Homophobia Is Gay

Several minutes passed before the electronic bell sounded, letting the students out of their horrible educational prisons for recess. I jumped up from the court and bounced over to the nearest bush. The last thing I wanted was for someone who disliked me to see me and punch me into outer space. I weaved my way into the green shrub, snapping branches noisily. My nose crinkled as the smell of a decaying creature reached my nose. Mhm. That must be the remains of the USB stick kid. Unfortunate story to that kid, there is.

I felt something tickle the tip of my finger. Usually, this is a bad sign. Unless you are in a pet store, or are in your bedroom, where fluffy things are always present, then you should be worried.

I held my hand up to my face to see what was soiling my perfect finger tip. A little black ant scurried over my finger, in an attempt to find my brain to eat it and turn me into a wereant. Ugly creatures, wereants. Not even the power of make-up and plastic surgery, let alone botox injections would help the poor, fugly wereant victim.

I yelped and shook my hand in a crazy-institute-person way before exploding out of the bush as if my butt was on fire. Wereants: you can never be too careful. I flailed my arms around for a few more seconds before collapsing into a distressed heap on the ground. Don’t worry, I do this often. I’m not infected by leafy-green shrub disease [also known as leafus shrubaticus horribilus mucas-plantasius. Like, ew, even the name sounds disgusting]. At least, I hope not.

Something prodded me in the side. I flicked my head up and hissed, scaring a little elf-like kid with glasses the size of Neptune’s elbow [the planet, not the merman. Mermen aren’t real, idiot]. He dropped the stick he was poking me with and stumbled around the corner of the building. Pfbbt. Don’t look at me like that; planets have elbows, too, you racist little spork spawn.

I dragged myself along the footpath, attempting to get the attention of someone in order to help me recover from my assault. If only more people really knew what it was like to be threatened by a wereant and then a Neptune elf man armed with a disgustingly brown stick.

I’m telling you, if I was a chicken – which I wouldn’t want to be – then I would’ve stopped laying eggs a loooooong time ago. Gah. Everyone is just stressing me all the time; I’m going to get wrinkles. And cancer. Which means I’ll have to get chemotherapy which means that they’re gonna have to shave off my hair. Um … I don’t think so.

“Porsche … what are you doing?”

I stopped, mid-crawl and turned my head to look at Raoul. I narrowed my eyes before dragging myself over to where he was standing. I hugged his legs and dry-sobbed. Yeaaaah … I’m not the type of person who’ll cry in public; make-up, hello. I have a reputation to withhold.

“Oh-em-gee, Ray. There was a wereant and an elf.” Raoul looked around nervously and pulled me up by my arms. Hahaha. He actually looked embarrassed to know me for a minute, there. Awh, got to love little Ray.

“They all abused my lovely skin, look at that,” I held up my finger and made Raoul see where the wereant had tried to bury underneath my skin, “and the elf, he broke my rib and nearly bit off my head.” I sniffed and looked up at Raoul; he looked down at me with his usual exasperated expression. I wrapped my arms around his chest and breathed in his scent. He smelled like poor fashion sense and smoke and red liquorice.

I closed my eyes and smiled, burying my face into his dark hoodie. Raoul cleared his throat. Hmh. He sounds tired. Poor love. I think he spends too much time worrying about what I think of him.

I pulled back and beamed. “So, what do you wanna do?”

He shrugged, mumbled something inaudible and tugged on the back of his school pants, in a poor effort to pull them up and over his boxers a bit. Hm. I see he’s not wearing the Jeffree Star ones I got him for Easter.

“Young, blah-bleh-blah, man,” an ear-splitting voice, several octaves higher than it should be, came from behind me. I did my best shifty eye movement, directed at Raoul of course, before turning to face the person who had spoken. My face twisted in horror as my eyes saw the terrible face – or should I say, the upper lip – of the speaker. My mouth gaped open and I stumbled backwards as the woman-Nazi-Hitler began to talk again.

“Blah, blah, bleh; blah-bla … blahhh, school uniform?” She tapped a clip board she was tightly hanging on to with a pen. I bet you she catches people breaking rules and violating Nazi protocols and writes their name down on the clip board so she can later on gas them in the school gym.

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, my eyes transfixed on the Hitler moustache she sported on her upper lip. I looked up at Raoul and jerked my thumb in her direction, lowering my voice so she couldn’t hear, “Well if she isn’t a German Hitler woman, then I’m not perfect.” I caught myself and giggled, “Pfft, but I am perfect, so …” Raoul rolled his eyes.

