Wacky Wednesday

···Jack···

I woke up the morning of Luciana Diamonte's BDSM Dungeon Party feeling super excited.But the excitement—if that's the thing to understand—feels different from my usual excitement.Like when I woke up alive and kicking twelve hours before Wellston's biggest—okay, only—annual BDSM event, writhing under the covers in a show of joy… …my body feels heavier than normal, my limbs are thicker, my abdominal muscles are stronger, and my jaw opens wider when I yawn.I saw feet protruding from under the quilt, which looked familiar, but something was not quite right.I rolled over, completely terrified.

Note ①: Wellston, located in Ohio, is a small city.

Because I'm lying on my side.

Generally speaking, it should be my partner Amon lying next to me, not...my own body.I must still be dreaming, I thought, closing my eyelids tightly.But when I opened my eyes again while muttering "wake up, wake up, wake up", Amon was still missing.And the other me, with a straw-colored chicken coop head, drooling and falling asleep.

I look at my feet again.Suddenly, I realized why I thought it looked familiar.

Because this is Amon's foot.

I check my hands, they also belong to Amon.I put Amon's fingers on the face, and felt for the outline of a nose that I had drawn with my tongue, with my lips, with my own fingers.

—Amon's nose.

Amon's wide, flat eyebrows.Ammon's shelf-high cheekbones.Amon's thick and smooth hair.My own chest is white, flat, and thin; my ribs are lined with furrows like plowed fields.Now I have bulging chest muscles, mountains, peaks and plains——Amon's chest.I reached into the sheet with one hand and found it—yes.

I touched Amon's big uncircumcised cock.

I cleared my throat and said in Amon's voice, "Uh?"

Jack's shell lay next to me, motionless.Nothing surprising.When I was still in that shell, I could continue to sleep soundly for 15 minutes with the alarm clock bombarding me, until Amon couldn't hold back and threw down the coffee in his hand, rushed into the bedroom, turned off the alarm clock, and pulled me out of bed .

This reminds me.The alarm clock?? It was put back on the shelf.

Amon will not let it be left in place.Last night, at the height of our battle, I just threw the alarm clock on the floor.The battle blew when I stopped by Amon's office to surprise him with Chinese takeout and ran into Bernard Wittmeyer.

***

Amon was the director of personnel at A&L Financial Corporation, a very large corporation on the west side of the city.In the two years I've been with him, I've never been able to figure out what Amon or the company actually does.All I know is that Amon doesn't like it when I pronounce the company "Alf" in front of my friends.

I occasionally hear Amon talk about arbitrage, employee mobilization, and pre-deal valuations on the phone.I wondered what it was like for him to live under the same roof as me, a West Virginia redneck who dropped out of college four years ago and only recently masochistically wanted to try again.His two-week paycheck was almost four times my SAT score.

Note ②: That is, the American college entrance examination.

A&L's Director of Recruiting was poached not long ago.Amon wanted to fill the vacancy, and was under so much pressure that he was about to collapse. A&L is "thinking" about hiring someone named Bernard Wittmeyer—although according to Amon, the status quo is more like they're crying out for each other to take over.They reimbursed him for the airfare to fly here from California for the three-day test; reimbursed him for most of the food and lodging expenses; , That day we originally made an appointment to watch "Pink Killing Night ③" together.

Note ③: BodyDouble, a 1984 old American thriller movie.

According to Amon, Wittmeyer's resume is flawless.He is also gay with a husband, which makes Amon even more enthusiastic about him.Two gay gay men who are out at the same time in the same flamboyant financial firm?Watch out for the straight ones, we gays are coming to split up your CDs!

Only I judged right away that the arrival of Bernard Wittmeyer was not a good thing.Amon likes to laugh at my so-called "intuition", but I've always been good at reading people.Besides, it wouldn't hurt to think of Wittmeyer as a scheming dick with a successful villain and a smile on his face.

"Oh," Wittmeyer said, squinting at Amon as he shook hands with me, "How many prairies did you find before you decided to pull out this young grass?" His Teeth are whiter than a Chinese takeaway lunch box.

Amon pursed his mouth in disapproval, and that expression flashed past.Soon he laughed dryly again.

"I actually delivered it myself," I said. "He didn't pull it out."

Wittmeyer ignored my words. "And he bought you lunch. You've done a good job with him, Monterey."

My heart sank.Well trained?Amon wasn't going to tell Wittmeyer the details of our relationship, was he?I took a deep breath.No, Amon never will...unless the two of them are super invincible buddies now.Unless they drank a little wine together last night, and then Amon was slipped by the rhythm of the other party: Ha, yes, in order to make my family more honest, I have to spank his ass from time to time.

