Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank

Ugly Boys

<  Kalediobrandscope

by Kyle Hemmings    How to Put the Mad in Men  >


The Ugly Boys don’t do wrestle mania or drink powered milk by the bulk. Some pee-wee nit wit will always point the finger & say You can’t anyway. They sit in front of Wal-Marts & watch the girls so body-toned perfect in their sadness that comes in single-colored stripes. Sometimes they’ll reach a hand into the panty. It is returned with razor slashes, pretty drips of blood & a note that says Males Are Snails. And dude, I Already Got Ringworm.

The Ugly Boys jerk at the job, rub the sweat off pie plates, become the steam, the conveyor belt that endlessly returns them to minimal wage, the zombie fix. They dream of going gaga with the blonde waitress who only dates terrorists in remission, or the big-boob Betty who stuffs her breasts in Styrofoam cups to get a thrill. They overdose on empty whipped cream cans. The Ugly Boys compare life to a cheese doodle & a mutt named Zit. They have mothers who live & die behind TV eyes.

Or they take black & white photos in subway stations, in public bathrooms, three floors below anything, ones that capture the cries, the uber-ooofs, the huffs & the hisses, of strangers without faces having sex.

It was all done before. Nobody missed their train.

They suck/slurp through straws, trying to get a hit of strawberry soda that fizzes through their nostrils, that bubbles against their overdue tonsils, that reminds them of beach party sunsets that never included them. Or they skateboard with goofy foot leading, down impossible rails & slopes, back-flipping or McTwisting, until every major skull bone is shattered, until their lives are held together by pins & bolts & awkward MTV interviews.

& they lie in bed at night, like some acne-scarred kid crucified to the hard mattress & think: if only I could be pretty & long & hard as The Rock. If only I weren’t an Ugly Boy. If only someone could love me for what I am not.

They know that would be called cheating. That would be called Harry Potter or some magic wand bullshit.

The Ugly Boys close their eyes at night & never grow old until it’s too late.

I know. I was once an Ugly Boy.


published 19 December 2012