“Really?” he said, the anger in his voice growing. I was about to answer when he left the booth and walked over to the counter. He flipped through a stack of magazines to read while-you-waited, grabbed one, and strode back to me. “Spike had found some of these in the house where we were,” he explained as he opened a People magazine to a picture of Brad Pitt. “So this man must have cured a disease or is a mighty warrior to command ten million dollars a movie. A movie is one of the frozen plays such as we saw yesterday, correct?” I nodded, although I’m not sure he noticed, since he kept on talking. “I am assuming that ten million dollars is a lot of money, but I haven’t quite figured out your currency system yet. Forgive me if I am incorrect. But if what I read is correct, this man makes an exorbitant sum of money for doing nothing more than being handsome. How is that different?” Before I could answer he flipped the page to a picture of Angelia Jolie. “It says this woman commands the same amount of money, so together they must be like a king and queen. Am I right? And while we are at it, please tell me what a Kardashian is.”“I wish I knew.” I mumbled.”
“I am more a Star Wars person than Star Trek. Meaning most of my shit is made up and then later I come back and say I meant to do that from the start.”
“If she understood the difference between referring to me as "the gay guy" and using my name, the knowledge was lost between her vapid gaze and her single AAA-battery brain.”
“I don't remember the moment I knew I was broken...but I do recall when I started to understand that it might be okay. It was the moment I fell in love with the boy with the green eyes.”
“I realized I had moved from being a misfit in a culture I wasn’t a part of, to being a freak in a culture I was supposed to be in.”
“I had everything before I met you." he said, unable to make eye contact with me."Funny" I said with more sadness than anger in my voice. "I didn't have anything before I met you.”