Fiction: Selections from Colin Gee
Visions of a woman in just plaid
She came to him in just the plaid bathrobe, it swinging wide, and those bulging panties, is how I was going to start the first chapter of my shemale exploitation novel, a book and masterpiece that would also be a hardboiled detective novel with a plot and language so convoluted no one would ever discover who had the real Black Bird of Blas Botello, who killed Skip ‘Toodles’ Banger, or the fact that Miss Dubuque was in way over her head from the beginning, in this big bad world full of pinch a penny copper scum, deadbeats, and guns that go off in your mouth.
Fingers poised, instead they crashed down with the opening line to my straight trade fiction mass market detective novel, and it was: She came to him in just the plaid bathrobe, it swinging wide, and those bulging panties.
Terror in a land terminal
I do not want to waste time with a written representation of the human expressing abject terror, with all the wailing and shrieking it entails, so I will type the words I heard in the land terminal as they might have been rehearsed by an actor in the weeks leading up to the incident, if it had been staged. Calm words, just the meat and sequence, to be interpreted according to the actor’s muse, the audience, the evening.
No, not me, mister. Remove your hands from me sir. I am not that kind of. I am a lady. I am going to my bus now. Help, sir, this man is accosting me. But you are mistaken. It was not me. I did never. I am no criminal. This officer is calling me a criminal when he has his dirty hands on me. Help me fellow citizens. Well I can’t go with you. I will miss my bus. You do not know me. You do not know how I can’t go with you. This is impossible. This is impossible. This is not happening. There are no people who are listening to me right now. Apparently I am alone in this crowd. There has been a terrible mistake. That man lies. He is a liar. You are liars. If I go with you I too am a liar. If I go back there it will kill me and you will have killed me, and are murderers. Look gentlemen, you cunts, I am here with my daughter but she left, I have family, I am a lady who is going to Tlaxcala you dirty son of bitches. Mother. Fuckers get your dirty cum hands off me. I did nothing. I do not know this man. He is a pervert. I can not go back there, you will kill me. I will kill me.
Colin Gee is founder and editor of The Gorko Gazette, a humor daily that publishes headlines, cartoons, reviews, and poetry. His fiction has appeared in Misery Tourism, Expat Press, A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Bear Creek Gazette, and elsewhere. (Portrait by @JeniRizio)