Date: Mon, 18 Feb 2002 08:44:53 -0700 From: Clone Buggs <cqsqfq@hotmail.com> Subject: Shifting Gear Chapter 9 Chapter 9 The call from John was waiting for me on my beeper when I checked it again. I didn't actually know it was him, until I called. The four of us were killing time in my room at the motel. The twins were watching cartoon shows on television, Ross was trying to sleep a little without much luck because the boys were yucking it up over their daffy toons and pounding each other with ham sized fists every time something struck their funny bone. I'd been returning calls for about ten minutes most of which were pointless, or of little interest. I dialed the next one not expecting much to materialize, and heard an old man answer. "Hello. I'm returning a page I received earlier." "Oh, you must be Gerry. Harold told me all about you this morning. He faxed me first thing, and I called him to get the details. He assures me you are the genuine article." Thank god for Harold. "John?" "Who else?" "Man I've wanted to talk to you about your beeper." "I assume you've been enjoying it as much as I did." "It's been incredible. I've only had it eight days now, but I've never had more or better sex since I got it." "Well, I guess it was just luck that another homosexual got it in the draw. I often wondered what would happen if some unlucky straight person got it." "Well, from the offers I've had, he'd have to have balls of steel not to get turned on by some of the offers." He chuckled. "If you don't mind my asking, how long do you think you'll be keeping it?" "You mean you want me to turn it in?" "I haven't given it a lot of thought, but perhaps you could build a little black book of names so to speak, then pass it to a friend in need. Sort of share the wealth. I learned one thing after I won the lottery and had the money to do what I wanted with the rest of my life. The world is full of lonely frustrated people that live desperate lives in near isolation because society finds them different." "You sound like a philosopher John." "Yes, I think I have become a bit of one with age. I'll trust you to build your personal list of friends for as long as you need to, but then I expect you to return the beeper and get a different number. I will do my part by running the ads and writing the number in way stations I encounter in my travels." "You don't still practice?" "I dream, but the time has come in my life that the plumbing has ceased it's proper functioning. I'm an old old man now. My latter years were wasted in wonderful dissipation in every despicable act society frowns upon, and I regret not a single moment. Winning the lottery set me free from society and its boundaries. I'll die a happy man, and perhaps my little beeper number will live for the rest of time, bringing cheer and happiness to all who will possess it down the years." "John, I'd like to meet you sometime." "Oh I think not." "But your beeper has changed my life. I'd like to show my appreciation in some way." "But my dear boy. you've already done that. You follow through with my plan for the beeper, and one day perhaps you will receive a call from the next owner begging for information. It will be your turn to pass on the framework of my plan. Stress to him that he is to follow it exactly as you have, and then pass it on as well. Can you imagine, within a few years, the network will be enormous, and my goal will have been achieved." "What is your goal John?" "Why, the end of the closet Gerry. I want the door ripped from its hinges forever. Those fragile souls who fear contact will find it easier and easier to come out of the shadowy depths of that hateful self imprisonment, until one day every homosexual will walk proudly with his or her head held high to take their place in society, and we will have grown by then into a better world." "You've thought about this for a long time; haven't you?" "Yes I have. I won the money when I was forty-three years old. At first, I squandered it on my selfish needs. I bought street hustlers, kept young men to do my bidding sexually, and generally made a despicable nuisance of myself. I don't really know where the idea came from that germinated in my mind, it was just there one day. I set about putting my house in order so to speak and came up with this idea of how to make my money work for more than just my own pleasure." "So do you still find sex interesting?" "Infinitely dear boy, but no longer possible for me as I've said." "How long ago did you win the money?" I was hoping for some information that would help me identify him for my own selfish reasons. "I seems like only yesterday, but it has been decades now." "Was it a lot?" "Oh my yes. I no longer receive the checks, but I didn't really need them after the third or fourth one. I won an important jackpot. The money has been put into trust funds to create college scholarships, Aids research grants, emergency funds for those suffering from the disease, and several other charitable organizations I felt were worthy. The beeper however is strictly for me. I must be going my boy. I'll keep in touch occasionally by phone, but I don't think you should hope to meet me." "Why is that John?" "My concern with the disease should provide you with a clue." "You have Aids?" "For some time now. I played so unsafe for so many years. We didn't know back then, but by the time we knew, it was too late." "But how?" "How am I alive when so many others are not?" "Yes." "Money my dear boy. Money. I've had the best care it can buy. The new drug cocktails even make me feel like there could be hope on the horizon. Who knows?" "May I at least call you occasionally?" "I'm in a sanitarium currently, and have no direct phone line to my room. Don't worry, I'll call you from time to time and we'll chat. And Gerry," "Yes?" "Thank you for your concern. Play safe and preach it please." "I do John. Thank you." He hung up, and I felt my eyes sting and wiped a tear away. I hung up the phone, and glanced at the clock. It was time to get ready to free Joe of his burdensome lover.