Chevy Chase, by James R Silvestri

Chevy Chase is the butthole of America. I’m not talking about the old guy that fell down the stairs on that old show. I’m talking the town, in Maryland. Actually, Maryland is the butthole of America. Chevy Chase is the zit inside America’s butthole. The kind that hurts when you take a shit.

I’m jerking off now, 'cause the Neighbor Kid’s mowing the lawn across the street with his shirt off. He’s not as skinny as me, but he’s cut like a knife and the hair in his pits drip sweat and probably smells like pumpkin pie. I try to do it quiet with a pillow over my face, but it gets hard to breathe and then I have to stop and pull it off and get back into it. It sometimes takes me a long time to finish, 'cause everything distracts me. I’m playing Muse really loud on my iPod speaker so that my parents don’t hear me say the shit that I don’t wanna say while I’m cranking it. Don’t laugh at me, I’m a kid. And it sucks to be me, I think.

My mom is ordering tacky shit on QVC. This lady on the other end of the phone is named Bonnie and she knows my Mom by name, 'cause my mom is the dumb bitch that calls them every day to order more of their tacky, useless shit that just sits in boxes in the basement for months. Mom’s telling Bonnie about how big I’m getting and Bonnie’s probably all like, “They grow up so fast, don’t they, Linda?” 'cause it’s all about keeping retards like my mom on the phone for as long as they can so that they let their guard down and buy more tacky, useless crap.

My Dad left for work without saying bye. He moves real quiet like a cat because he doesn’t like to be noticed. Especially when he’s on his way out.

They pretend that I’m something that I’m not to get them through the day. Or maybe they’re not pretending, maybe they’re just that dumb. Or maybe they don’t give a shit. Boo-hoo, see, I told you it sucks to be me.

At school Marc who spells his name with a “c” because he’s a closet homo likes to whip out his dick at lunch or in class before the teacher walks in and put it in guys’ faces and ask them if they like it. He does this to the shy, quiet kids and the social losers and this one totally fucked-up slow-burner Sammy who’s gonna Columbine us all one day. And all his idiot friends laugh and laugh because they’re straight and they don’t have a clue. There’s no girls in the school 'cause it’s Catholic and everybody acts like they’re in lock-up and refuse to admit that things like that are totally gay. If there were girls, the guys would just be raping them instead of sticking their dicks in other guys’ faces and asking them if they liked it. Except for Marc, he’d still be doing that.

He did that to me once, at art class. He whipped it out and shook it in my face like a baby’s rattle and asked if I liked that. His idiot parade laughed and laughed like it was the first time he did it and not the millionth. They’ve seen more of his dick than their own, we all have I think. He still had a foreskin, so it looked like a bratwurst. I like art class, and he was pissing me off, and I wanted to shake him up, so I gave it a lick and everybody screamed like I was a zombie trying to eat it. When Mrs. Grimaldi the art teacher walked in Marc ran up to her and told her I mouth-raped him. She broke a lot of laws by rolling her eyes and telling him to sit down and be quiet.

When we got out that day he tried to pick a fight with me down the street with his dumbass posse in a circle around us and called me a faggot. But he doesn’t know how to fight so all he did was push me like we were girls and I read her diary or some shit. I can’t really fight the real way either 'cause I’m a faggot too so I fought dirty and kicked his dick hard with my big fat boot. He fell down and started crying and gagging and his idiots backed off and I went home. He doesn’t put it in my face anymore.

I meet up with Billy at a motel 'cause it’s Sunday. Billy’s older than my grandpa and he looks it and I gotta admit sometimes he smells it too. I think he knows that 'cause he usually wears lots of cologne. He always makes sad comments that he’s so old and I always tell him that he’s wrong 'cause he’s real sensitive about his age. He’s real sensitive about lots of stuff. He sometimes gets all quiet and then his eyes look like my dad’s sometimes do when they’re watching my mom on the phone with Bonnie at QVC. Billy likes to warn me that the world’s a sad, stupid place and I act like he’s telling me something I don’t already know because it makes him happy when he’s teaching me stuff. He has a son and daughter and a wife that are always around him but they don’t get him 'cause he can’t be honest with them. And his whole life is a lie. I made up that last part, he never said that, but it’s true.

Billy always comes in disguise and uses fake names. He’s got no imagination when it comes to the fake names and he’s usually John Smith or Fred Johnson. One time he was Tom Jones and he didn’t get the joke. I bet you’re surprised I do 'cause I’m young, but I know this shit.

He likes to use his hands to worship me all over like I’m one of those golden cow statues the people in the Bible worship even though God and Moses tell them not to. That’s mostly what we do on Sundays in the motels. Lots of times when he tries to do something more he gets all shaky and starts to cry, and I rub his head and tell him it’s all right. I hate it when he cries and I try to be nice.

