something happens to us?”
Which is the moment when Brad loses it. He flings my hand away, opens his eyes, staring right at me. “What the fuck are you talking about, Jack? What if what happens to us?”
Okay, don’t laugh at me…But I’ve actually been worrying about this ever since Brad proposed the whole JEH séance idea. I mean, if JEH really was G-A-Y…What if he was like a Total Pervert or something? Here we are, a couple of young and reasonably attractive boys. Who knows what he could try to make us do when/if he appeared to us?
Of course, Brad—being the sicko he is—wants to know exactly what I’m blabbering on about.
“Well,” I begin, “have you ever seen that movie The Entity?”
“I don’t think so…” Being that his family can’t afford Cable, how could he?
“It’s all about this woman who’s raped by this Evil Spirit,” I explain. “Over and over again.”
“Sounds kinda hot…Maybe we should rent it sometime!”
“I’m being serious,” I whine. “Nobody believes her when she tells them about it and there’s nothing she can do to stop it from happening.”
“So…?”
“So…What if JEH tries to do something like that to us?”
Brad hesitates a moment. I can see he’s thinking over what I’ve just said, carefully weighing our options. “You mean something sexual?” he ponders.
“You know what they say about guys who are like that,” I remind him.
“I never thought of that,” Brad admits. “But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.” And with that, he rises to his feet, pulling the string on the overhead ceiling fan/lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. “Ohm…Ohm…” he continues.
For like the next hour!
Okay, I bet you’re wondering what happens…Does the spirit of Jon-Erik Hexum ever appear to us? And if so, does he take advantage of the pair of helpless 14-year-old boys who want nothing more than to unlock the truth behind his mysterious demise? Does he?!
What do you think?
Do They Know It’s Christmas?
“There’s a world outside your window
And it’s a world of dread and fear…”
—Band Aid
“Where to next?”
I can’t even believe Brad’s asking me this question…With only twelve Shopping Days left till Xmas, here we are running around Universal Mall like Chickens with our Heads Cut Off. Does he not realize he’s the one who needs to shop and should have planned out exactly where we’re going?
Every Christmas back when I was a kid, my Mom would take me to see Santa Claus at Universal Mall on 12 Mile and Dequindre. Which is pronounced “Dee-qwin-der,” in case you can’t figure it out. Not the real Santa Claus, mind you. But one of his very convincingly disguised Helpers. After giving Santa’s Helper my “What I Want for Christmas” spiel, I’d go for a ride on the carousel in front of his Village before my Mom would treat me to a frozen Coke and giant soft pretzel—hold the mustard.
Of course, back then it was called Universal City. I’ll never forget the humongous mosaic on the building’s façade depicting Saturn and her rings, smack-dab in the middle of the Universe. I could stare at it for hours!
So far Brad and I have been to Kresge’s, Crowley’s, and Montgomery Ward’s. On top of spending forty-five minutes in Spencer’s looking at Chippendales greeting cards, don’t ask me why!
“I’m getting my Mom a book,” Brad decides. Then he heads off, weaving through the crowd of other Xmas Shoppers towards where he thinks the bookstore is located.
B. Dalton’s is a Total Nightmare once we find it. Full of rummaged-through display tables and scattered books everywhere! Though a stack of 1985 Garfield calendars remains perfectly intact on their shelf. But maybe it’s because Garfield is sooo 1982.
“Any idea where they keep the Danielle Steel?” Brad asks. Like I’d know.
“You’re getting your Mom a Sex Book for Christmas?” I question. I can’t even imagine Brad’s Southern Baptist Churchgoing Mom looking at a trashy romance novel, let alone reading one.
“Hell no…You think my Mom would even look at that trash, let alone read it?” he responds, reading my mind.
“Then who’s it for?” I wonder. Though I’m pretty sure I can figure it out for myself.
“Duh!” he answers. Then he makes his way to the back of the store.
I follow Brad into the stacks marked “Adult Contemporary Romance.” I can’t even believe some of the titles: Leftover Love…A Ruling Passion…Dark Remembrance. And the covers! Half-naked guys with long flowing hair. Totally hairless, totally muscular bodies.
“Check this out,” Brad says, handing me some piece of trash he’s just found on the shelf.
“‘They wanted to love…in a world that worshipped only pleasure.’” I read the words printed on the cover. “Gordon Merrick…Now Let’s Talk About Music.”
A dark-haired, well-tanned, shirtless man wearing light blue swim trunks rests poolside, a chilled bottle of champagne on ice in a silver bucket beside him. On the man’s right shoulder rests a diamond pinky-ringed hand…Belonging to that of another man!
I shove the book back in Brad’s direction, hoping nobody’s seen me touching it. “Gross!”
He echoes my sentiments with, “I know!” Then he reads me a passage, all about some guy named Ned totally coming onto another guy named Gerry.
To which I reply, “That’s disgusting.”
“Wait…It gets better.” With dramatic flair, Brad continues to the part where Ned drops down to his knees…and gives Gerry a blowjob.
“Gross!” I gasp, looking around to make sure nobody’s paying attention to us. Which nobody is—thank God!
“Pretty trashy, isn’t it?” Brad smiles before adding, “Let’s buy it!”
I can’t even tell you how shocked and totally appalled I am at this moment. Which explains why I blurt out, “No fucking way!” Which is probably the first time I’ve ever used the F-word in my life.
“Jack!” Brad gasps in mock-horror. “Your Mom is gonna wash your mouth out with soap when I tell her what you just said.” Then he laughs.
“I mean it,” I tell him, putting my foot down. “We are not walking up to the register with that thing and buying it!”
“Watch me,” says Brad. Then he walks right up to the register and hands the trashy book to a middle-aged librarianesque-looking lady working behind the counter. “Good afternoon, Ma’am,” he says politely.
Without blinking an eye she tells him, “$3.95, Dear.”
At which point, Brad turns to me. “I need to bum a dollar, Jack.”
To which I hesitate…Before reaching into my JC Penney Plain Pockets and pulling out a $1 bill.
“Merry Christmas,” Librarian Lady says once our transaction is complete.
“Merry Christmas to you,” Brad replies, all sweet and innocent. Then to me he says, “Let’s get the fuck outta here!”
Five days later, we’re back at my house…
“Oh, my God…I had another one!”
“When?” I ask. Though I’m wondering if I really need to know.
“This