The Boy Zone and the Hall of Justice
A few days ago through my Boy Zone trek, a Mitsubishi Adventure slowed down beside me, just short of stopping. It moved on, made the roundabout, and slowed down beside me again. Perhaps I wasn’t yummy enough for him, for he moved on, stopped near a fresh-looking thang and lowered his window. Fresh Thang approached Adventure, but I wasn’t able to make anything out of their conversation. Adventure soon sped off without Fresh Thang; the bargaining proceedings must’ve been faulty.
After gym and coffee last night, I walked home, passing by the Boy Zone as usual, and the selections were surprisingly quite plentiful. I counted five, two of whom were standing in the shadows of some selected tree, one sitting visibly by the sidewalk, and two in mobile mode. They were all well within spurting distance, but I didn’t dare look at any of their faces.
One of the mobile agents had a brilliant strategy: “I will walk ever so slowly with my shirt raised to expose my chiseled midsection.” When I passed by him, I peripherally saw his head turn towards me. Sorry, love, but I ain’t that kind of guy.
Anyway, I continued on towards the Hall of Justice, which is the 24-hour fastfood joint situated near the entrance of the village. I call it the Hall of Justice because there seems to be a meeting of the superpowers every late night I’d go there. Apart from the normal Joe’s and Jane’s, there’d be a bunch of gay guys of various orientations immersed in conversation. There would be the straight guys in their tight muscle tees as well, though it’s not always clear if the gay guys and straight guys belonged to a single team, or functioned as independent operatives. I’d joke to a friend, “Every night they convene to discuss their next earth-saving mission. This place is a great cover-up.”
Maybe the denizens of the Boy Zone and the Hall of Justice have a co-op relationship. The Boy Zone kids are the surveillance and intelligence arm, while the Hall of Justice folks act as the front liners. Maybe they just overthrew a sinister plot to overthrow the government, involving extra-terrestrials and magic-wielding timetravellers. And maybe we have to thank them for keeping our country safe from evils we never thought we had.
Then again, maybe not.
A few days ago through my Boy Zone trek, a Mitsubishi Adventure slowed down beside me, just short of stopping. It moved on, made the roundabout, and slowed down beside me again. Perhaps I wasn’t yummy enough for him, for he moved on, stopped near a fresh-looking thang and lowered his window. Fresh Thang approached Adventure, but I wasn’t able to make anything out of their conversation. Adventure soon sped off without Fresh Thang; the bargaining proceedings must’ve been faulty.
After gym and coffee last night, I walked home, passing by the Boy Zone as usual, and the selections were surprisingly quite plentiful. I counted five, two of whom were standing in the shadows of some selected tree, one sitting visibly by the sidewalk, and two in mobile mode. They were all well within spurting distance, but I didn’t dare look at any of their faces.
One of the mobile agents had a brilliant strategy: “I will walk ever so slowly with my shirt raised to expose my chiseled midsection.” When I passed by him, I peripherally saw his head turn towards me. Sorry, love, but I ain’t that kind of guy.
Anyway, I continued on towards the Hall of Justice, which is the 24-hour fastfood joint situated near the entrance of the village. I call it the Hall of Justice because there seems to be a meeting of the superpowers every late night I’d go there. Apart from the normal Joe’s and Jane’s, there’d be a bunch of gay guys of various orientations immersed in conversation. There would be the straight guys in their tight muscle tees as well, though it’s not always clear if the gay guys and straight guys belonged to a single team, or functioned as independent operatives. I’d joke to a friend, “Every night they convene to discuss their next earth-saving mission. This place is a great cover-up.”
Maybe the denizens of the Boy Zone and the Hall of Justice have a co-op relationship. The Boy Zone kids are the surveillance and intelligence arm, while the Hall of Justice folks act as the front liners. Maybe they just overthrew a sinister plot to overthrow the government, involving extra-terrestrials and magic-wielding timetravellers. And maybe we have to thank them for keeping our country safe from evils we never thought we had.
Then again, maybe not.
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