Page 7 of Nearly Roadkill
AWESOME:So do you just naturally have a fucked-up attitude, or is this your way of weeding out certain people?
Scratch:What the fuck do you know about my attitude, dude. ::firing up weedwhacker::
AWESOME:Somehow I get the impression you’re a guy. If that is the case, bring the weedwhacker over here and I will demonstrate on you how it is used properly… ha ha. Your attitude is all fucked up. LOL.
Scratch:I don’t give a fucking shit in hell what gender I am… I try to leave it in the car with the windows rolled up as much as possible.
I like when Scratch and Winc send me stuff. It makes me more brave.
END TOOBE ENTRY
To:Editor, They/Them magazine
From:D.I. Drew
Subject:Scratch and Winc’s first chat
Hi Asa,
From everything I’ve been able to put together, the following is a true narrative of the first time Scratch and Winc hooked up online. Look at this dance and how it gets so steamy fast. Love it!
Then I found a gold mine: an entry from Scratch hirself about the first time ze met Winc. It was a themed chat room that was monitored so you could kick out trolls. Sigh. So nice to have.
Not only was that the first time Scratch and Winc met, it shows how long the two of them could keep a conversation going (if a “conversation” can include sex—and why not, right?). Does a long convo even happen these days? Where? Seriously, I’d like to know. Maybe we can ask people to let us know in the comments of an online version.
Cheers,
Drew
PS: There’s a lot of great sex in this. Not sure ifThey/Themcan publish it all. You’ll let me know, right?
NARRATIVE ENTRY, JABBATHEHUT
There’s a “pub” in the virtual world, which, despite the unlimited possibilities of description, the “patrons” have chosen to create as a slightly tacky lounge for more than tacky people to frequent. It’s all there—the polyester, the smoky haze, the blender drinks, and the elevator music. At any given time, day or night, this bar can be full of people, with a wide range of handles reflecting their status—usually heterosexual, married, and restless. They come because there are others like them; this is their first tentative step onto the worldwide connection to the Net.
It is here that Scratch has found hirself, bored out of hir mind but unable to sleep. Ze has signed on as Scratch, without a gender, waiting to see if someone else will fill in that blank. As ze fends off the third of a series of polyester advances, ze realizes wryly that ze must be giving off the scent of someone female, and muses on the invisible cues cyberspace somehow allows. Pissed off but curious, ze decides to give them what they want, but takes time crafting hir profile. Ze can see out hir window: riot grrls with backward baseball caps, combat boots, and skirts. They’re scary, angry, frenetic, and beautiful. Funny how even in this androgynous new generation, there is still a gender uniform for girls and boys.
“Okay,” ze says to hirself. “You want girl, I’ll be girl.”
Into this bar skateboards Winc, oblivious of the hour, the patrons, the atmosphere. He (for that’s the pronoun chosen at the moment) shakes the rain out of his long, dark hair like a puppy, again clueless of the startled stares his presence provokes. He turns on his “All Messages” option, allowing him to receive not only Private Messages from the other patrons, but also the news, public service announcements, and advertisements. In this virtual world, he sits down at the bar, orders a beer, and surveys the place.
“Cool,” he says. Onscreen is a lottery game, inset with a football broadcast, which he idly watches. He has a small waterfall tattooed under his right eye. His body is lithe, boyish, and he’s added a bit of mascara tonight.
Meanwhile, Scratch puts the final touches on “her” transformation. Unsuspecting souls checking her profile would see:
Member Profile
Name:Scratch
Occupation:Fully
Quote:Fuck your gender
? click here to read more
Of course, the “more” part is what Scratch is still working on. Immediately after creating her profile, Scratch starts receiving advertisements. Since she elected to receive more info about fragrances, she has been pelted with pleas from the fashion industry for her attention, her time, her body fat, her virtual crow’s-feet. It’s helping. Her profile is getting more solidly centered in “pissy.” By the time a pastel-colored layout urges her to buy the latest PMS medication, she’s in full swing: young, female, angry. She hits theREFUSEbutton hard, almost breaking her mouse. She recovers by surfing the other patrons’ profiles, whose scintillating conversation is revealed:
Online Host
