"I'M NOT LISTENING TO THAT QUEER!!!" It's my roommate screaming from his bedroom in the tiny trailer we share.
"SHUT UP!" I reply dancing in the Living Room, "IT'S GOOD STUFF!"
The trailer shakes as he slams his feet on the floor and marches into the Hall to see me dancing and singing, "For here am I sitting in my tin can ... far above the world ... Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do ..."
Jerking the needle from the stereo, blowing air out of his nostrils, Bob Courson is a lover of Christ who's easily offended by the British.
"What'd you do that for?" I ask standing in my whitey tidy underwear.
"He's a Queer! I don't listen to Queers."
He does listen to ... The Bill Gather Trio ... over and over and over ... until I want to slit my wrists ... yeah, yeah the King is Coming ... he touched you ... you bowed on your knees.
Bob's calling David Bowie a Queer?
"It's David Bowie man," I say facing him.
He's in his whitey tidy underwear too though he's drug the blanket off his bed and is wearing it like a robe.
"You know Bob," I laugh, "you look pretty Queer right now."
"SHUT UP!" he yells.
"What you got against David Bowie?" I sigh sitting on sofa we recently confiscated outside the dorm we used to live in at Georgia Southern College.
"The Bible!" he screams righteously in his underwear.
"What's the Bible say about David Bowie?"
"I hate it when you do that Elliott!"
"What did I do?" I ask opening the fridge to see what we have to drink. "I had no idea David Bowie's in the Bible."
Bob does what he does whenever he doesn't know what to say ... huffs more air out of his nose ... before attacking me like Pagan Greco-Roman wrestler ... in his whitey tidies ... and we throw each other around the trailer ... shaking it further off it's slab.
Exhausted we sit in green shag carpet, catching out breath and laughing because somehow during our epic battle, the needle jumped back on the record and Bowie's singing again.
"It's not bad," Bob says.
"Told ya," I say shaking my head.