Three times he got over it and fucked me. Hard. His nipples are huge soup cans and I like the way they feel when they press into my shoulder blades. He’s old but he’s got lots of energy. I can barely walk after that and that’s how I like it. I wish he’d do it more instead of just crying like he usually does.

I show him my drawings and he tells me I got real talent. I ask if I could sketch him and he says no way, no way. That’s evidence. I don’t know why he thinks he’s got anything to worry about because whenever I try to draw from life it always looks like total garbage 'cause Mrs. Grimaldi doesn’t teach us how to do that. I’m better off with my shitty little cartoons of bats and ninjas et cetera.

Billy tells me to have patience with my folks 'cause they’ll come around. He’s not from Chevy Chase so he doesn’t know. He says I should be more honest with them and I don’t call him on that because it would bum him out all over again.

We met online last month and hit it off. I didn’t care that he was old and he said he didn’t care that I wasn’t because I had an old soul. That was corny but it kinda made me smile because deep down I think that’s true and I’m glad he sees that.

Sometimes I think about going up to the Neighbor Kid when he’s mowing the lawn and pulling it out and asking him if he likes it, just like Marc with a “c” would do.

I think about sex all the time because I’m a pervert.

My friend Diane calls me Kevin Brock, Sucker of Cock. I call her Bitch but I love her. We hang out by her pool and she takes off her bathing suit and asks me if her pussy looks funny. Lots of people are hung up on their privates in Chevy Chase. I tell her it looks pretty even though I don’t know much about pussies. I hate it when faggots online gag over pussy, it’s so disrespectful 'cause we all dropped out of one at some point, everyone except test tube babies but wait I’m losing train of thought again. Dicks are kind of ugly when you think about it. At least a pussy is just a hole.

Diane’s boyfriend Chris is ugly and mean and a fucking retard and I used to tell her that all the time but I don’t tell her anymore because it pisses her off. He’s a senior at my school and on Tuesdays in the cafeteria he always gets an extra helping of sweet potatoes which taste like medicine. He writes movie reviews for the school paper and he’s been the student government treasurer for all four years and I heard once that he secretly got married and divorced last year but Diane says that’s bullshit. Whatever, he’s a douche.

We go to Hot Topic at the mall on Fridays and we totally make fun of it because it’s gay and we both know it, but that’s where I got my boots so I guess they get the last laugh. Don’t judge me.

Before Billy I used to meet guys online all the time and I don’t do it so much anymore 'cause Billy’s my online guy now. I did it for money once. The guy was nice but mad creepy and he mumbled a lot even when he was inside me, and he smelled like leather and gave me some poppers. I couldn’t keep it a secret from Diane and she warned me that if I kept putting out for money I might become a coked-up whore and that my asshole would get all loose and flop out of my crack like a hanging hand puppet and I wouldn’t realize it because I’d be too high on coke. I got pissed and told her to fuck off, but I never did it for money again. I do it for free now and I don’t see how that’s better.

I try not to act like a girl but everybody knows I play pink 'cause there’s only so much I can hide if that’s what I was trying to do. I don’t mind being called a faggot usually but don’t say I act like a girl 'cause I don’t. I like things that are pretty and I appreciate the way pretty things are made and that’s that. I usually dress in black but sometimes I wear magenta or hot pink just to piss people off and it usually works. I stick out in school and people try to start shit with me all the time and sometimes it gets tiring but I still say Bring It. If you gotta problem with me Bring It. I’ll handle you.

I got a piercing in my pisshole. Some bony tattoo guy at the shop gave it to me after hours but I had to put out first, then I had to wait for my dick to get soft again before he inserted it and that took awhile. I won’t lie it hurt like hell but now it increases the stimulation during fucking and guys like to tongue it. I never told anyone this but at the movie theater after some shit date movie I saw with Diane and her uggo bf Chris where I was the third wheel and Chris kept checking to see if I was watching when he was making out with Diane, after it was over I went to take a piss and Chris followed me. He made lame jokes about the movie and I tried to be polite but then he said Diane told him about my dick ring and he had a million questions about it. I don’t know why Diane was telling him about my dick but whatever. I got annoyed so I finally whipped it out to show him 'cause that’s obviously what he really wanted. It’s, what do you call it, a conversation piece, I mean that’s why I got it right? Then he started poking it and making observations like it was hanging in a museum or some shit. I didn’t want to get hard 'cause he’s an ugly douchebag but his hand was on it and it thinks for itself sometimes, most of the time. I don’t wanna say what happened next so I won’t but I don’t have to 'cause you’ve been listening to me now for awhile and you know what I’m like. And I never told Diane 'cause she would hate me and I can’t lose her as a friend because no one else talks to me. I see her everyday and pretend it never happened. I have to see Chris sometimes too and he tries to be alone in the room with me all the time but I won’t let that happen again. Diane is all about him and she’d pick him over me mostly because I’m a lying slut and a pervert. I lie awake at night worrying about this sometimes. I hate myself but it’s hard living here and I wanna get the fuck out of Chevy Motherfucking Chase.