I bypassed Wittmeyer, went to Amon, and put the takeaway on the table, "If I knew you were accompanied by someone, I should have ordered a bunch of fried cat meat for you."

"I'm not hungry now," Yamon was concentrating on the form in front of the computer, "but it's very kind of you to think of bringing me something." But looking at him, he doesn't seem to think I'm so kind, Seems like I'm messing with him.

"Then I'll put the rice in the refrigerator." I walked towards Amon's small refrigerator and noticed Wittmeyer staring at me. "Speaking of the fridge, let me tell you, Connor and Beth got into an argument over Stephanie—"

"Can't you take it home?" Yamon interrupted me, "I'll eat it later."

"Xiaomeng doesn't need this kind of food with a lot of fatty acid glycerides," Wittmeyer's laugh is sweet, just like him—his gelled hair, his blue eyes, his tight body The tailored black suits are all so impeccable, "He has to stay in shape if he wants to hold you in."

All right.First of all, who on earth would use the word "advanced what ester" in everyday conversation?Secondly, what Wittmeyer did is too outrageous. What does the age difference between me and Amon have to do with him? Is it worthwhile for him to come and point fingers?Again, Xiao Meng?He came here for a total of two days, and he even called Amon by his nickname?

"Amon has locked me up without doing anything," I said.

"Yeah, you're right. Xiaomeng is very popular," he put his hands on Amon's shoulders, "maybe you should pay more attention to him and don't let him run away with others."

If I stay here for one more minute, I won't be able to hold back the mapo batter on his head.

"I've got to go," I told Amon. "I'm going to see if I'm doing well in geology."

"Yeah." He replied.

The phone on Amon's desk made a sound: "Amon? Gardner is here."

Gardner was clearly more important than this spreadsheet because Amon stood up. "I'll be right back," he said, leaving me in a room with the greatest idiot of the century.

"Are you still in school?" Wittmeyer asked.

"Correct."

"the University?"

"Community college."

He nodded. "It's cheaper than a regular university, and there are fewer things to do, right?"

I feel like I've been punched.My hero could have come to my rescue at this point - he didn't have the Colorful Clouds, but at least he had a crimson tie to set off his green eyes.

But it was impossible, because Gardner came.

"Let me tell you this, the reason why I chose this university is: its remedial courses for scumbags are the best in the country." I shook my head.

Wittmeyer's low laugh made me uncomfortable, as if he knew exactly how annoying he was to me, and was quite pleased with it.

"Amon said you were very funny. We were talking about you yesterday."

I tried my best to look like I wasn't frightened at all.

"is it?"

"Amon is a good guy. I know he's under a lot of pressure right now. It's nice to see him relax a lot when we're out together."

I don't want to imagine Amon relaxing next to Wittmeyer, going to a high-end bar together, business people to business people, talking about the heavy responsibility, leading by example, and doing what it takes to test people. vision, or imagine Wittmeyer putting his hand on Amon's shoulder when the opportunity arises.

"He's a nice guy," I snapped.

Wittmeyer stared at me.

I look back at him.

"Where are you from, Jack? I like your accent."

Well, I don't have an accent at all.Ever since the day I moved out of Hicksville, I've been trying to fix my drawl.But sometimes, especially when I'm provoked, the West Virginia Southern accent becomes apparent.That's when my "village car voice"—the accent I grew up in in a large rural trailer home—emerges.

"Green Sulfur Springs, West Virginia."

"My mother's family is also from West Virginia. It's a beautiful state with a lot of poor people."

This sentence pissed me off. "Is that where your bastard blood came from? Or is it your paternal blood that made you such a bastard?"

"Jack!"

I turn around.

Amon stood at the door, his expression seemed to say to me: Congratulations, Jack Parker, you have successfully attracted my full attention.

"What?" I said angrily.

If I were captured by enemy forces and forced to dig my own grave, I would definitely be able to finish the mission in about 2 minutes.I'm an expert at digging my own grave.

"Apologize." Amon's voice seemed calm.

He didn't seem to think at all that I might not be at fault.He didn't even look at Wittmeyer, just stared at me.I muttered, "Sorry."

"It's no use talking to me. Apologies to Mr. Wittmeyer."

I thought I'd put my five-year-old years behind me for almost 20 years, but it doesn't look like this.It's clear I'm not a good enough adult to have Amon humiliate me like this in front of my new nemesis.

I looked straight at Wittmeyer, "I'm sorry you didn't know how to maintain a polite conversation." I walked out of the office before they had time to react.

At this moment, I have several options in front of me: Among them, stabbing myself to death with a chopstick may be the most effective and safest; since I am poor, it is unrealistic to go to Swaziland with a fake document ——What's more, I have to take the risk of being caught by Amon in the end.

