The Gay Foot Soldier

Normally I’d sit back and tell you guys about my day and the things that are on my mind and what not, but today is not one of those days. My brain has been pickled, you see. Someone, I’m not stating names and I’m not making this up, hinted that I am not funny enough. I get that, and I’m open to criticism of all kinds, also this criticism opened my eyes and opened my eyes to there being a scope of improvement. Thank you, mystery critic, seriously... There's no sarcasm there. This wasn’t just criticism though, because after I poked at it further, I noticed that my viewership is on a steady downward spiral. I started off with a couple of hundred views a day and then it depreciated into about 50 and now I’m at about 40 something views a day. This saddens me, because I’m a writer with no life other than this. Yes, I did say that in a desperate attempt to get you people to like me. No, I don’t think it worked out quite well. In any case, I’ve decided to test the waters a bit and do something that’s been unlike me, thus far. Here’s a little piece of fiction that I’ve put together especially for you, all 40 people per day of you. I call it – The Gay Foot Soldier.

THE GAY FOOT SOLDIER –

Elliot John was in the middle of celebrating his eighteenth birthday. His parents decided to surprise him by inviting all his friends over to the house bright and early. They even bought him a big cake. Elliot wasn’t particularly fond of baked goods. He was surprised that this three tier, pink, wedding-cake-replica was sitting in the middle of his living room. Not just because it was a giant pink cake, but also because he was lactose intolerant. He always had been. Did his parents just simply forget about that minor detail? How could they? When he was just an infant he’d throw up after breast-feeding all over his mothers bosom. When he was a teenager, the mere smell of dairy would leave his bowels coiling like a python in heat. Just on his last birthday he was sent into a spree of severe depression because his friends decided to have White Russians: A dairy based cocktail. His guidance counsellor requested him to go see a shrink to overcome the sadness and hardships of coping with a normal life sans dairy.

“Happy birthday honey!” His mother shrieked. She grabbed him and clung on to him for dear life.

“Thanks mom. Why the pink?” He asked, confused.

“Oh, erm… You see, honey…” tears began flowing down her cheeks, “Dan.. A little help here.”

Dan, Elliot’s father, was a retired policeman. He was forced into early retirement when a stray bullet ricocheted on his groin, fracturing his pelvis. He still walks with a limp to this day, but that’s irrelevant… He stepped in because his wife was short of words, “Son… We know you’re gay, we always have. So we thought we’d make this birthday party a double celebration. Happy Coming Out Day to you!” he yelled as all his friends clapped and cheered.

“I’m not gay dad!” Elliot yelled. Gasps filled the air, every person in the living room was whispering something into someone else’s ear.

“Really?” Elliot’s mom asked, confused, “Then why are your pants always so tight? Oh and why do you have pictures of men all over your room?”

“I have two posters in my room, An Elton John one and one with KISS on it!” it felt as though people were judging him for saying the word 'kiss.' Some people even nodded and mumbled, “Yup… Definitely gay.”

Elliot felt the sudden need to elaborate, “You know... the band? Knights in Satan’s Service?”

Elliot’s mother fell into Dan’s arms and sighed, “Our son is in a cult!”

Dan held onto his wife and looked over at Elliot, disappointed. “Are you crazy? Next thing we know you’ll be telling your mother about how much you like Lady Gaga!”

“What’s wrong with liking Lady Gaga?” He asked. No sooner did the words escape his lips than the gasps and shrieks in his crowded living room filled the air.

Elliot began walking towards the front door, dodging people on his way out. All his friends and family members were chanting, “Gay boy! Gay boy! Gay boy!” as he made his way to the exit, he stopped at the door step, exasperated and issued a proclamation, “I am not gay! You’ll see! I’ll go do something manly with my life!” He walked out of his house and slammed the door shut. After having done that he felt extremely guilty for possibly hurting the door and stood on the front stoop for five minutes apologising to the door. When he felt he had settled his debt with the door, he was on his way.