I lied when I said I never told anyone that because I told Billy once but he just laughed and told me boys will be boys and when I got older I’d see it wasn’t such a big deal. I think when I get older I’ll be a sad tired faggot who has no one to love because I spent all my time fucking everyone’s boyfriends. Also Billy said the story turned him on so I never told it again because it’s not the sort of thing that’s supposed to turn you on, it’s sick and sad.

My dad is drunk on the armchair, which is weird because it’s a Wednesday. He drinks more now and I think we’re probably broke because of Mom’s QVC problem and that’s why he drinks. He could just tell her to fucking stop but he’s so weak. I’d say I hate him but I feel bad for him.

He tells me to sit on the couch so I do. I pop open one of his warm piss beers and start to gulp it down and he doesn’t stop me. Warm beer sometimes tastes like semen but don’t tell the straights. He looks at me for a long time like he’s trying to figure me out and I guess he fails at that. He asks me how school is and I just say it’s fine 'cause really neither of us gives a shit. Then he tells me to never get married because women are the devil and will suck me dry. I say men are the devil too and they can suck me dry too. He laughs like this surprises him, he laughs like a lunatic and I want to leave. Then all of the sudden he starts to cry and I never saw him do that before and I want to leave even more.

Billy is on TV a lot now because it’s election season. He wears sharp designer suits and crazy ties but I fucking hate that thing he does to his hair when he’s in public. He told me once that things in Washington are different now and voters have changed, they’re a lot more crazy and angry and he has mixed feelings about that. He says he’s afraid of them but they worship him and in his whole life he’d never been worshipped like he is now.

He’s speaking on TV now at a podium in some public park in Arlington and there’s a mob of people there with poster board signs that say stupid rhyming shit. They all hate the President and most of the government but they love Billy because he tells them what they want to hear. There’s lots of dysfunctional mouth breathers in Virginia but for the record they got nothing on Chevy Chase. Anyway he goes on about how government has failed us and how he’s going to change everything but I notice he doesn’t say how, and the people just cheer because they don’t know how to change things either. Billy never talks about his job so I don’t know if he knows how to change things. I think if anyone knew how to change things they’d be President by now.

Now Billy is going on about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and how he wants to repeal the decision to repeal it. This has to do with gays in the military and I don’t fucking know why any homo would want to join the military except for the shower sex like in pornos. I shouldn’t say that because I guess they’re brave people that want to fight for the country, but really all homos have to be brave because the country hates us and I don’t see the point in any of this. Anyway Billy doesn’t want homos in the military and neither do any of his fans. But then he goes on about gay marriage and how this was an abomination, that’s the word he is using, and the people go more crazy for him. Then he gets really into it because he’s getting a response, and he changes before my eyes and I think he might be a demon or a vampire. Basically all homos should just save everyone the trouble and die according to Billy, which means he should die too I guess, and I think he knows that and is okay with it because he hates himself more than I hate myself.

I know I say I’m not like a girl but I’m crying now and I don’t know why. Girls cry for no reason and here I am doing that. I’m so lame.

Sometimes when I fuck or jerk off I feel like I’m floating up out of my body and looking down at what I’m doing. I’m not really thinking anything I’m just watching, like I’m trying to figure something out. Who’s that kid? What’s he thinking? Why’d he get that pierced? I know it’s weird. Even weirder, I sometimes do that, leave my body and float up and look down, when there’s no sex or jizz involved at all. Like, when I watch my mom make small talk with the UPS guy, or when Diane is going on and on about some dumb bitch who is jealous of her, or when I listen to Billy’s long, long voicemails where he rambles and whimpers and pleads and preaches. I just float and watch and try to listen. I think maybe it has something to do with how slow time moves here. Billy used to say the opposite, time is fast, it passes you by. But it seems to be moving slower and slower if you ask me. I think if I’m not careful it’ll just completely stop on me.

I’ve decided that I’m going to work in Hot Topic this summer and sell their silly shit to emo faggots like me. I’ll be good at it because I’ll suck it up and sell that shit like I’m Bonnie at QVC or Billy at the podium. No one will ever know how I really feel about the shit I’m selling and that’s fine.

And when I earn enough money I’m buying a bus ticket that’s just the right price to take me two hundred miles in any direction away from Chevy Chase. Even if I wind up in the ocean.