I still have a third option: go home, wait for Amon, accept the punishment I deserve, and after everything is over, curl up with Amon and sleep with him, with a sore butt, full of guilt, but I will also be forgiven by Amon .Maybe we can still finish "Pink Killing Night".

The way Wittmeyer treated me blew me away.But "insulting someone your boyfriend desperately wants to hire their big company" is probably pretty high on the list of "someone with even the slightest brain would never do it".

But it's pretty cool to attract Amon's attention like that.This is not easy.In the past few days, unless I annoy him by making trouble in front of him, Amon can hardly spare the time to think about me.

When I got home, I was so anxious that I couldn't even eat tofu.I hugged my cat named Allen Kingsmeow for a while, but he didn't want to be sucked by me and kept hitting me in the face.I got up and grabbed a two-liter bottle of soda from the refrigerator, and went to the study to see if my grades had posted online.It did log out, and I stared at the screen to see I had a D+.

Note ④: Allen Ginspurr, "Beat Generation" poet Allen Ginspur's cat version.

I closed my eyes, hoping it was just a mistake, and hoping that the score would be higher when I opened it again.I don't expect to get high grades, but I think it is at least a C-.I've learned to vomit blood in the past two weeks.But when it comes to the exam, my mind freezes, and it happens every time.

I drank most of the bottle of soda and held back my tears.Then I got into the toilet and cried.I slapped the mirror, leaving a big oily handprint on my reflected stupid face.It took me about 10 minutes to calm down, wash my face, take a deep breath, and walk back down the hall.Just then, the phone rang.

It was Amon calling.

He was probably planning to kill me in the slowest, most creative way possible, and was about to call me with the details of the whole murder plan.

I pressed "Decline".

The Wittmeyer accident itself was not enough to send me to the gallows.But it is a continuation of a series of bad boy behaviors I have committed in recent days, including: staying home after curfew for two days in a row; losing my temper when I was about to go out to take out the trash; Trying to get home on time but staying up late at work throws his toothbrush in the litter box.The last item is more like a statement, and has no real impact on him; Amon has at least nine spare toothbrushes in the daily necessities cabinet, which are divided into soft, medium and hard according to the bristles. .

I stuffed my phone in my pocket, took my keys, and headed straight for Lemmy's.

My friends Beth and Connor, plus me, go to Lemmy's on Tuesday nights.It's a habit I've had since I started studying at Wellston last spring.Tuesdays are a buy-one-get-one day for the table hockey games in the restaurant, so we play our hockey combos every week.I especially need to sit in Lemmy tonight to forget about my fucking test scores and my impending doom.It wasn't even five o'clock when I arrived, so I ordered drinks and drank while I waited for Beth and Connor to show up.

Around [-]:[-], Amon called me again.This time I took it.

"Where are you?" he asked, his tone unexpectedly not murderous.

"outside."

"When are you planning to come back?"

Hmm?? Not coming back?

"I don't know." I took off a small piece of "Shy Purple" nail polish on my thumbnail.

"I want you to come home and we can talk."

"I'm outside." I repeated.

"You're out every night, even this weekend."

"I won't go out on Sunday."

"Are you drinking?"

I glance at the third half-full bottle of beer on the table. "No." At such a critical moment, I definitely can't say no.

"Why don't you go home?"

The offer to "go home" is tempting.No matter what went wrong, no matter how big a crime I was, Amon always kept me safe first.In the few months when we were just in school, I used to avoid him on purpose.That was before I went to school, when I was working at a sandwich shop.We had a rule that if I was going to be home after six o'clock, I would call him.But sometimes, after get off work, I would sit in parks near our home, by the river, or even on top of indoor parking lots in the downtown area, waiting for him to come to me.

He always finds me and is never mad.He doesn't yell at me, scold me, drag me home.He would just sit about one meter away from me, without saying a word, exuding a calm aura of "this is not a problem at all", which calmed my nervous nerves.When I was on my own, I took the initiative to find him, and he was not in a hurry.Even if it's cold, even if he's sitting on the ground in work trousers, he still hugs me for a while.

I don't know why I have to do this.He never asked me why.

He also punished me for not following the rules, not because of a whim.

I've always respected him as an attacker, as a partner, as a man.

But recently he has changed.He kept asking me how many times I went out, how much I drank, how much I got on the test.After I passed an anthropology exam for the first time without fear of space, he stopped making time to help me study like he did last spring; I got a B- on that exam, and he thought I was dizzy. The problem has been cured.He was dead wrong - just look at my geology grades.

If I complained to him about how my studies were not going well, he would reply "You have to learn to manage time" or "You will do well if you work hard", and "You think you are stressed and have the ability to try to do it for a day." My job."

