[Marilyn Manson]

When you wake up at 12:00, even though you set your alarm for nine. Because, you know, you have things to do.

So you get up, and eventually hit the streets. It's incredibly hot, far, far too hot. You don't like this.

So you go back to your flat and take a second shower of the day.

To prepare you for the night ahead.

Which you know will be good to some degree.

It will involve lots of dancing to music you like, and lots of drinking.

And there's a woman who you are pretty sure has a fancy for you.

She's old. But she's hot.

You know the least you will get out of the night is a snog.

You do some dancing in your room to The Smiths.

You're eventually ready to hit the streets.

The club night starts at half six.

You get there at about quarter to eight.

You start settling in, thankful after a hard day that you are in good surroundings. You chat to someone who is making some clothes for you. Things are going well.

But you notice that the woman who was occupying your thoughts earlier isn't there.

Based on previous experience, this is perculiar.

You begin to wonder if she isn't coming.

Time passes.

You eventually get up, to go on one of your frequent forrays to the DJ box. By this point you fear the worst.

You get taliking to the DJ, who you know fairly well.

You eventually get onto the woman in question.

"I can't see Pat here tonight, though."

"Yeah, I got a third-hand message that she can't make it. She's ill."

:O

You wander off, utterly despondant. Not only would this woman have been a catch, but she would also have financed your entry into another club and further drinking when this night finished. Another club which now you cannot afford.

You have this all confirmed by your dressmaker friend.

You just drink, and smoke, and dance when you can. There's nothing more to do.

Eventually, your thoughts begin to focus on a boy who is there.

He is wearing a dress. He usually wears a dress. Although you paid him scant attention on previous occassions.

To you, there is nothing perculiar in this. You've seen it, and much more, all before.

You gather from talking to people that he may be something of an insecure loner.

But by golly, you find the dress kinky.

You keep focusing on this for the rest of the night.

You drink some more.

The night comes to an eventual end. You didn't win the raffle. Again. For the forty-eight time. You shout "It's ****ing rigged!", as you usually do on these occassions.

You hang around near the bar. People start leaving.

You keep an eye on the boy in the dress.

He begins to change near the bar area.

Again, you find nothing particularly weird about this. Everyone acts normally.

You catch a sight of what looks to be women's underwear.

He's finally fully changed.

You start tentatively stepping over towards him.

"I like you better in the dress. Very kinky. Rrrrrrrrr"

He looks at you, rather startled.

You realise momentarily that you have encoutered someone who is very insecure.

You talk a bit. He generally speaks too fast for you to follow.

You walk down the steps to the pavement outsaide.

You start talking some more.

You make it as obvious as possible that your are, for the purposes of this conversation, a predatory faggot.

Eventually, you get around to the question at hand.

"I'm straight, otherwise I'd be totally up for it. I wish I was bisexual."

What? You are too outraged to move. This is such a deep, deep betrayal of everything you have come to expect. You don't even know what it really means.

You just want to go home and nurse your wounds. You are semi-drunk and you've had enough by this point.

He's obviously not going to shift his position.

You leave him, as he edges closer to the taxis, with a hug, and a promise/threat that you will follow this matter up at a later date. You consider running to the end of the street and then shaking your fist theatrically, for effect.

You head home and buy a £2.20 buger on the way. You would be better eating a postcard, for all it does to fill up your stomach.

****.

"Bastard, utter, contemptible bastard", is all you can think as you make your way home.