Jesus, just get your butt down here already!

From Chapter One, Page 2:


It was an endless interstate that ran for miles and miles to places I had never been. Places I had only heard about. Places that were forbidden. Places that seemed impossible.

My parents were perfectly content in this town – it was a big metropolis compared to the towns they grew up in. And moving somewhere else was pointless, because Jesus was coming back any day. My mother said to be ready. I shared her excitement of his return. I wanted him to come back. I wanted him to destroy everything and take me away from all of this. Anything was better.

But Jesus hadn’t come back yet…and it was really pissing me off!

Time to wake up and whack out!

From Prologue, Page 8


My name is Joey Miller, and I am going to tell you the story of a DJ named Todd…and the boy who fell hopelessly in love with him for the rest of his life. Everyone says he is dead, but maybe…just maybe…he’s still out there. Will I find him? And if I do…will he want to be found? Especially by me?

To find out the answer, I have to go back to where it all started….to Kansas…to youth…to the summer of my eighteenth year…to the morning I was finally released from an eternal prison…when nothing and everything started to make sense.

Wake up Sleeping Beauty…this coma is doing nothing for your figure.

A little boy named "Someday"

From Prologue, Page 4


I admitted defeat: “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, man…” Now a tear started. A little one. And the only person I had to share my grief with was this poor woman I used to copy my Algebra homework from…a woman who had no idea I idolized her brother to almost Grecian myth proportions.

“Joseph, you okay?”

“I always thought I would run into him again. Someday.”

Someday. A date on everyone’s appointment calendar…where a million hopes and dreams are made…and then rescheduled. “Someday” was a timid little boy often bullied into submission by his two older cousins: Despair and Death.

The Straight-Acting School for Gays

From the Prologue, Page 2:

I smiled with pride at Shelly’s positive assessment of me. Although it took some time, I was a proud alumni of the Straight-Acting School for Gays. (Their alma matar: “If you’re too gay, no one hot will **** you..”) Although I didn’t graduate Magna Cum Laude, I did walk away with a strong B+ average. I had gained points for driving a Mustang and putting on some muscle, but failed the final exam when it was discovered that I still fell into screaming fits of orgasmic joy whenever I watched Gina Gershon and Elizabeth Berkely duke it out in the movie “Showgirls.” (As anyone who goes to online chat rooms knows, gay men are strictly macho, sports-loving lumberjacks who wrestle sharks for breakfast and just want to kick it with their bros in bed before going on camping trips with all the straight guys in their stock investment club.)

Special thank you to Michael Troy for helping me with that last line during a night in West Hollywood when we were watching all the "straight-acting" gay men (at least online) at a bar swish and swash with a demeanor that would make Jm J Bullock blush.

The novel of 349 pages begins with a single line...

When DJs and dancing boys go away...it is the Disco Graveyard where they will always play.