Fable of a Personal Nature

Big Bruiser Dope Boy

I was an hour into the two-hour drive from the country to the city when he texted me

“Do you party?”

In contemporary gay parlance, that almost always meant meth

He texted some other questions

What did I drink?

What was my biggest turn-on?

“I don’t mess with Tina—sorry can’t text right now”



I had never

Though last year I had done a disturbing amount of cocaine, but was avoiding that now, for the most part

I was attracted to him and was not going to turn around

He lived in an old building downtown

I typed in a code and he buzzed me through the front, but a key fob was needed to use the lobby elevators, which had gilded doors

I took the stairs and texted him from his floor’s landing, where there was another secure door

“Hey be there in a sec—just got out of the shower”

After a few minutes, he opened the door

He was sweating a lot

He seemed cheery, if nervous

He guided me to his apartment

“Wow, nice place”

“Sorry—it’s kind of a mess right now”

“It’s fine—it’s not that bad”

There was a fair amount of clutter

He offered me a beer

“Thanks—dude you’re sweating a shit-ton”

His hair was heavy with it—forehead, cheeks, and nose covered in tiny beads

“Yeah, I sweat a lot—I’m also just really nervous meeting you, I don’t know why—you’re really cute”

“You too”

We made out

His bed was vast and bare and there was a big TV on the dresser turned toward it with a gangbang porn playing

We sat on his bed and made out some more

I noticed a small monitor on his bedside

It appeared to be a live video of the other room of his apartment—the kitchen and the hallway to the front door—the one we had been in moments ago, directly outside his bedroom

“Is that . . . do you have a surveillance camera?”

“Oh yeah, I got that for free from this company I worked with at my job”

“Oh, cool”

“Plus, I’ve had guys over who’ve tried to steal from me”

“Oh shit”

“Yeah . . .”

We made out some more

“Hey . . . so you asked me if I partied”

“Oh yeah . . . sorry if that put you off”

“It’s okay—were you asking me because you party?”

“Yeah, sometimes”

“Okay . . . what about now—are you partying right now?”

“. . . Yeah . . .”

“Okay . . . so how did you . . . did you smoke it?”

“No, I put it up my butt”

“Oh, okay . . . huh . . . what does that do for you?”

“It just makes me really horny and it makes everything down there feel amazing”

“Does it dissolve?”

“Yeah . . . it takes like fifteen minutes”

“Is it all dissolved now?”


We had sex

“I’ve never done it before, but I kind of want to try it”


“Yeah—but not putting it up my butt—do you have a way to smoke it?”

“Yeah . . . is it weird that it really turns me on that you’ve never done it before?”

“No—I mean, I can see how that’s exciting . . . wanna set me up?”

He pulled a water pipe/bubbler from a drawer in the corner

“Nice rig”


“That’s the same thing as a rig—you do dabs out of them, weed”


He dropped a crystal into the small hole at the top of the glass globe and handed me the rig

He lit the torch and held it beneath the globe

Smoke began to fill it

He gestured


I exhaled

“Oh wow, this is . . . wow”

He hit it and put the rig back in the drawer

“Wow . . . this is . . I can see how this is so popular”

I was at once at home in the speed

Its high was pure and clear

He tapped a few crystals out of the bag onto his belly, plucked one up with his fingers and put it up his ass

He put the extra back in the bag, but there was still some finer residue on his belly

“What do you want me to do with that powder?”



“My neighbors can hear me—the walls are thin”

“Is that why you have that sound-proofing?”

“Yeah, they’ve complained to me through the wall before”

“Oh . . .”

Whispering, he instructed me to lick my finger, pick up the meth dust with it, and put that inside him

He injected lube up his ass with a syringe to help with the dissolution

We hissed our words and waited

I looked at the gangbang porn playing and it occurred to me that most of the guys seemed to be high on meth

“You know who I always thought Adam Russo looks like?”


“Shel Silverstein”

“Oh yeah, he kind of does, that’s funny—he’s actually been over here before”

“Adam Russo, in your apartment?”


“Damn, wow, how was that?

“He’s really cool—you’re super easy to talk to”

“You too”

I started eating him out uninhibitedly

I tasted something extremely bitter

I realized I was licking meth around his asshole that never made it in and dissolved

It was getting me higher

I was crazed and animalistic, groping and slopping on his body parts

My life was miserably out of control

I loved it

We had sex for a few hours, getting high periodically

At one point, I was having trouble getting hard again, so I took two Viagra that he gave me

There were points when my heart was beating so hard I had to take a break

On our backs, chilled with sweat, talking

He sat a bit more upright and held still

“What’s up?”

“I thought I heard someone at the door”

“Oh . . .”

I looked at the monitor on his bedside

Grainy footage of the other room of his apartment, the hallway, the door

We put clothes on and went downstairs and outside his building so I could have a cigarette

“Why are you living way out there in the country?”

I told him

“I’m sorry, that’s awful—my mom is actually showing symptoms, too—my sister and I want her to go to the doctor”

“It can be hard to bring up or get anybody to do anything about it at first, including yourself”

He ordered a pizza

We talked more and I had another cigarette while we waited for it to arrive

I could not finish a slice, but managed to drink a glass of milk

I told him I was going to leave

“I thought you wanted to spend the night”

“Yeah I know, but I can’t sleep”

Driving back, I caught a glimpse of my face in the rearview

My eyes were big and glassy

My cheeks were flushed

My skin felt tight and weirdly rough

Just outside of town, right before dawn, it got hard to see

I tried to blink, but could not anymore

I was barely able to pull over and had no choice but to leave the car running before slithering into the cold, wet grass
Big Bruiser Dope Boy is the author of Foghorn Leghorn, Your First Real Boyfriend & Other Poems, and After Denver. A publisher is being sought for his next book, Something Gross. He started and runs gaydeathtrance.net.