Background: A few years ago, I decided that I wanted to make a trilogy of books, with Lockpick Pornography being the first. I got the idea from watching Sympathy for Mr Vengeance, Oldboy and Lady Vengeance. And so, this is book 2: We All Got it Coming. I'm going to serialize it online for free again, though this time, instead of asking for donations if you like it, I'll ask you to buy a copy of One Bloody Thing After Another, which is my new novel, coming out in May 2010. It has lesbians and dead moms and headless ghosts. What more could you want? If you can't afford to buy a book, of course that's okay, please link this to your friends, and enjoy these chapters! We all got it coming. by joey comeau Chapter 2 In the morning I try not to look at myself in the mirror. I brush my teeth, spit in the sink, and then wipe my face. No need for a mirror. Clay goes in to brush his teeth, and he kisses me on the cheek as we pass. He trails his hand over my stomach. The telephone is ringing and it's probably my mother again. Nobody else calls this early. "Arthur, did you know a witch becomes more powerful when she goes through menopause?" she says. "Good morning, mom." I say. "I'm just getting ready for work." "There are two times in a woman's life when she has this huge surge of power. Puberty and menopause," my mother says. "Is that your mother?" Clay calls from the other room. "Clay says hi," I tell her. "Tell her I say hi," Clay says. He comes into the kitchen, wearing his uniform already. I don't put my uniform on until I get to work. I don't like leaving the house in it, even though nobody will see me. "She says hi back," I tell him. "Tell him I say hi back," my mother says. "The crows around here have been sitting in the tree outside my bathroom. They've been keeping me company. They must have heard that you weren't going to be coming down for Christmas. They must have realized that you'd be leaving your own mother alone for the holidays." "We are coming down for Christmas," I tell her. "One week is not Christmas." "Tell her I got to handcuff somebody!" Clay says. He takes the phone from me. "I got to handcuff someone!" he says. "It was my first time. A big drunk guy, too. He had a little fold-out nail file that he was waving at the blackjack dealer like a knife. I got to fill out a police report and everything." I pour myself a glass of water and listen to Clay tell my mother the story. I know that my mother sounds just as excited on the other end of the phone. They could talk for hours, if you let them. I should just tell him. I love you. I should just say it, all matter of fact. I point at the clock, and Clay holds up his finger. One second. "Okay," he says. "Okay. Okay, I'll talk to you soon." He hands me back the phone. "I don't like these mountains, Arthur." "You have a beautiful view, mom. That's why you got that apartment in the first place." I tell her. "I have to go. I love you." "I love you, too," she says. "Call me later, I'll tell you about my new friend. I knew those dance classes were a good idea. Clay was right. It's about time, too. I was starting to forget that they even made cocks that weren't silicone." "I have to go, mom." At work, I change into my uniform and pass Wallace on the stairs up to the floor. I keep my face deadly serious, until we are right beside one another, and then I wink. He stops. "Arthur, listen," he says. "I know you're just joking around, but people might start getting the wrong idea. We used to have a guy here who made jokes like that, and we joked for a while before I found out that he was actually homosexual." Wallace lowers his voice for this last part. "Oh I didn't mean to give anyone the wrong idea," I say, and Wallace looks relieved. "I really do like to have sex with men. I thought you did, too." This last part is too much. I know it even as I'm saying it. The expression on his face changes to startled and then angry almost immediately, and before I can backtrack or laugh it off, Wallace has shoved me. It takes me off guard, and I try to grab the railing of the stairs. He's got a disgusted look on his face and then my head cracks against a step. Wallace doesn't say anything as I pull myself up with the railing. He looks horrified now, though. Especially when I put my hand to my head, and it comes away with blood. "Oh fuck, are you okay?" Wallace says, but I'm already on my feet, and pushing past him to the bathroom. I close the door. Lock it. There's a bit of blood on my hand, but it's just a scrape. I don't know what to do with myself. There's a garbage can there, and I kick it as hard as I can. The side caves in and then pops right back to its shape. I put my hand to my head again, and there's nothing. No more blood. I'm fine. What am I supposed to do? Why is there no other door in here? I keep thinking, this is getting out of hand. But it already is out of hand, isn't it? When I finally come out of the bathroom, Wallace still looks terrified. "I didn't mean to do that," Wallace says, and his voice is quiet, like it was when he said the word homosexual. "I think you're a good guy, Arthur. You know I didn't mean to do that, don't you? I overreacted, that's all." I just stand there in the hall, looking at him. Shelly comes out of the break room, and walks between us. Wallace smiles at her like nothing's wrong. "Morning Shelly," he says. And when she's gone, he says, "I love this job. I know you think this company is stupid and shitty, but I'm good at this. I'm thirty-five years old, and this is the first job I've had where I wake up in the morning and feel good about what I do. I sell computers, and I'm good at it. They made me manager. I've never been a manager before. I love this