The New Flesh

“So, Andy,” William said. “Why do I have to take my pants off again?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay.”

Andy puffed on his cigarette and stuck his hand between the couch cushions. “Then when you’re done pulling your pants down I want you to do me a favor.”

“You mean this doesn’t count as the favor I owe you?”

Andy laughed. “Are you kidding me? You owe me, like, a thousand favors.”

William stood in front of the couch, naked from the waist down because he had refused to wear underwear since he had banged his kindergarten teacher way back in third grade. He looked at Andy’s face: that pallid mask of regret and lost hope. Then he said, “I kinda thought we were even since I did that other…..thing for you.”

Andy waved his hand. “That was small potatoes, Billy.”

“No one calls me Billy. Not anymore."

Another puff of the cigarette by Andy. “Bend over, Billy.”

Four hours go by and the cigarette hangs in the air like a loser cloud. William watches sweat drip down the bridge of his nose, making him cross-eyed and half-delirious due to his morbid fear of sweat. He cleared his throat. “So Andy,” he said. “You think we can wrap this up?”

"Jesus Christ, Billy, I’ve never met someone so impatient."

“Stop calling me Billy.”

“I’ll stop calling you Billy when you start acting like a man.”

William sighed. “But you know that’s impossible.”

More cigarette smoke. “Nothing is impossible.” Andy leaned his head forward, getting a face full of sweat. “NOTHING.”

"So Andy"

Copyright: © 2011 Jordan Krall

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