All right.It's all because I'm not smart enough to find a job like his, and it's all because I can't even take courses in community colleges that are obviously "much less involved than regular colleges".After all, not everyone in the world can be Amon Monterrey.He works [-] hours a week, but still manages to find time to exercise, maintain balanced nutrition for three meals a day, and watch every new Hollywood psychological horror movie and give an analysis.

I don't know if I can still count on Amon to provide me with shelter now.I don't want to be punished by a partner who is under a lot of stress.I also don't think I have anything to apologize for what I said to Wittmeyer.

I hung up the phone without saying a word and finished my third beer of the day.

I was about to order the fourth bottle when Connor took a seat at the booth opposite me.

"'Grandma's Tattoo,'" he said, holding up the wine list.

"What?"

"Your tattoo parlor could be called this. I've been thinking about it today. You can specialize in getting tattoos in weird places. Little girls' tits, for example."

"Spending my life staring at other people's tits, I really have a pursuit."

"Okay, that's called 'tattoo tattoos.' Jesus," he shuddered, "can you imagine what it would be like if someone tattooed a bruise on your dick?"

"I'm not going to open a tattoo parlor."

The waiter came to fetch the empty bottle from the table.Connor patted the wine list at him, "Please bring me a bottle of 'Delta' clear beer, and a cheese fries." He swept the salt grains on the table with his hands and spilled them on my lap. "Of course you won't."

"I can't drive, but I want to work in a tattoo parlor. Maybe."

"Come on. The reason I've been thinking about this is because I was talking to my cousin today and he said you can always practice with his tattoo gun."

"Where is the tattoo?"

"Tattoo yourself. Or his wife, my cousin does, he tattooed his wife on both arms."

"Well."

"What's wrong? You're not in the right mood."

"tired."

"I get you, man. Play hockey and you'll be on your feet. If Beth isn't busy getting Stephanie to get her a connection with the Duchess, it's almost here."

I nodded, "That's good."

He tilted his head, "Okay, tell me."

I really didn't have close friends growing up, Connor was an exception, at least that's how I understood it.He wants you to confide in him.He may be a bit rough and a bit shy, but he's serious about our friendship. "Confess what?"

"Did you quarrel with Amon?"

"Uh." Should I say it has nothing to do with you?

Or does it actually have something to do with him?I always find it weird to talk about my relationship with Amon with others.It is difficult for me to tell outsiders frankly about our situation without mentioning "family law".I can tell Connor that Armon and I had a fight.But I couldn't tell him that after a few hours of air hockey, I was going home to get spanked and our argument would end.

Here comes Beth.I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fuck," Connor muttered.

She brought Stephanie with her.

Beth and Stephanie started dating two weeks ago.Connor was terribly jealous.He and Beth had been roommates for over a year.Stephanie was a constant presence at their apartment, and Beth mentioned her every few minutes.Connor was going crazy.

It kind of made me want to chop them both off with one knife.

I thought it would be better to play with four, but just by the look on Connor's face, there's no way he's going to play hockey with Stephanie.Beth, Stephanie and I say hello.Connor ignored them both with a dirty face.

Within half an hour, Connor was judging them, making sarcastic remarks.Beth was pissed off.She threatened Stephanie that if it happened again they would leave. "You really should go," Connor said.

"Don't mind. Nobody's allowed to get up," I said, "except me and Connor. We're going to get another drink. What would you like to drink?"

Beth and Stephanie talked about what they wanted to order.Thankfully, Connor followed me to the bar.

"She's so annoying," he whispered.

"Which one are you talking about?" I asked.

"Both of them. But it's Stephanie's fault for making Beth like this."

I patted him on the shoulder, "Think of her head as a hockey puck."

Connor smiled.I feel more at ease.I have always been very good at quickly dissolving Connor's anxiety.

We got our drinks and went back to the wine table.Before the game, everything was peaceful.

As it turns out, Stephanie is an excellent hockey player.She abused Connor in the first round.

Connor was annoyed.

Stephanie told him not to worry about it, come on.

Connor is gone.

I was in no hurry to go home, so I stayed here, played ball, had a few drinks with them, and made a little picture on a tissue.

"Nice drawing," said Stephanie, sipping her fourth rum and Coke through a straw, "do some more."

I did as I was told.Stephanie stuffed my drawings in her pocket: "I'm going to put these on the wall."

I don't know why this makes me so happy.I also paint a lot at home.I don't expect Amon to put my picture on the refrigerator, and I'm not a seven-year-old kid.But sometimes I wish he'd paid more attention to them.

Stephanie noticed that I looked nervous and verbally described a few yoga poses that she thought would help me.I suggested going outside so she could show me.Soon we were out on the sidewalk doing some drunken yoga.