was in Heaven, just chillin' on a cloud, hangin' with this really fabulous angel, who told me that the only real requirement to be a gay man is that you must like cock, after that it's all paperwork.
Well, I liked cock well enough, so I signed up. Turns out there was a ton of paperwork. Sign this, initial this, sign this, suck this... Afterward, I was led down a corridor and into a large room with a sign that said "GIFTS." It was full of fags lined up to receive the special gifts that would enable them to thrive, as it were, in the real world. Set up like a job fair in a disco, there were booths for everything from Interior Decorating to Glam Rock. Others included Gaydar, Hair Styling, Dancing, Fashion Sense, Flower Arrangement, Potpourri, Culinary Skills, No Gag Reflex, the list was endless. I had just started to get excited when suddenly a loud siren went off and the lights flickered. A deep voice with a Southern accent filled the room saying: It's time, boys! I had never spoken to God directly, but somehow I knew it was him. Everyone started to panic, running toward the exit. Lights were flashing. Boys were screaming. Confetti and streamers shot out of nowhere for no apparent reason. It was fag-demonium!
"Wait," I shrieked. "I haven't gotten any talents!" An angel working the Nervous & Theatrical booth handed me an entire box full of N&T coupons and said: "Honey, just take these and GO!" Then he flew away, as I watched my fellow homosexuals flee. Soon, the room was empty and I was alone. I held onto the Nervous & Theatrical box and wondered why these two things came as a package. I was depressed already and a stray balloon bounced off my head. I bent down to pick up a couple of other coupons that had been dropped in the scuffle, but they were damaged, ripped or fragmented. I grabbed as many as I could. Some, I couldn't even make out what they said, I just stuffed them in the box. The voice came back. "What are waiting for, boy?"
"I didn't get to pick out any gifts," I replied. "I just got stuck with these." A soft, yet thunderous, rolling chuckle filled the air. A bit of movement in the DJ booth caught my eye.
"Son, you are gonna be fine! You have everything you need. Why look, you have an entire box!"
"These all say: Nervous & Theatrical. What does that even mean?" I asked God, cautiously approaching the booth.
"You'll see... Boy, now go! Walk out the door, just turn around-" And then he nudged me, using his God Powers, toward a tunnel type thingy that had magically appeared.
"Wait," I protested. "I didn't get a copy of my contract! I want to see my contract!" God just laughed and flicked me like a bug into the tunnel. Gloria Gaynor echoed through the tunnel as I left Heaven. He was the DJ after all. I don't remember much after that because: Sha-Pow! I was born.
And that, Children, is exactly how it went down.
In order to avoid the inevitable nervous breakdown I seem to have every year on my birthday, we have escaped LA.
JR, Mitch and I packed up and headed for the desert, our families, familiar territory, and the ghosts we love. There is nothing that compares with Mom's homemade Carrot Cake. Just a quick trip to help clear our heads. Last night as we drove down the interstate, we were given an extraterrestrial escort for part of the way. Aliens or angels, I just hope they were delivering the rest of our gifts.
Enjoy my birthday!
I love you.