The Ash Gray Proclamation (2002), part 6

Mackerel glances at Josh and sees an ugly whitish color that has to mean death’s in the mix. He starts rubbing his crotch to help counteract the unsexiness of his moral dilemma.

Mackerel: (somberly) He’s history. We’re like historians now.
Psychic: Now I’ll tell you the truth. I’m not just a psychic. I’m an Al Qaeda operative. He’s my mission. It’s all about semantics. Do you want to hear the story? It’ll curl your toes.
Mackerel: They already are. Maybe I’m psychic, because I already know what you’re going to say.
Psychic: I’m listening.
Mackerel: If I tell you, you’ll lose your hard on. But you’re a stalker. How’s that for proof?
Psychic: I love him. That’s where our cultural differences get in the way. In my culture, this is love if you’re gay. We’re not fancy about it. You think we live in caves because we like to live in caves? It’s a metaphor. We live together in caves until we find our own caves and fly away. I searched your country coast to coast, and this junkie’s ass is mine. Wait’ll you see it.
Mackerel: Like you’ve seen it.
Psychic: I didn’t have to. That’s just your literal American thinking. Don’t even try to understand it.
Mackerel: You’re big on words and concepts. If I were gay, I’d say God is sex, and seducing straight boys like me is the prayer. Josh told me his boyfriend had to rob a bank to make him gay. He said before then he was just another guy who couldn’t make the football team and turned into a stoner. Maybe he was lying, I don’t know. The past isn’t my thing. So I question your story. How’s that for being psychic?
Psychic: Maybe if I knew myself better, I’d agree. Your freedoms are intimidating. How’s that for honesty?
Mackerel: No offense. All I’m saying is your quest is nothing special. You and him are just porn. Death is sex. I mean my death, not his.
Psychic: So I should murder you too? I’m confused.
Mackerel: No, I’m just saying we should film it. Let’s say, hypothetically, I film you doing gay stuff to him. Then we upload the video onto a website, and charge guys to watch. They jack off and imagine they’re you and all that. Then at the end of the tape we put a little text that says, ‘Oh, by the way, the boy you just saw getting fucked and et cetera was dead, ha ha ha. You’re a necrophiliac. Busted.’ It might be like flying a plane into the World Trade Center, except a lot more profitable for us.

The psychic scrunches up his face in concentration for a moment.

Psychic: (laughing) I wonder who would win in a debate, Bin Laden or you? I’ll always wonder that.
Mackerel: You really need to chill on the Bin Laden thing. I mean if you guys over there in Afghanistan really want to be like the West.
Psychic: I sort of wish he was alive. I mean the junkie, not Bin Laden. Don’t get your hopes up. I just mean I wish he knew how much his ass will change the world. But I’m into S&M, so fuck him.
Mackerel: Not to disappoint you, but his ass is kind of hairy. Not that I’ve seen it. You could shave it, I guess. We do that a lot over here.
Psychic: (angrily) That’s so typically nihilistic of your culture.
Mackerel: Here, I’ll show you. It’s not a trick. You could do it too, for future reference.

Mackerel tugs on one of the legs of Josh’s jeans until there’s a naked foot of calf, and rubs one finger gently through its modest thicket of blondish-brown hairs.

Mackerel: See that? That’s how you know.
Psychic: I don’t believe you. You’re just superstitious. I know all about superstition. When you’re poor and live in the desert you think all kinds of crazy shit.
Mackerel: You want to bet? You’ll lose, though.
Psychic: (laughing) Sometimes I forget you’re only 13 years old. Sure, I’ll bet. What’s the wager?
Mackerel: Okay, if it’s hairy, there’s no God. And if it’s smooth, there is.
Psychic: How about if it’s smooth, you can rim him for a second. It had better be. In Afghanistan, it’s a sea of hairy asses. That’s why we’re all pedophiles.
Mackerel: Maybe I’m wrong, but with these calves, it would be a miracle. Anyway, to us a hairy 16 year old ass is exotic. I’ve never even seen one.
Psychic: Wait, what’s the bet again?
Mackerel: If I’m right, you’ll give me enough of that heroin to kill me, and if I’m wrong, there’s no God. But let’s just do this fucking thing and move on to something else that we agree on like my future.

(to be continued)