Chapter 2
Greg Polakoff was annoyed, and slightly appalled.
He was starting to realize he would have to break up with his beautiful boyfriend, and the thought depressed him. He had been dating Philip Seymour Hoffman for about 3 months now, and it had gone well in a lot of ways. The problem was the sex.
You see, gentle reader, Philip and Greg had met during a dramatic rescue of one of Greg's best friends, Andrea Warner. During the rescue, Philip's partner, Billy Bob Thornton, had pulled out a magic wand and turned Philip into a helicopter so that they could escape a yacht that was about to explode. Which was fine, but during all the drama, Billy Bob had somehow misplaced the magic wand. So unfortunately, Philsee was now a helicopter permanently.
Greg had tried to make it work. At first he was overjoyed that Philsee had picked him over his best friend, Mikey, who had also been extremely interested in Philsee. Apparently Philsee was uncomfortable with Mikey's unusual habit of slapping his penis with a tennis racket when the mood struck him.
Greg and Philsee had had a lot of fun together in the beginning. Philsee had taken him on scenic rides over the coast mountains, and sometimes longer trips, like to visit Hoagie on the beautiful, exclusively homosexual island of Aborigene.
They just couldn't get the sexual aspect to work. The main problem was that Philsee was really just a helicopter with a head. He didn't have much feeling in his interior. He could give Greg blowjobs, or Greg could rub his tallywhacker on Philsee's seats or steering wheel, but Philsee always just ended up getting frustrated because he could not really experience true pleasure. Eventually it got so that Philseecopter didn't want sex at all. And that was something Greg couldn't handle.
He was thinking about all this while walking down the street to meet his friend Emily. They were meeting for a drink at the Fountainhead, a quaint neighbourhood gay bar on Davie Street. He figured he would ask Emily for some advice on how to end it with Philsee. He felt so bad for Philsee; the guy would probably have a hard time finding another boyfriend, since he was a helicopter. Not many guys would be that accepting.
As he walked towards the bar, he saw Emily sitting on the patio, but she was not alone. She had with her a woman and a man Greg had never seen before. There was something about the man that intrigued him right away. It may have been his lustrous afro or the bright pink comb he was using to comb it.
"Hey Greg!" Emily called. He walked over and sat with them.
"Who are your friends?" Greg said seductively, looking at the sensual, charismatic afro-man. He noticed that the man was wearing red leather pants, and the crotch area of the pants seemed to be throbbing, becoming a brighter shade of red with each throb. It was hypnotizing.
"This is my friend Michelle, we went to high school together," Emily said.
"I don't give a shit about the snatch, who is this king I see before me?" Greg yelled. "Is it the Greek God Testocoles?"
"That's my boyfriend, Loverboy!" Michelle said protectively.
"Don't be a rude Gus, Greg," Emily warned.
"Loverboy? As in, 'Everybody's workin' for the weekend' Loverboy?" Greg said, eyeing Loverboy's magically throbbing crotch again.
"That's the one," Loverboy said smugly.
At that point, a thin, cloudy stream of drool exited the right corner of Greg's mouth and landed on Loverboy's right leg. Greg was making a noise that sounded a bit like a crazed hyena. He dropped to his knees and started licking his own drool off Loverboy's pants.
Emily had a flashback to when Greg and Mikey had first met Philsee. She was just glad that Mikey wasn't there with his tennis racket.
"Just what do you think you're doing!?" Michelle yelled, standing up. She pulled a hockey stick out of her pocket and was about to hit Greg over the head with it.
"Simmer down, all of you!" Emily yelled. "You're all out of control! Can't we just have a beer without this ridiculous behavior?"
Michelle and Greg both looked sheepish. "Sorry sorry sorry," Greg muttered under his breath as he got up of his knees. Michelle reluctantly put the hockey stick back in her pocket. She was still eyeing Greg suspiciously.
In the window of the Subway restaurant across the street, a shadowy figure watched the action at the Fountainhead with a smirk on his face. He was wolfing down a meatball sub menacingly, and he mumbled to himself as tomato sauce dripped down his chin.
"You may have put a temporary stop to the trouble, my sweet," He screeched. "But what you don't know is that the trouble is only beginning."
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