Elliot made it his life's sole purpose to prove to the world that he wasn’t homosexual. He never thought that there was anything wrong with being gay, but the problem was that he never wanted to be pegged as something that he was not. In fact, Elliot was so pro gay that he attended all the Gay Pride Parades; he even made placards supporting the cause. He was very proactive when it came to causes he supported.

Thus far his mission had been extremely unsuccessful. He had gone to the barbershop and gotten a haircut. He normally wore his hair parted, with one eye always being covered in his luscious and well maintained locks. The problem was that Elliot had to spend most of his money on the barber because he decided to get his hair cut by the very hands that cut Simon Cowell’s hair. He loved how Simon’s hair was always perfectly in place. There was nothing wrong in wanting a fancy haircut, absolutely nothing homosexual about that, he thought. The only problem with that was that it reduced his clothes-shopping budget significantly.

He walked into the cheapest clothing store he could find to rid himself of the tight denim pants that he always wore. He had to shop in the children’s section because he was so thin and scrawny. No pants in the adult section would ever fit him. The children’s section in the shopping market was quite bizarre. They had ballerina outfits and Cowboy outfits; they had nothing that would make Elliot seem less gay than he already did. After hours of searching he finally found a camouflage army costume. “This’ll have to work!” he thought. He went into the little kiddy trial area and put it on and came out to check himself out in the mirror.

“Oh honey, you look so adorable in that thing!” exclaimed an old lady from behind him who was wearing the store uniform; a badge pinned on her chest indicated her name was Donna. Elliot was glad that someone that wasn’t his mommy was appreciating him. “But can I suggest you go to the store down the street? They have clothes suited for people of your particular… Persuasion.” She said.

“My persuasion? What persuasion?” he asked, baffled.

“Oh, you are a Lesbian, aren’t you?” Donna asked, sincerely.

Elliot was furious. He handed the lady 20 dollars for the outfit and stormed out of the store, on his way out he yelled, “I’m not a lesbian!”

Donna chuckled. “Oh those lesbians. They’re all such lovely people. It’s a pity this one’s so far in the closet… One step back and she’ll be in Narnia.” She said out loud, to no one in particular.

Elliot was furious, his face, however, was leaking no emotion. He marched furiously to the placement agency where he had set up a meeting. He needed something manly to do as a profession, he was thinking of something along the lines of hosting a talent show or managing a boutique. You know, real hands on stuff.

On his way there a young boy yanked on his mothers arm. The boy pointed at Elliot and said, “Mommy, mommy… Look! It’s a soldier!” This saddened Elliot ever so deeply. He had tried hard to look good and be a respectable element of society, he had tried ridiculously hard to be himself, after all his efforts at trying not to be pegged as something he is not; this boy insisted on ruining his mood. The boy could have said nothing and let Elliot be nothing but another person in the world, instead this little hooligan was calling Elliot a Soldier! The horror!

Elliot hunched his back and looked the little boy square in the eyes and yelled, “I’m not a soldier!” he marched off as the boy burst into tears clutching his mother’s waist.

Elliot was distraught by the days happenings. He knew there was nothing in this world for him. He decided to end it all. He walked up a hill where couples went to make out and stood at the edge of the cliff, staring down at what was to be his fate, the end to his torment, where he was to meet his maker, and other such proverbs and euphemisms.

He looked up at the sky and said, “Today I’ve been called a lot of things that I am not, and I can’t live a lie anymore.” He wiped a tear off his cheek as he set one foot off the cliff, kicking tiny rocks to the ground far, far below. “I’m not Elliot anymore!” were his last words. A large “SPLAT” like noise followed when his body hit the ground.

The next day the headlines read: “Gay/Lesbian foot soldier committs suicide at make out point.”

So you see, inside each one of us, is a person that we are not. Whether you’re an artist trying to break free or a handyman trying to move up; or even if you are a flaming homosexual like Elliot.

“I’m not fucking gay!” Elliot yelled, from the afterlife.

fin.