The Nazi-ette marched towards us and widened her eyes. Dear me. She really shouldn’t do that; especially when it results in her right eye almost bugging out of her head while her left eye shrinks back into her skull.

I pressed myself against Raoul’s side, intimidated by this German Nazi impressionist. She tapped her clip board harder and faster. I feared that she might snap the pen and call on Satan. Or whatever German devil they had there.

“BLAH, Blaa-hhh bleh; DETNETION BLAH BLEH HITLER BAAH, BLAH!” She barked, stabbing the pen inches from Raoul’s face and nearly corroding my skull with the annoying tone of her voice. He leaned his face away and watched the end of the pen, his eyes wide. How dare she do this to my BFFL. Hehe ♥.

I puffed out my chest and marched up to her. Looking up into her furious red face, I stared her down. She stared back, her Nazi moustache bristling with anger. I narrowed my eyes and went onto my toes, stabbing my finger into her face.

“You listen, Nazi idiot Hitler poser: leave Raoul alone or I’ll come after your moustached babies. I’ll draw love hearts on their foreheads and then throw them into the baby pit of dead babies for Nazi babies. I’ll get Adolf Hitler, or whatever you wanna call him, and I’ll gas you both out in the gym. And then I’ll eat all your ice cream and put mud prints on your ceiling.” I pulled a face at her and strutted off towards the school exit, dragging Raoul by the arm.

“BLAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The Nazi woman howled, throwing her clip board down to the ground. I’m pretty sure steam exploded out of her ears and nose; something exploded, for sure. As for her babies, I don’t know if she has any or not, but I’m pretty sure she would’ve strangled them or burnt them to death by now.

I threw a quick glance over my shoulder. Her eyes burned crimson, – literally – her hands balled into tight fists, and her short hair … didn’t move or do anything threatening.

“Er … that was a pretty poor argument, no offence,” Raoul sniffed and swiped at his nose with the sleeve of his jumper. “I mean, ‘eat your ice cream and draw love hearts on your babies’ foreheads’?”

“It’s alright; she only speaks Russian, anyway.” I waved my hand, dismissing the topic.

Raoul raised his eye brows and pushed his lips out, “Ahem … German,”

I ignored him and skipped out of the school gate, peering down at the foaming snail which had inconvenienced me earlier. Raoul crinkled his nose and grabbed a stick to poke it with. Poor little foaming snail. I wonder how it gets on with life, knowing that its ugly face will never be beautiful – like mine. I silently mocked its frothing self, receiving sympathetic looks from Ray.

“Um … excuse me,” Someone called. I stopped mid-mock and stiffened. Whipping around, I sized up the person walking towards us.

Raoul narrowed his eyes at me, “Who’s that?”

Omfg it was Keyru. Hmh. Shame about his name … I grabbed Raoul by the shoulders and shifted him in front of me. “Oh my god, Ray, it’s the hot guy from the taxi. What’s he doing here?” I peered over Raoul’s shoulder at Keyru. His hair flipped as he looked down and then up again.

“You forgot this,” He held up a green umbrella and shook it. I inhaled sharply and narrowed my eyes, stepping out from behind Raoul.

“Oh no, my umbrellaaaaa.” I whined to myself, clapping my hands together. Who knows what the ve-hi-cle guy could have done to it. This thought made me crinkle my nose in disgust. My poor, poor froggy umbrella. Oh no; he could’ve infected the pole with fish disease, or the contagious moustache virus. Never, I tell you, will you see me with hair on my face. You always see the old bikers and … old people in general, with food stuck in their beards and boogers in their moustaches. I shuddered.

I glanced up at Keyru [why am I always the shortest? I bet the elf kid is taller than me, too] as he stopped in front of me and smiled, holding out the colourful green umbrella. “I thought you might want it back; in case it started raining again, you know.”

I closed my mouth and took the umbrella, immediately tucking it under my arm to comfort it. Distracted by Keyru’s face, I absent minded-ly began to stroke the green material. He blinked and tried not to look concerned by my behaviours.

Keyru glanced over at Raoul. “Hi,” he said, stretching his mouth into a smile. Ray jerked his chin up in approval. An awkward silence, capable of causing a thousand bad social situations, fell like a blanket over us. I pressed my lips together and marched past them both, swinging my umbrella around and hitting Raoul in the head. He cried out in annoyance. I ignored him and kept walking along the footpath. He’ll get over it. I’m sure he can’t like, die or anything from being hit by behind.