Fabulous Boy

Fabulous boy… I saw him in snippets. In a vision. In an alley. In memory. First I saw him in the mirror. A withered silhouette was chased off by the glaring gold beams. Might and purity bled from each hard line of his face: high cheeks, sockets like cages, a Roman bridge and nostrils like Nicks. His face was tended to with a great degree of obsession. Pretty. Pink. Angles cut themselves through his fleshy-marble face like the artisan's chisel in stone.

If it were not for the nudge of a stranger I’d still be lost in awe at his handsome charm. Jolting thrusts pushed my throat down into my stomach allowing all the shock to shake my eyes free. The Fabulous Boy had a slim Jim neck and sharp collar bones. Obnoxious bones like that are either deadly sharp or destined for a break. His shirt had fluttered past a seemingly nonexistent belly and beyond his crouching spine. Holes were torn all through him. The Fabulous Boy wore all the lies beneath his chin.

Years later… I walked with a pestering limp through the streets of Broadripple. Every step I took zapped scores of lightning bolts from the center of my kneecap. Those fucking hips of mine ground through each movement like an old dog prowling the tree line for his last nap.

I’m the last of the old race, the human man. We were the perishable legion. Some of us still walked the earth in our natural skins. Men in their colored skin flaunted what women would desire. Women fashioned themselves into idols with a softer touch so that men could never truly master that which they had flocked to. Others were sadomasochistic, they couldn’t give up the real sensations of pain and pleasure that the whole human body could produce. A good few had sent themselves in exile to mosques and the temples.

Broadripple was an old world scene taken prisoner by the new creatures. They galavanted through the mole tunnels of the tattered bohemian clubs with smiles on their faces and silicon in their veins. Spritzers and glitter bombs douced every beast on the command of the snarling fang. The new creatures of the world took us by storm with kind words and bitter licks. They conquered our failing order with the promise of new bodies to be worn instead of old flesh and endless euphoria instead of sensible hearts.

The good few saw this for what it was, a dumpster fire.

I limped down the sidewalk where I once held Haleys hand, where I had drank with Daniel, and near the place that my father had raised me. Then I saw him once again. Again I was taken back by his appearance. The Fabulous Boy was crouching in an alleyway corner with muck on his feet. His figure was gaunt and hole ridden. If it weren’t for that droplet of charm in his eye I’d lose him to oblivion, totally. Rose red cheeks. Stipples of hair on the chin. Secrets beneath a gaze. The Fabulous Boy shot up.

Boy was left over from our world. Boy was cast out from the Hebrew temple. He never lost fights but he never won either. He went through the veins in his arms. Then he went through the veins in his legs. Another time the Fab Boy tried shooting it in his neck. When I had seen him he swapped between hand and foot. In that moment the needle drew from the webbing between his pinkie and ring fingers.

He looked at me with one crazed eye, the other eye had turned over, white and milky. Cool winds froze the sweat on my back. Boy waddled towards me dragging his left foot so the other would stay right. Still, his face held to youth. He lunged. As he hurled at me a deep howl had broken out from his chest.

Suddenly, his body had fallen away swiftly into the shadows of the alley like dust fading into the horizon. Cracks and squeals had scrambled out from the fires engulfing his head. His face became a hot ball of sorrow, crowned by the fires of hate.

I saw a man thrashing his fears at me. I saw a threat. Then what else had I seen that chilly afternoon? A white face, pure as cotton and furious as hell?

The Fabulous Boy was no more. No pen, camera, or microphone could reference him. He’s just a snippet in my memory.

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