job." And I can see that. I know that he's just trying to save his ass here. He pushed me down the stairs, and now he's worried that I'll rat him out, that he'll lose his job. But he always seems happy to be here. He's always cheerful, always smiling, even when he's dealing with an angry customer. He's always got a joke. He loves this job. He really does, and I don't know what to do. I'm sore and angry, but I'm not seriously hurt. If I report him, he'll get fired. And I guess that'll make me feel better, except I know that he'll start to actually hate gays then. You take away the one thing that makes somebody happy, and you're the bad guy. It doesn't matter if he deserves it. Nobody believes they deserve it. I report Wallace, and Wallace has his life ruined by a gay. And if I don't report him? Look at how terrified he is. His face is practically white. I'm surprised his teeth aren't chattering. He's not a bad guy. I don't know him very well, but I can't bring myself to see him as just evil. He's stupid. He's stupid and he pushed me down the stairs and threw away his whole career. This office supply store is his career and he pushed it down the stairs, and my head is sore and I'm angry and he's put me in this fucking situation where I want to let him off the hook. Where I want to save him from himself. "I won't say anything," I tell him, and he looks so relieved that I half expect him to hug me. "I'm going home for the day though. I have a headache." He starts nodding even before I finish my sentence. "Of course, of course," he says. "Thanks, Arthur." He holds his hand out for me to shake, and it takes me off guard. I shake his hand and immediately regret it. "Take the day off," he says. Halfway across the parking lot, I realize that I left my regular clothes back in my locker, but there's no way I'm going back. I don't even know if I'm angry anymore. I don't know whether this is my own fault for goading him. I can't tell what I'm feeling. There are tears on my cheek, and my hands are in fists, and I want to just kick in every window along this street. I'm supposed to meet Clay for lunch, then point out Wallace so he can make a pass at him, but instead I get on a bus, and I go home. At home I take off my uniform and I put it in the garbage. I sit down in front of the television in my underwear, to watch The Muppet Show. The Muppet Show always makes me feel better. It's hard to hold onto real world problems when you're watching something so fantastic. You can tell a lot about a person based on who their favourite Muppet is, I think. Clay likes Animal. He likes how wild Animal is. Thrashing at the drums. Chained to the wall, but always pulling against those chains. Always rocking out as hard as possible. I think that's what Clay wants to be, and that's more interesting than who someone is, sometimes. Nothing can calm Animal's simple enthusiasm for bashing those drums. My favourite Muppet is Gonzo. I love how crazy he looks, first of all, especially in the first season of the show. He's all purple and blue, with that long nose curved downward. I love how completely he devotes himself to his useless, insane performances. He's like Animal that way. He loves what he does, no matter how completely weird and baffling it is. Plus he looks like he's made out of garbage and he dates chickens! So. There's that. His song, from The Muppet Movie, has so many perfect, brilliant lines about being an outsider and trying to find a connection to something, anything. There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met. And, I've never been there, but I know the way. So, yeah. Gonzo is my favourite Muppet. No contest. Like all the best Muppets, there's a sadness to him, but he's not particularly sad himself. He's plucky! He's optimistic and enthusiastic. The sadness comes from this underlying sense of longing. Once in a while, that longing comes to the surface. There's a scene in a later season, where Gonzo is leaving The Muppet Show for a career in Bollywood, and he's up on stage singing that Frank Sinatra song, My Way. He breaks down crying at the end, with his back to the audience, and Kermit comes out and asks him what's wrong. And Gonzo says he's upset about leaving. So Kermit tells him, "But this is your dream! This is what you always wanted!" and Gonzo says, "I want to go there. I just don't want to leave here." Fuck, that kills me. I want to go there. I just don't want to leave here. It comes in the middle of the show, out of nowhere. That's where the sketch ends, too. Kermit turns to the audience and says something like, I guess we'd better leave him alone. And then on with the variety show. The singing vegetables. The dancing cheese! By the time Clay gets home, I'm smiling and cooking dinner, singing to myself. I haven't forgotten about Wallace, or today, but I don't need to think about them right now, either. I feel good about having thrown my uniform in the garbage. I don't ever have to go back. Tomorrow morning I'll wake up and start looking for a new job. I'll wake Clay up early, maybe I'll feel more like having morning sex. It'll be good. I feel optimistic. I cook dinner for the two of us, and afterward I pull Clay into the shower with me. I reach down for his cock, and he shoves me up against the wall to kiss me. I didn't see it coming. He's done this a thousand times. It's sexy. I like being pushed around by him. But when he shoves me today, it startles me too much. My shoulders hit the tile wall, and Clay is coming in for a kiss, and my eyes must have gone wild, because he stops and pulls back. "Are you okay?" he says. Table of Contents Like this? Buy a copy of One Bloody Thing After Another. Copyright 2010, Joey Comeau.